Twisted Truths: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2

by Azzi, Gina

  “What are you talking about?” Zoe asks, her eyes darting between me and her father.

  “We have our own good news,” I supply, opening the sparkling wine and pouring some for Zoe.

  I pop the cork on the champagne bottle and Joe’s face lights up. He smiles, gratefully accepting the glass I pour him. “And we’re celebrating.”

  “Celebrating what?” Zoe asks, her frustration flaring.

  “Always wants to be in the know, this one,” Joe chuckles, lifting his glass. “I have a new partner.”

  “A partner?” Zoe asks skeptically. “At Shooters or in life?”

  Joe chortles, swinging his flute in my direction, “Eli is buying me out.”

  “What?” Zoe gasps, her eyes doubling in size. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” Joe takes a long sip of his champagne. “You bought the good stuff, son.”

  I chuckle, glancing at Zoe. “I’m buying your dad out, but he’s still going to be involved.”

  “But who’s going to run it on the day-to-day?”

  Joe smacks his lips together. “That would be Charlie. We’re going to do a huge revamp.”

  “Really?” Zoe asks.

  “Really.” I clink my glass against hers.

  She takes a small sip of her sparkling wine, absorbing the news. “And Charlie wants to do this?”

  “Couldn’t be more excited about it. You know how much she loves interior design,” Joe supplies.

  “I do, but this is a big project and—”

  “Zo, my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

  Zoe snorts.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few months listening to Charlie. She needs a new challenge. That girl is talented, smart, and enthusiastic. She needs something to channel it into. When Eli and I talked about Shooters… well, a revamp is just what we need to get things going there and Charlie is just the girl to do it.”

  Zoe nods. “I agree Charlie is perfect to help with the revamp as well as managing the bar. I’m just…surprised. I thought you were considering closing Shooters down.”

  “We didn’t want to add anything else to your plate,” I explain, kissing her temple. “Besides, Shooters is an institution.”

  “It is?” Zoe asks.

  “For me it is. It’s where I met you, babe.”

  Zoe rolls her eyes.

  I lean forward, “It’s a win-win. This way, Shooters can remain open, with a fresh look and feel. Joe can keep working, and Charlie can utilize her interior design skills.”

  My best girl smiles, lifting her flute in the air, “To all the new changes.”

  “And new beginnings,” Joe adds, clinking our glasses and taking a long sip.

  “To Baby Girl Holt’s legacy.” I add, drinking up.

  Epilogue

  Zoe

  It’s strange how things sometimes fall apart in order to come together. Even better the second time around.

  When Eli and I ended our whatever-we-were-pretending-it-wasn’t, I felt devastated. Enough to know that it was so much more than I ever wanted to admit.

  The first night I met him, he seemed like the perfect candidate for casual and no-strings.

  But, man, did I call that wrong.

  Eli tangled me up so fast in all the strings, all the emotions, all the highs and lows, until he was literally the only man I could see myself with.

  No, not Eli Holt, the Hollywood heartthrob… sure, he’s a public figure with a larger-than-life personality. The energy in a room shifts just because he crosses the threshold. He’s funny and witty and smart. He’s beautiful and complicated and real.

  I fell for Eli Holt, my wounded warrior. The man shadowed with guilt and hurt and longing for things he should have done differently.

  For so many years, Eli’s past clouded his present and threatened to downpour on his future. Now, he radiates pure happiness, though I occasionally still note the worry that clings to his eyes.

  Sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking, he stares at me like he’s trying to memorize my face, the curve of my cheekbones, the shape of my eyes.

  On the outside, he’s affable and confident. But on the inside, he’s so much more—deep, curious, heartfelt—than the public knows.

  That man is the one I fell so undeniably in love with. Not the one plastered on magazine covers or dropping one-liners, shirtless, in a blockbuster movie.

  Nope. It’s the guy who absorbs the anguish of others and makes it his, inhales it down and digests it in the hope that you won’t have to. It’s the man who wants to know everything about my childhood, and my mom, so he could inject her presence into the home we’re creating. The man who makes cameos on my That Fit Bitch Mom Life videos and has become a fan favorite among viewers. In fact, he doesn’t even mind that my training demand has skyrocketed and I spend most of my evenings conversing with other pregnant women.

  That, or surrounded by tough fighters at Connor’s gym. Those fighters totally man-crush on him. The moment he steps up to the ring, reverence fills their eyes and they step back so I can have a moment with my guy.

  It’s not because he’s famous…at least, I don’t think so. I think it’s because he left the nondescript streets of our neighborhood behind to make it big, to pursue his dream. And now he’s back, happily telling everyone how much his dreams have changed because he’s going to be a daddy. How I’ve made him whole.

  That’s the man who owns me. Heart, body, and soul.

  Eli Holt is a hell of a lot of things. But I truly know now what he means when he says he’s mine.

  “How’re you feeling today?” he asks, bleary-eyed, stepping into our master bathroom and meeting my gaze in the mirror.

  I place my toothbrush in the cup holder and spin to kiss him good morning. “Really great.”

  “How great?” His hands slip around my waist, my back bending as he leans me over the sink to kiss me hard.

  “The greatest.”

  “Work?”

  “Not for another two hours. Then we need to leave for the airport. We land in New York right in time for the rehearsal dinner,” I remind him, pointing to my dress and his suit hanging on the closet door. This weekend, we’re going to celebrate Natalie and Gray as they marry for the second time with their little guy in attendance, cheering them on.

  “So we have time, then.” Eli pulls back, a saucy smirk glancing off his lips. His hair is disheveled, a dusting of stubble on his cheeks and chin. But his eyes…oh, his eyes, they could light up New York City for a year.

  “We have a minute.”

  “Then get that ass back in bed.”

  I quirk an eyebrow, “Eli, I’m seven months pregnant.”

  “And yet you’ve never looked more beautiful.” He steps back, tilting his head toward the rumpled sheets of our bed.

  “You just want to get laid.”

  “Hell yeah I do. Have you seen this body?” He gestures at my baby bump.

  “Eli! I’m huge.”

  “You’re perfect.” He steps into our bedroom, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Stepping past him, I sashay back to bed, untying my robe and letting it puddle on the floor.

  Eli sucks in a breath behind me. The sound makes me smile.

  I shoot a come-hither glance over my shoulder. “You coming, Hollywood?”

  Eli grins, pouncing on the bed and pulling me on top of him. “As if I’d ever tell you no.”

  “Love how you turned that one around.”

  He laughs, but in the next moment his mouth is moving over mine and I forget all about our silly banter. The truth is, pregnancy hasn’t slowed down our appetite at all. If anything, I’m even more voracious, my hormones skyrocketing when Eli climbs into bed beside me each night, or sips his coffee in the morning, or…does just about anything, if I’m being honest. God, I could watch him pick out items for the nursery ‘til the proverbial cows come home.

  It’s swoon worthy.

  I straddle him, both of us maneuvering to accommoda
te my growing belly. Within moments, his hands are in my hair, his fingers pressing into my neck as he guides my mouth to his. He kisses me softly, our lips melting together as effortlessly as ice cream on the beach. He pulls back slightly to glance up at me, his expression thoughtful. “I love you, Zoe Clark.”

  “Love you more, Eli Holt.”

  “I’m going to show you just how much,” he grins.

  “Better get to work then, Hollywood.”

  Laughing, he spins us around so I’m propped up by a sea of pillows. The calm, tranquil space we’ve created for our bedroom, all neutral tones and warm fabrics, wraps around us like a hug, holding us captive in the perfect snow-globe of our own little world.

  Eli’s frame hugs mine, our bodies slipping into a natural rhythm. His fingers glide over my skin, hot and searching. My nails dig into his back, finding purchase, and pulling him even closer. His tongue dips into my mouth and I close my eyes, feeling him everywhere. Wanting and needing, Eli doesn’t leave me hanging for long.

  In fact, it only takes about five minutes until he’s calling out, “That’s one.”

  I exhale, spread out naked beneath him. “What number are you going for?”

  “Today?” He glances at the clock on my nightstand. “I think this morning calls for four orgasms. At least.”

  “Four?”

  “Want you walking into that gym looking like your man just worked you the fuck over. Don’t want any of those boxers getting ideas.”

  I snort, rolling my eyes as Eli peppers kisses across my collarbone, biting my shoulder.

  I hiss and he slides into me, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head from the fullness, the friction, everything he is.

  “Give it to me, Eli,” I breathe out. My hand finds his, our fingers lacing together as he presses me into the mattress.

  “Gonna give you everything, babe. Every. Damn. Thing.”

  And he does.

  * * *

  Thank you so so much for taking a chance on Zoe and Eli’s story! I hope you loved them as much as I do. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please leave a review.

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  Rescuing Broken

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  Start the series now with Rescuing Broken, an emotional and heartbreaking second chance, military romance!

  * * *

  Evie

  Jenny and Miranda have moved on to sugary sweet, brightly-colored beverages that remind me of all-inclusive vacations to Mexico or the Caribbean. Completely out of place in Raf's, we can't stop joking over how ridiculous they are, but Lenny insisted as he's trying to improve his bartending skills. Still nursing my G and T, but drinking more of my water, I smile at my friends’ antics, posing for a quick selfie.

  I'm looking over Jenny's head, laughing at something she's saying, when my eyes fasten on his. A mirage. A shadow of my past still haunting my present, despite his absence from it.

  It's the scar that causes me to falter, the sight of it, long and thin and pale, hooking around his left eyebrow like a jab. Like the ones he threw so many years ago on the football field. Back before I really knew him. Back before I fell in love with him.

  Sometimes, it seems like yesterday and other times, another life completely. And yet staring at the man before me, tracing his scar with my eyes, it still takes a full minute for me to realize that it's him. Undeniably so.

  Jaxon Kane has returned home.

  And I've never left.

  I swallow back a nervous giggle threatening to escape as I avert my gaze, my fingers moving to grip the underside of the bar for something to hold on to. Some of my drink sloshes over the rim of my glass when I knock it with my elbow, and I watch the little droplets as they form a sticky pool on the surface of the bar. I take a deep breath. Jax has always had this ability, to somehow knock me completely off balance while centering me at the same time.

  "Is that..." Jenny’s eyes flick over Jax's shorn hair, his broad shoulders, the soft blue Henley that hugs the well-defined muscles of his biceps, the faded jeans hanging low on his hips.

  "Jesus, he's still sexy as fuck," Miranda says, twirling her fuchsia cocktail umbrella.

  "Mm-hmm," Jenny agrees, plucking a Maraschino cherry out of Lenny’s fruit tray and popping it into her mouth.

  I want to roll my eyes at their antics or laugh off their words. Or chime in with something witty. Instead, I look down at my hands, my nails digging into the underside of the bar, my fingers stinging. I try to distract my mind from the sudden, albeit expected, burn of tears that smart behind my nose.

  Jaxon Kane is back.

  "Don't look now, " Miranda says, alerting me that Jax must be making his way over.

  "Evie." His voice is low and husky, smooth and unhurried. It's exactly as I remember and completely different. More mature, worldly... harder.

  My body involuntarily reacts to his nearness, to him. My hands grow clammy, my heart races in my chest; I feel my pulse quicken in my throat, throb in my temples. It’s thrilling and terrifying and overwhelming. I bite my lower lip, still looking at my hands, urging myself to pull it together.

  Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I meet his gaze, forcing my lips to curl upwards in what I hope is a friendly, casual smile. I can be normal. "Jax."

  A ghost of a grin shadows his lips but it's gone so quickly, it may have been a trick of the light. He smiles easily at my friends, greeting them as though he just saw them a few days ago at the mini-mart. I’m relieved when Jenny and Miranda chat him up, peppering him with random questions and allowing me a moment to collect myself.

  It seems like only seconds pass before his eyes cut back to me. They’re the same seafoam green mixed with moss that I remember from high school but a graveness lines them now, a maturity loaded with experience, shadowed by sorrow. Nerves skate up my spine at the heady silence and I shiver.

  "You're home." I swallow, desperate to fill the still space between us.

  "Yeah," he answers, looking around the old, beaten-down bar. He runs a hand over his head, something he does when he's nervous. "How are you?" he asks, turning back to me, his eyes peering into mine.

  He holds my gaze for several seconds, and I feel frozen to the spot. A tick pulses in his jaw, and I know whatever he sees in me concerns him. He didn't expect to find me here, to randomly run into me at Raf's. He must think I'm lame, still hanging out in the town bar while he went off and explored the world, helped others, and changed lives.

  "Great. How long are you here for?"

  He continues to watch me. His eyes track how my knuckles turn white from my grip on the bar, the way I can't stop chewing the left corner of my mouth, and how I'm so nervous to be standing in front of him, I could worry myself away.

  "For good," he says finally, rocking back on his heels. "I'm back, Evie."

  "Oh."

  "Oh?"

  "Hey, Jax, you want a beer or something?" Miranda cuts in.

  Jax turns to her and shakes his head, an easy grin on his lips. That's the thing about him; he's always warm, sincere, genuine. He lets others in as easily as I block them out. "No, thanks." He gestures toward a booth in the back. "I'm here with my brothers. Carter's already grabbing drinks."

  "Carter's here?"

  Jax's head swings toward me. "Yeah. Why? You want to come say hi?"

  I shake my head, my skin tingling from his proximity, my heart short-circuiting as a sense of awareness consumes me. Jaxon Kane is here. Talking to me. "That's all right. You guys enjoy catching up."

  He tugs the back of his neck before reaching toward me. His fingers squeeze my elbow gently, and I flinch out of habit. Guilt and embarrassment bloom in my cheeks the second I react, and he pulls away as if I've burned him. Maybe I have.

  "You okay?"r />
  "Fine. I, uh, I just need some air." I look past him and focus on the door, finally letting go of the bar and taking a half step back. "Good to see you, Jax. Welcome home."

  I ignore Jenny's concerned expression and Miranda's wink as I cut around my friends and hurry out the front door of Raf's into the sticky, sweet night air.

  Turning to the left, I walk around to the side of the bar, near the entrance to the kitchen. There's enough light that I can see anyone approaching but enough quiet that I can take a minute to process everything that just happened.

  He's back.

  Holy hell. I can't believe it. I never thought I would see him again. After he left, it felt like my world was ending. That summer, he kept reaching out, phone calls, emails, text messages. Every time I heard from him, the hole in my heart simultaneously stretched and shrank. I looked forward to the sound of his voice even though hearing it cut me to the core.

  But then I asked him to stop. Demanded it. Told him to just let me go.

  And he did.

  I still remember the day he told me he enlisted. It haunts me almost as much as everything that came after.

  He's nervous. I can tell the moment I descend the stairs, faltering momentarily on the landing. Whatever he's about to say, I already know I don't want to hear it. I wonder if I can turn around and stumble back up to my room and ignore whatever it is that has that look crossing Jax's face.

  "Evie." His voice is low and husky, his hand reaching up to tug on the back of his neck. He won't meet my eyes, and a sinking sensation settles in my stomach, floods through my limbs, and keeps me rooted halfway down the staircase.

  "What's going on?" I hate the shaky note in my tone.

  Gripping the banister, I take the last three steps slowly, my eyes never leaving Jax as he struggles to look anywhere but at me.

  "Can we, um, talk for a minute?" He turns toward the formal sitting room that my mom only uses for her obligatory military entertaining. It's stuffy and serious, and a room I never thought I'd find myself in with Jax.