Page 46 of Sugar Coated Lies
I consider this before answering. “I learned to stop questioning why things happen a long time ago and started accepting life as it is, without expecting much. It makes it easier to let things go.”
One of my shoes slips from my grasp.
Daire plucks it from the grass and passes it to me.
“Come on, Tipsy.” He puts his hand on my back to steady me, I’m sure. “It’s not much farther, but don’t stop talking. I like hearing about you.”
We walk on, my arm constantly brushing his side, but I’m too buzzed to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind. As for being talkative, only two things make me this way. Nervousness and alcohol.
“I don’t know what else to say.” I tilt my head back. He’s much taller when he’s close to me.
“Got any friends?”
I snort-laugh. “Yes. I have friends. Do you?”
His posture stiffens a little.
“My friends are boring. Tell me about yours. They must be special.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you don’t seem like the kind of girl who lets people in easily. But I can tell from your family life that you’re loyal, which would make a friend, particularly a longtime friend, special. Worthy.”
Oh God. This man knows me better than I realized, and it draws emotions to the forefront. A mushy gushiness of sweet pastry dough toward him for seeing the real me and sounding appreciative of who I am. And a fear of him knowing the real me because that could lead to complications, which can lead to loss and heartache—two emotions I try to avoid by not caring too much.
“Everleigh?” Daire squeezes my waist.
It’s then I notice his hand is at my hip rather than my back. “Yes?”
We’ve stopped walking again.
“You were going to tell me about your special friends.” He holds my gaze.
It’s hard not to get drawn in by those lips. I shake my head, as if to clear the alcohol-induced fog, and let the liquor speak for me. “There’s one. Sadie. I’ve known her my whole life. We’ve been friends through it all. She’s funny.” We start walking again, the grass here softer beneath my feet. “She’s obsessed with watching crime and murder and thinks everyone is a serial killer. She thought you were one.” I snort. I should really stop that.
“Me?”
“She’s just paranoid.”
“Does she think that of all the guys you date?”
“Yep.” I nod and my upper body sways with the movement.
Daire clutches my waist tighter. “Who in your past did she peg for a serial killer? There has to have been one guy who stood out over the rest?”
My thoughts rewind to Benedict. “There was one, but he got a pass from her after a while. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, too.” I hiccup. Am I sweating? “Guys can be charming assholes, you know? Charming at first. An asshole later.”
“I know a few guys like that. He must have been really charming for you to have opened up to him.”
“Opened up? No. I was smart enough not to do that. But I did let my guard down. He was flashy, had a yacht and mega-money. I’ve met rich guys before—you’re a rich guy, but you’re not like him. He was much more arrogant, but he played it off as a joke and we would all laugh, and that was that. Sadie seemed to approve of him, so I stopped questioning his motives and personality and just had fun. Itwasfun until it wasn’t anymore. I wish I could have dodged that moment.” I shiver at the memory.
Daire stops us and gazes down into my eyes, his jaw muscles ticking under the silver moonlight. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not physically, but I imagine it could have gotten to that point had I not…”tricked him into believing I was into his game. Shame keeps me from speaking the last part out loud. I lower my gaze to the buttons on his shirt. “Let’s just say it was a Christian-Grey-red-room-moment in the making, only this guy didn’t seem like he would have cared about safe words or what happened to me during the act. I escaped.”
“Escaped?”
I nod and touch one of the buttons on his shirt, my mind focused on the memory rather than my current action. “He locked me on his yacht against my wishes, but I was able to get away. He was pissed. He still is,” I add in a whisper.
