Page 99 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

“I love the rain, remember?” I said, taking a glance at him.

He stilled at first but said nothing. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just focused on the road.

“I’m fine, I promise. I was only in the rain for two minutes,” I mumbled and looked outside the window.

“Take one of the cars or at least let one of the drivers pick you up. I’m fucking worried about your safety,” he said, sounding calmer now.

I didn’t say anything but kept looking outside the window, watching the drops of rain roll down the glass like it was artwork.

The rest of the ride was silent, classic music played on the radio, and it made me crave my bed. I felt another wave of anger as I recalled everything Ciara had said.

Did she find pleasure in hurting me? How long had she held such resentment toward me?

I’d always known she was the better child—excelling in school, being team captain in varsity sports, and winning numerous medals while I ruined my life. My parents were too busy worrying about me to notice how Ciara was trying to impress them. I understood her anger, but seriously? She’d stood there while my parents kicked me out for something she had done, and she’d had the guts to try to justify her actions.

God, I hated her. I wanted to ram my fist through her face so hard that she’d get decapitated.

I stepped out of the car as soon as Tristan parked it in the garage. I hung his jacket on the rack in the foyer and took off my Air Force shoes. The house was silent as I rushed upstairs to my room. I needed to shower and change into something dry before seeing the twins. There was a knock on the door as I undid the third button on my dress.

“Come in,” I said in a quiet tone.

“You left your bag in the car,” Tristan said in the doorway.

“Just drop it on the floor, thanks,” I said, undoing the fifth button.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” My answer came out a bit aggressive, and the way my fingers worked to undo my buttons with a force accompanied by anger didn’t help.

I waited for Tristan to leave, but he remained standing there.

“What’s wrong Chloe?” he asked again.

I turned around, feeling annoyed at the question. I didn’t care that my buttons were undone and he could see my bra. We’d showered together in Cuba. It was not a big deal.

“Nothing. You can leave.”

“You’re crying,” he said, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

“I’m fine, seriously,” I said with a smile, but tears kept streaming down my cheeks.

Before I could convince him again, he was in front of me, pulling me into his arms. I fought it. I stopped myself from accepting his comfort. I stood still and refused to give in to the comfort of his touch. He was big and tall, engulfing me like a bear.

“Please don’t fight me,” he whispered, stroking the back of my neck.

I let go and gave in. My hands gripped the cotton fabric of his shirt, and I cried, burying my face in his chest. He pressed me against him, one arm around my lower back and his large palm cupping the back of my head while his thumb stroked my scalp. I let myself cry. I sank into the warmth of his arms and melted into his touch.

“I hate her,” I choked out, increasing my grasp on his shirt that I was scared I’d rip it apart.

“It’s okay,” Tristan whispered.

I didn’t know how long we stood there, me crying and him comforting me. By the time the tears stopped, I had wet his clothes from my tears, my rain-soaked dress, and maybe some mucus from my runny nose. His T-shirt had slackened from my intense grip, and my head was starting to ache.

Neither of us stepped back when we pulled away from the hug. Tristan cupped my face and brushed the leftover tears away with his thumbs. My puffy eyes looked up at his face. His facial features hardened, then relaxed when they met my eyes.

“Sorry for ruining your shirt.” I laughed and tried smoothing the rumple I’d created.

“It’s fine.” He smiled, not taking his eyes off my face.

---