The Best Lie (Damaged Book 2)

by Jenna Mills

  I hit send and started walking.

  His response zipped back immediately.

  Headed your way.

  Headed my way? That was…odd. Odd more for what it didn’t say, than for what it did.

  But I made myself keep walking, taking the most direct route toward Pearl Street, all the while looking around me, watching, watching for the guy, for L.T.—

  And then he was there, rounding the corner and striding toward me, cutting through the crowded sidewalk in that purposeful way of his. I still found it wild that he sometimes did undercover work— 6’4” with broad shoulders and piercing eyes, L.T. Cooper was not a man to blend in and not be seen.

  Unless he wanted to blend in…and not be seen.

  But the way he approached me, eyes trained forward and his steps long, told me he very much wanted to be seen.

  We met at the corner.

  “Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

  His gaze was narrow, focused—somehow making me feel safe but completely unnerved at the same time.

  “L.T.,” I said with a nervous little laugh. “You’re starting to scare me.”

  Normally that made him smile, but this time the lines of his face went tighter.

  “Now you know what you’ve been doing to me all week,” he muttered darkly, taking me by the elbow and steering me around a traffic jam of strollers, toward a quieter side street.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The comment was totally out of character.

  Still holding my arm, he glanced around, surveying a perimeter. Then, finally, he looked at me—seemingly into me. Then his gaze lowered…and his eyes hardened.

  I looked down—and saw the bag. The little pink bag in my hand with the artfully-arranged tissue paper sticking out.

  He so knew what was inside. Maybe not down to the black lace, but he knew it was lingerie…and he knew what—or who—it was for.

  I had nothing to hide, but a quick little jitter went through me anyway, as if he’d busted me doing something wrong.

  But he said nothing, just exhaled more loudly than usual and steered me to a bright turquoise bench outside a Greek restaurant.

  “Tell me,” I said, lifting my eyes to his. “Why are you acting so weird?”

  His shoulders rose, fell. His jaw tightened. And his eyes, they stayed hard, distant, but with an unmistakable sheen of compassion—the cop’s eyes, the ones I remembered from the night we’d met.

  At my neighbor’s.

  When he’d come into their living room and found me sitting on their sofa, with my knees drawn to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, rocking…rocking.

  “Ah, Jesus, Zoe,” he said, and my stomach twisted even harder. “I’m sorry.”

  Breathe, I reminded myself. Just breathe. But it was harder by the second. “Sorry about what?”

  His face expressionless, he reached for the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew a plain white envelope, handed it to me.

  I stared at it, at the pictures jutting out from the opening, and again reminded myself to breathe. This was L.T., the cop, and he was handing me photographs—

  Everything went slow-mo as I pulled them out and looked down, and saw. Saw Austin. Tall, lanky, smiling. Beside a creek.

  With a girl.

  Lexi.

  And everything started to spin.

  Numbly I flipped to the next picture, and the next, and the next, and they were still there, Austin and Lexi, standing by each other, talking, touching each other—arms around each other…

  “I’m sorry,” L.T. said quietly. “So goddamn sorry.”

  Everything blurred, rushed. Through the sickening haze, I looked up, but couldn’t focus, couldn’t fit the pieces together. “I don’t understand. What are these? Where’d you get them?”

  The stony cop look faltered. “I wanted to be sure he was who he said he was—”

  Something cold and dark started to bleed through me.

  “—looked him up—”

  Like Austin said he’d done with me… “Y-you found these online?”

  L.T. frowned. “No. I followed him.”

  Followed. Him.

  L.T. followed him. Followed Austin.

  My stomach twisted. “You took these?”

  “Yeah.”

  I looked back down, back down at Austin—and Lexi. Smiling at each other. Touching. Hugging.

  “His father works with her father,” L.T. was saying, but his voice was distant, remote, through a horrible spinning tunnel. “Their families have been friends for years. The kids grew up together. Austin and Lexi have been living together since the week after she graduated.”

  Living together.

  Austin—and Lexi.

  “It wasn’t random,” I realized.

  The meeting in the park, how he’d allegedly found my name by posting my picture, how he’d tracked down where I lived.

  “He knew.” All along. He’d known.

  Who I was.

  About the night.

  Everything I’d ever said in therapy…

  “He knew.”

  Streaks of crimson and swirls of yellow painted the horizon, broken only by the hulking silhouette of the Flatirons, and the glow of puffy clouds. Soon twilight would steal the last embers of the day.

  I stood watching, my hands on the cool wrought iron rail of the patio, a gentle breeze whispering around me. The sounds of something hip and jazzy drifted from a tall tower speaker. On the grill steaks sizzled. Inside candles flickered.

  It was like the whole world was on fire.

  “Thirsty?”

  I felt him come up behind me, and knew he was about to touch me. Even knowing wasn’t enough, though. Even preparing, bracing myself, wasn’t enough to keep my body from stiffening, and my stomach from twisting.

  He had his hands on me, just like he’d had his hands on her.

  Lexi.

  Then his mouth, his mouth at the base of my neck, soft, little kisses that only the day before had made me shiver.

  Now I wanted to vomit.

  “Zoe?” he asked, drawing me back against him. “You okay? You’re cold?”

  I knew I couldn’t stare at the mountains forever. I knew I had to turn and face him, even though the sight of him sent something dark and punishing twisting through me.

  I should have known.

  I should have known!

  I’d been so blind.

  Stupid.

  Tearing a page out of L.T.’s book, I turned, freezing a smile in place. “Happens sometimes.”

  His eyes, that woodsy shade of green, gleamed as he pulled me closer. “I can change that.”

  Only a few hours before, those words would have warmed me. Now they sickened. “I don’t think you can.”

  His hands, running along my arms, sliding against my back. Rubbing. Pressing. I could feel him, feel the length of him against me, the hard lines of his body. But not the heat. Because there was none. No heat, no fire that could penetrate the ice.

  I looked at him, at Austin, at this guy who’d walked into my life only a few days before, who’d said all the right things and done all the right things, who’d made me feel safe again, alive—who’d made me want to feel alive. Who’d made me want to be visible.

  Visible to him.

  A lie.

  All a lie.

  A farce.

  A game.

  Of Lexi’s.

  Exactly like she’d done to Emily.

  “Maybe we should go inside,” he said, urging me to do just that. Go inside. With him. His condo. His gorgeous North Boulder condo. With the expensive furnishings. And the bedroom upstairs.

  His condo that he shared with Lexi.

  L.T. hadn’t wanted me to come. He’d told me to stay away, that he would take care of everything.

  But that’s what he’d been doing for months now. Taking care of everything, of me.

  And I was so over that. So over being an object, something people took care—or messed with.
>
  I could take care of myself.

  Inside Austin led me to the sofa, cozy and new looking, leather and soft, like a well-loved baseball glove. He sat and drew me down with him. I settled next to him, my leg brushing his.

  Lexi had been here, I knew. Lexi had been right where I was. I’d seen the picture.

  I wanted to throw-up.

  “Relax,” he said, sliding his arm around me—

  I pulled away, reaching toward the sleek glass table in front of the sofa, where I’d set my wristlet next to three votives. From inside I withdrew the white envelope.

  Austin leaned toward me, bracing his arms against his spread legs. “What’s that—more pictures?”

  “Yeah.” My chest tightened.

  “For me?”

  The walls of the room pushed in on us, on me, closing. “They’re new,” I said, watching as he took them, as he slid them from the envelope and turned them over in his hands.

  Watching as he went unnaturally still—

  And his eyes unnaturally dark—

  Not sure that he breathed—

  Not sure that I breathed—

  But I knew that he saw, saw what I saw, saw him and Lexi by the creek, side by side, close…touching.

  We weren’t touching. Not anymore. I’d made sure of that. But I could feel him, could feel something, could feel something holding me, holding tight, tighter, refusing to let go, squeezing—

  A breath then. His. I saw his shoulders rise, fall. His throat work. “Zoe.”

  My name. That was all. Barely more than a breath.

  But I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to talk.

  There was nothing to say.

  To hear.

  Ripping away, I stood and spun toward the door—

  But he was faster. He caught me, caught me by the arm, stopping me.

  Chapter 10

  His eyes. They didn’t gleam anymore, didn’t gleam with the warm light of before. They burned. They were on fire, like the sky, the candle. “Zoe, wait—”

  “No.” The word squeezed out of me. Squeezed out with a force that left my throat burning. “I gotta go.”

  His grip tightened. His eyes burned hotter. “No. Not like this. I can explain—”

  I lost it. Everything exploded, everything I’d been holding in, the poison—the hurt. “Explain what?” I screamed, again ripping away, this time forcefully enough to put the sofa between us.

  “Explain that you lied to me? That you knew who I was all along? That that’s why you were at the park—that you followed me? That Lexi sent you?”

  “No. That’s not—”

  “Do you think I’m stupid? Did she tell you that, too?”

  “Zoe—”

  “I know!” I shouted—please, I hope it was a shout or a yell. Not a cry. I hope it wasn’t a cry. Crying is so weak, and I didn’t want to be weak, not anymore. “Poor little Zoe. Poor little pathetic Zoe. Just tell her nice things. Pretend to be interested in her. Pretend to like her and she’ll be putty in your hands—”

  He winced.

  “That was her last night, wasn’t it?” I wanted to know. “Who you were texting with? What…was she giving you instructions?” I should have known. The words echoed through me, louder and louder. Harder and harder.

  I should have known.

  Lexi knew exactly which buttons to push, and how to push them.

  “So what now, now that you got me in bed? When were you going to tell me? Or was she going to tell me—”

  “No—”

  “Or were you just going to dump me?”

  Finally he moved, lunging around the sofa—

  I darted away, positioning a chair between us.

  “Stop it,” he said, and then somehow he was there and the chair wasn’t, the chair was on its side across the room and he was reaching for me, both hands curling around my arms, holding me, not letting me move. “You’ve got it wrong.”

  “Do I?” I hissed. Then I laughed. “Then how do you explain those pictures?”

  He winced, his face contorting as if I’d just twisted a knife in his gut. “She’s my friend. That’s all. She told me there was someone she wanted me to meet,” he said hoarsely—really, really hoarsely. “Someone who could use a friend.”

  I held myself there, held myself there so, so still.

  “But she didn’t tell me why—not until after the day at the park, when I told her I wanted to see you again.”

  “You didn’t look me up online.”

  “I did,” he said. “After Lex told me your name and how she knew you—”

  Lex.

  “I-I remembered hearing the news—I hated that that was you.”

  A lie. It was all a lie. “You were with me because someone told you to be. You were doing them a favor.” The cold. The truth. They just kept pushing—punishing. “Well guess what? I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your pity—”

  “It’s not pity,” he said, but I’d heard enough, didn’t need to hear anymore. I broke free and lunged for the door.

  “Zoe.”

  “Don’t,” I said, swinging back to him. “Just don’t.”

  His eyes met mine, held. Destroyed. “I was with you because I wanted to be—because of you. Because you’re all I can think about. Not because of her.”

  My chest squeezed, but I knew better than to believe anyone that had anything to do with Alexis Abbott.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, but the words were barely more than a whisper. “I can’t even stand to look at you.” I paused, swallowed, lifted my eyes to his. “You’re not anyone I want to look at.”

  Wanted to know.

  And with that, I turned and walked away.

  This time, he let me.

  She stood there. She stood right there at the base of the curved staircase, beautiful, long dark hair glossy and perfect, makeup photo-shoot ready, skimpy black tube top and micro shorts straight out of a fashion magazine. She stood there, in Emily’s house with the mid-morning sun filtering around her—blocking my path.

  I’m not sure I’d ever hated anyone more.

  “I’m so sorry!” Emily said, clearly panicked. “I didn’t look before answering the door—I thought it was going to be someone else—”

  But Lexi dismissed her, just as she dismissed anyone who didn’t fit in with her plans—games.

  Lies.

  “Zoe,” she said with all the melodrama of a star in a reality show. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  I’d barely slept the night before. After I’d promised Emily that I was okay and that she should go to bed, I’d sat in the dark, replaying everything.

  “Austin told me what happened,” Lexi went on, as if we were life-long best friends. As if she cared.

  As if this wasn’t what she’d wanted all along.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered dramatically. “I never meant for you to get hurt…I just felt so bad for you and didn’t want you to be alone all the time…”

  It took all the self-control I had not to wipe the smug smile off her face. But that would be giving her what she wanted, showing her that her game had worked.

  Instead, with a hand on the rail, I started toward her. “What?” I drawled with an extra dollop of sugar sweetness. “You were afraid I might go and climb in a bathtub with a bottle of sleeping pills or something?”

  Emily gasped—Lexi froze. All that carefully crafted perfection, the air of superiority she worked so hard to project, glazed over like a sheet of ice.

  Something dark drove me to make it shatter.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, widening my smile as I approached her. “I would never do something that stupid.”

  Cracks. I saw one, two, threadbare fissures in her composure—

  “Try and take my own life,” I said with a pointed smile. “Or just make people think I did.”

  And then I was there, right there in front of her, eye to eye. “I’ve never been that desperate—or pathetic.”

 
Her eyes flared, and all those fissures carved deeper, sharper, shattering the façade, the image of untouchable perfection. “You bitch—”

  “Lexi.”

  The quiet, authoritative voice came from the foyer, where Dr. Rivers stood framed in the beautiful Tuscan archway. I’d never seen him in jeans and a knit shirt before—in his office, for therapy, he always wore slacks and a sports coat. Somehow he looked younger, more rugged, as if he’d just woken up, thrown on clothes and run all the way to Emily’s house.

  “Maybe we should all take a deep breath and start over…sit down and talk—”

  Lexi laughed. “Oh, look, here comes one of Zoe’s knights in shining armor, riding to her rescue…just like always.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me, and he knew. I could see it in his eyes, the sheen of sorrow and worry. He knew what happened with Austin.

  “Group’s not until next week,” I said, heading for the kitchen. I could go out the back door and reach my car that way.

  “Zoe, wait—”

  I didn’t.

  He caught me by the table with a hand to my arm.

  I stopped, stiffened, stared straight ahead.

  “Let’s go get some breakfast. We’ll talk.”

  But that wasn’t what he meant and we both knew it. Talk was code for psychoanalyze. He wanted to poke around inside my mind, see how I was feeling, what my next move was.

  “I don’t need to talk,” I said, pulling away from him. Glancing back, I forced a smile. At first it was hard, brittle, but softened the second my eyes met his. “I don’t need you to fix me, not anymore.”

  I could do that myself.

  I drove. I drove for a long time. I drove out of Boulder and into the mountains. I drove as morning blazed into afternoon and the sun rode high against a sea blue sky, as roads crowded by tourists gave way to only random elk. I drove until I turned onto a steep dirt path, and realized where I was going.

  Back.

  The last place, the last day.

  Before.

  To rewind, I realized. Go back to April, the secluded mountain stream where Hannah—

  Hannah.

  I veered off the narrow road and parked against the scrub, slipped on a jacket and my backpack, and started to walk. I walked through the aspen and spruce and pine. I walked against the swirl of the cool breeze. I walked toward the kiss of the sun. And when I reached the clearing and the woods gave way to meadow, I walked through knee-high grass and waving wildflowers of yellow and white and blue, toward the gurgle of the fast moving mountain stream.