Page 152 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

the middle of the night, and then doesn’t drink it?

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands strolling from my sides to my

stomach, pinning my back against his chest. “You look upset, Leah.”

“No… No, I’m fine. I’m just… Why didn’t you drink any?”

“I didn’t feel the need to.”

I point to the bottle, picking up the cap as though to show him

something he already sees. “Okay, so what’s this?”

“It’s the cap,” he chuckles. “I took the cap off and brought the bottle

to my nose, but never once did that bottle touch my lips.”

I give him a worried look, unsure if he’s hiding something from me.

Is he really telling the truth, or not?

“Please, explain this to me, Percy. I’m not familiar with addiction to

this variety.”

He laughs to himself as if I asked him to pass me the morning paper

over the breakfast table. He turns me around in his arms, his hands

seeking my lower back where he pulls me in tighter, our chests stuck

together now.

“Are you lying to me?”

His lips lightly brush my cheek, slicing the tears right from my skin

and kissing them away. “No, darling. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m being

serious. I didn’t take a drink. If I did, the bottle would be gone by

now. I have some willpower left, but nothing would be capable of

stopping me after my first sip.”

I nod, resting my forehead against his muscular chest long enough to

feel his pulse level with mine. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good. I don’t want to hurt you, Leah. I just thought about drinking

some. The smell of the whiskey… It brings back so many memories. I

just—I wanted to relive a few things.”

I don’t know why, but hearing those words hurts me.

“Nothing good, trust me,” he adds in clarity. “It’s just some stuff I’ve

---