Page 21 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

Her eyes are glassy when she turns back to me. “You told me that if I want to live, I’ll learn to lie. Now you’re wanting the truth?”

I hate that night. “This is different.” Her glossy gaze bounces back and forth between mine, and it pulls the truth right out of me. “I told you to lie so you’d stay alive. I wanted you to harden up so you’d have a fucking chance at life.” I swallow the rest of that night and move on to the present. “I know why you were crying that night, and I want to know why you’re crying right now.”

Isla’s lips purse as another tear slips down her cheek. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t know.” My thumb swipes away another bead of moisture before I grip her quivering chin. “But I do, so either I search that license plate and find out where that man lives so I can burn down his house, or you can tell me why he has you so upset.” I try to pretend I’m not jealous, but I fucking am. “Who is he?”

Isla’s throat bounces with a soft swallow, and when she looks into my eyes, I swear to God she’s looking into my soul. The softlines around her lips wrinkle with refusal, but she surprises me with the truth. “He’s my old foster father.”

My heartbeat is in my ears.

“Zachary Welton.” It’s not a question.

She pulls away, but I drag her in closer. “How do you kn–”

“Why is he showing up here?”

Isla tenses, and a million and one scenarios run through my head. I quickly turn around while keeping a hold of her wrist and pull her toward the school. Once we’re inside, we stay silent until we’re in my room with the door locked. “What does he have hanging over your head, Isla?”

I know the answer already because it’s not hard to put two and two together.

“He either knows where your brother is…” I lean back on my door and pull the hood of my jacket up on my head to seem casual, although I’m anything but.“Or…hehasyour brother.”

A soft gasp leaves her.Bingo.

Now that we’re in my room with more than just the moon as our light, I run my eyes down her body. Thick blonde waves lay over the straps of her summer dress that hits mid-thigh. She looks edible. Pretty but sexy at the same time. I stare at the little space between her legs, remembering what’s underneath the fabric, but freeze when I see a mark on her skin. My blood runs cold, and the temperature drops the closer I get to her. The backs of her thighs stay pressed against my bed, but the moment I push her hair behind her shoulder, she tries to escape. My hand snaps out, and I grip her neck lightly, turning her head to stare at the hickey on her skin.

“So, he is your boyfriend?”Fuck.

“No!” she shouts, slapping my hand away to scramble out of my grip. I push her down on my bed and trap her there.

“Then explain the mark on your neck, Ice Princess.” Shoving her legs apart to show off her panties, I press my thumb onto the other hickey on her thigh. “And the one right here.”

Isla quickly gives up. She flops back onto my bed, and I hate that I’m happy she’s making my sheets smell like her, especially after she’s been touched by another man.

Her hands cover her face. “It’s nothing.” Her lie is muffled, and it pisses me off.

“Pretty girls never lie,” I remind her. “So stopfuckinglying.”

She slowly slides her hands down her tear-streaked face, looking truly vulnerable for the first time since I left her in that closet. I take away the bite of anger in my tone and ask her something I’m not sure I want the answer to. “Did you want him to touch you?”

I let up on her a little, but she’s still trapped on top of my bed. Her legs close when I remove my hand from her thigh. I stare at the side of her face when she turns away. “No.”

No?My entire body runs hot.

“But it’s not what you’re thinking.”

I remain quiet because I’m not sure what’s going to come out of my mouth. The truth is, I don’t trust myself around Isla. If the Rebels were here, they’d be giving me so much shit for my behavior. I was always the one Rebel who swore off relationships and all that bullshit, but right now, I can’t seem to make sense of what I’m feeling. Anger? Protectiveness Both?

“Then what is it, Isla? Because what I see is a fucked-up man who is taking advantage of you, and I’ve gotta admit…I don’t fucking like it.”

Isla turns back to me, and those blue eyes shine with shock. She blinks, and it looks like she’s thinking unbelievable things about me, just like I’m thinking about her.

“We had a thing when I was his foster daughter…” She shuts her eyes, like she doesn’t want me to see her, and my heart beatsharder. “I…I didn’t realize how wrong it was. I was lonely and confused and had no one in my corner. They’d taken my brother away from me, and I was broken.”

He took advantage of her.

I’ve known bad men, much worse than Zachary, but it doesn’t make him any less bad in my eyes.

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