Page 22 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

“So, he used your vulnerabilities against you and made you feel wanted?”

Isla nods, and I watch as a tear slips out of the corner of her closed eye.No.

“His wife found out. She went ballistic. Threatened us both. After things calmed down, she made me promise I wouldn’t tell the social worker because she’d never be able to foster another child, and I couldn’t take that away from her after everything. The whole reason they became foster parents was because she can’t have children.” Isla inhaled deeply. “She told me she’d never allow another girl in their house, given her husband’s behavior.” I stare down at Isla’s trembling lip. If I could have choked on my own tongue, I would have. “Now my brother is their newest foster kid, so I guess she stayed true to her word.”

“And he did it on purpose, didn't he? To hang Thomas over your head to manipulate you more? He’s using Thomas to get you to be in his life again?”

She shrugs timidly. “I was the one that reached out to him when I found out.”

She thinks just becauseshecontacted him that this isherdoing? I know a manipulator when I see one. He’s probably using Thomas as a reward for letting him fuck her.

I immediately pull away from Isla, and she quickly sits up and stands on shaky legs. She rushes for the door, and even though I swore I’d leave her be to deal with shit on her own, out of nowhere, I reach for her and wrap my palm around her waist. Her back is pressed to my front, and she tenses.

“Wh–what are you doing?” Her question is rushed with panic.

“Stay.”

She peers back at me. The small worry lines around her eyes grow deeper when I raise my eyebrows at her. “I may be an asshole, but I won’t use your vulnerabilities against you like that piece of shit. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Her face softens, and I can’t help but think how flawless she is.

I drop my arms and step away from her. I edge my chin toward the bed. “You can have it.”

Isla slowly tiptoes past me and sits on the edge without ever taking her eyes off me. I take a knee and slip off her sandals. Chills race up her legs with my gentle touch, and I can say with full certainty that I have never treated someone with such delicacy before.

“I was right,” she whispers.

There’s a heavy pressure in my chest, and I don’t know what to do with it. I’m fumbling on the inside, and I hope she doesn’t notice how out of sorts I am.

“What were you right about?” I ask.

Before she answers me, she lies on my bed and turns to her side to curl into a ball. “I was right to feel safe with you.”

“I’m not sure how you can say that after everything.”

I fucking held her mouth shut while her father was murdered.Sure, I protectedher, but how does one come back from that?

Isla shrugs before closing her eyes. “You’re good, Brantley. You have been from the start.”

My throat closes with emotion, and the longer I stare at her in my bed, the more I realize that I want to believe her assumptions more than anything.

THIRTEEN

Isla

Wake up, Isla.

I’ve been telling myself the same thing for years. I can feel myself drifting in and out of sleep and teetering between a dream and a nightmare. Thomas’s sweet little hands curled around his teddy bear send warmth throughout, but then it’s replaced with a chill and a feeling of hands on me that make me feel guilty, used, and a little dirty.

My eyes open, and I focus on the ceiling above. I inhale deeply before letting the air out, moving my long hair away from my face. I immediately turn to the right and see Brantley’s perfect profile. There’s a skip in my chest, and I turn away before he wakes to find me staring. I remember everything from last night, and it has left me feeling no less than naked.

Secrets are meant to be kept, and lies are meant to be told. It’s a skill I’ve honed since my father’s death, but last night, I told the truth for the first time in averylong time, and it left me raw.

Brantley didn’t react like I thought he would, and when I felt the bed dip later on during the night, I reached out and grabbed on to him in a half daze.

Skimming my gaze down past my bunched-up dress, I snarl at the hickey on my inner thigh. Shame fills me, and embarrassment lingers closely behind. I pull my dress down hastily and furrow my brows. Brantley doesn’t stir when I climb over him. I force myself to take my gaze away from his angled jaw and straight nose. He is peaceful when he’s sleeping. No scowl, no darkened gaze as he tries to figure me out. Justcalm.

I shut his bathroom door quietly and strip out of my dress. Brantley’s shower is smaller than mine, but I can’t wait another second to wash Zachary’s hands from my body. I wait until the bathroom is steamy before stepping onto the wet tiles. The water scalds my skin, and I flinch, but I don't move to turn the temperature down. I scrub the parts of my body that I know are his favorite and try to wash away the fresh memory of his touches.

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