Lie to Me

by McAdams, Molly

  As though she’d known I wouldn’t leave.

  “You be nice to him, Emma. Reed Ryan has the purest heart of them all.”

  I woke in a cold sweat.

  My arms crossed tightly over my chest.

  My head aching from how strongly I was grinding my jaw.

  I let out a shuddering breath and told my body to relax. Tried to force it. But thinking I could was easier than the reality. It was like listening to my brain beg my body to respond and watching my body laugh in response.

  I finally forced myself from the bed, my mind racing with images I tried to push away, my limbs jittery with the adrenaline pounding through my veins.

  Dragging my hands over my face, I turned for my closet and grabbed a clean shirt and shorts, then slid into my running shoes. I was out of the house and running within a few minutes of waking up.

  I took deep, gulping breaths of the humid air, letting it fill my lungs before I set my breaths to my pace.

  It wasn’t often those haunting memories crept into my mind, even less that they made it into my dreams. I knew I was lucky in that aspect. But when they did, I felt wrecked for hours after. Unable to scrub images from my mind. Unable to get scents from my nose. Unable to stop sounds from crashing down around me.

  But, again, I considered myself lucky.

  I ran until it felt like my lungs would collapse, then pushed myself a little farther until I reached the waterfront coffee shop.

  Once I was inside, I breathed deep, trying to smell the coffee and not the acrid smoke and copper.

  “Reed. Reed, hi.”

  Jesus.

  I glanced at the barista the excited, breathless voice belonged to and forced some form of a smile that quickly faded when I returned to focusing on smelling what was real. What was here.

  “Coffee or water this afternoon?”

  I looked pointedly at the woman trying to order and murmured, “I’m fine, Courtney.”

  The woman standing at the counter looked over her shoulder, her brows already drawn together in irritation and curiosity.

  It was instant . . .

  The way my body reacted to seeing her there.

  My heart kicked into an uneven, wild beat, so different from the steady hammering from my exertion. My hands twitched, wanting to trace and learn her subtle curves.

  The impulse to step toward her, just to be that much closer to her, had me struggling to stay in place.

  Just as it had when I’d seen her standing in Lala’s kitchen the night before.

  One look at her, and I’d known she would be more trouble than she was worth. Fuck if the reaction she caused didn’t make me want a little trouble though.

  Her expression immediately shifted into one of judgment and bewilderment. And just as it had last night, hostility poured from her as she looked me over.

  With a quick shake of her head, she returned her attention to Courtney and finished ordering before walking away to wait for her drink.

  I walked up to the counter, grabbing a bottled water from the display case as I did.

  “Hey, Reed—hi,” Courtney said eagerly. “You look like your run went well today. I mean, you just look like you ran. It’s so good to see you.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the girl I was watching from the corner of my eye. “That lady totally asked if we’re together. Can you believe it? Us?”

  Courtney’s laugh was slightly frantic and her stare was hopeful. And I had no fucking clue how to come off more disinterested than I always was with her.

  I smiled politely and reached for my pocket, my smile and stomach dropping when I reached for the other and realized they were empty.

  I didn’t even have my keys.

  “Shit,” I murmured.

  “What?” Courtney’s voice was full of alarm as she leaned over the counter toward me. “What is it? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just . . .” Another curse slipped from my tongue as I reached for the bottle to put it back. “I guess I left without my wallet today.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” she said quickly, reaching for my hand to stop me. “It’s on me.”

  “No. No, it’s fine. Really.” I nodded toward the faucet they used for the free cups of water. “I’ll just take a cup.”

  “Take it,” she urged, shoving the bottle toward me. “I’ll pay for it.”

  I let out a laugh that bordered on frustration and rubbed at the back of my neck. “I appreciate that, but I’m putting this away.”

  “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

  I was well aware of that. Every time she worked, she tried to give me something I didn’t ask for.

  My attention wavered when the girl from Lala’s kitchen grabbed a drink and started walking away.

  I wanted to get her name. Wanted to ask what could’ve happened in her life to make her so aggressive. Ask what it was about me that made her look like she at once wanted to fall into my bed and force me from her sight.

  I cleared my throat and focused straight ahead. “I’m sure.”

  Courtney’s face fell slightly, and something in my gut twisted.

  It’d been like this with her since I’d moved to Colby over three years ago. I’d never once encouraged or engaged in anything with her, I was only ever polite, but she always seemed to expect something from me.

  And every time she realized nothing was going to happen, her eyes dimmed, and it made me feel like the biggest asshole.

  I dipped my head when she returned with a cup of water and kept my smile neutral. “Thanks, Courtney.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, her face lighting up like I’d just offered her the world. “Oh, you’re welcome, Reed. Anything for you.”

  I started toward the door, tipping the cup back and draining the contents as I did.

  “Do that often?”

  I glanced to my right as I tossed the empty cup in the trash and paused when I saw the girl from Lala’s at the condiment station, focused on the iced coffee in front of her.

  Dressed in a button-down shirt and pants that fit her like a second skin and high-as-fuck heels that made her legs seem to go on forever and put her nearly eye-level with me. Looking better fit for a big city than what Colby had to offer, and exactly like the kind of girl I wanted nothing to do with.

  I had a type . . .

  Short girls with curves that never ended and smiles that could erase even the worst situation. Someone who preferred jeans and an old shirt over dressing up. Someone who didn’t look like they’d rather I was dead . . .

  If only the rest of my body could catch up with my brain.

  To be honest, Courtney would’ve been my type if she hadn’t planned out and told me our entire future the first time she saw me.

  “Do what?” I finally asked.

  She let out a soft huff and finished putting creamer in the drink. “Conveniently forget your wallet so the girls falling all over themselves will buy you things?”

  My brow furrowed at her sure tone, but she never gave me a chance to respond.

  “I know your type,” she said as she glanced at me from under her eyelashes.

  “Is that right?”

  Her hazel eyes flitted over my body for only a second before she returned to her drink. That judgment from earlier was back and stronger than before.

  So was the heat.

  The need.

  The impulse to take another step closer to her as if something was drawing me toward her.

  I stepped away instead and let myself take her in the way she had me.

  Her slender frame and long, blonde hair. The way she radiated anger and looked like money. But it was all offset by a soft, captivating face and wide eyes that made her look so innocent and pure.

  I’d never seen anyone so contradicting.

  “I had you pegged from the moment I first saw you,” she whispered and turned on me.

  She was so close, her expression fierce and, in the light of day, so different from how I’d remembered it.<
br />
  “I was told I was wrong. Clearly, I wasn’t.” Her eyes flitted to the counter where Courtney was watching with rapt attention. “You have her nearly climbing out of her skin, ready to do anything for you at the drop of a hat. And last night . . .” Her eyes widened as if that incomplete sentence said it all.

  “What about it?”

  “I was sent to your house to deliver dinner since you ran off without a plate.”

  I stilled. The wild beating of my heart sounding so damn loud as I waited for her to continue.

  Because I knew . . . I knew who’d come over. Who I’d let stay because I’d needed a release for so many reasons.

  The girl in front of me being at the forefront of every one of them.

  Not once during that time had anyone else shown up—that I’d known of.

  A breathless, mocking laugh fell from her lips when she turned back to fit the lid on her cup. “Reed,” she breathed. “Oh, Reed. God—yes—harder.”

  Her voice was soft. Erotic even through her mocking. And sent a shock of heat and need straight to my dick.

  Those words in that voice were sure to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  I dragged my hands over my face and then let them fall to my sides, my fingers curling into fists as they did. As flashes of this girl assaulted me.

  On her back.

  On her knees with her ass in my hands.

  Against the wall.

  Clinging to me.

  She sent me a cold glare that successfully pushed away every thought she’d just put in my mind.

  And there it was, as it had been the night before.

  That look like she wanted to push me as far from her as possible. Like I was the worst kind of human.

  “You may have other people fooled, but I grew up surrounded by men like you,” she said through clenched teeth. “I can pick an asshole like you out of a crowd.”

  “Men like me?” A sharp breath worked from my chest, and I nodded slowly. Grabbing a couple of napkins, I set them beside the drink where she’d spilled, then stepped away. “Since you know me so well . . . I guess we’re done here. Have a good day.”

  I didn’t wait for her to respond. I didn’t want to.

  After what I’d woken to, I didn’t have the patience to deal with this.

  I wanted to run.

  I wanted to forget.

  Exhaustion and lifelong fears wove through me as I climbed the steps of Lala’s porch, but the moment I walked through the door, some of the weight on my shoulders lifted . . . eased. As if just being in that house had the power to make worries and stresses disappear. Then again, it’d been that way my entire life.

  That house had given me a day or two of reprieve every year or so—a day or two where my life wasn’t what it was.

  “That you, Emma?” Lala called out from the kitchen, and I wondered what she would do if I were someone else.

  “You might want to consider locking your door, Lala.”

  A soft snort was her only response.

  I rolled my eyes as I set my purse on the entry table before heading in her direction, pausing in the archway and leaning against the frame. Watching as she baked something or other. I wasn’t sure the woman had ever once stopped cooking or baking since I’d arrived.

  “You were gone quite some time,” she mumbled without stopping.

  I lifted a shoulder. “I had a lot to do. Needed a new phone . . . things like that.” I studied her for a moment as she nodded, debating on telling her about the other parts of my day and who I’d seen before the words, “I saw your perfect Reed Ryan,” came tumbling out.

  She glanced up from her creation, hands and apron and temple covered in flour and who knew what else. Her pale green eyes brightened with excitement even though her exhaustion from yesterday ran deep. “Did you? Oh, I just adore that boy.”

  I made some sort of condescending noise in the back of my throat.

  I hadn’t told her what I’d heard coming from his house the night before, just as I didn’t plan on telling her what I’d seen with the barista.

  Besides, Lala had been disappointed enough that I’d come home so quickly after leaving last night . . . with his dinner still in hand.

  But it wasn’t her business—it hadn’t even been mine. I’d just been unwillingly subjected to both occurrences. Unwillingly subjected to dreams of those eyes and that smirk and what he could do with those perfectly muscled arms and body to make me say the things that woman had been screaming.

  I’d woken up in the middle of the night, equal parts disgusted, horrified, and aching.

  “I’m telling you, Emma. That boy is good to his soul.”

  “He’s nothing but trouble,” I disagreed, “in every sense of the word.”

  “You’re taking past experiences and projecting them onto him.”

  I wasn’t about to deny it . . . we both knew she was right. Didn’t mean I was wrong about Reed Ryan.

  He looked like a drunken regret and had heartbreak written over every inch of his body.

  Literally.

  There was nothing to guess at with him.

  “There’s something about him . . . I can feel it like a warning. You seem to trust him so much, and I just wonder if maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “I know what it’s like to put my trust in the wrong people,” she said pointedly, irritably. “That feeling you have? Maybe it’s because you’ve never been around a man as honest and good as him. The unfamiliar and unknown can do that to a heart.”

  “Heart? What are—” I realized then that I was pressing a hand firmly to my chest and hurried to drop it. “No. Lala, you need to stop pushing at that.”

  “I’m doing no such thing.” When I lifted a brow, she put her flour-covered hands in the air. “What you need right now is a friend. He lives close, and he’s here often, checking on Nora and me and helping around the house. You haven’t had much of a good anyone in your life, and I can’t think of anyone better than that boy.”

  “As a friend,” I said doubtfully.

  She snorted, the sound both delicate and slightly offending. “Reed Ryan deserves a girl who thinks he raises the sun each morning. You, my wounded child, would only attempt to tear the sun away from him with your doubts and pent-up wrath.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by that or not.

  I decided against it.

  “I don’t want him as a friend, Lala. I don’t want him as anything.”

  “Well, I won’t apologize when he stops by,” she said dismissively. “I also won’t ask him to leave. He’s more welcome here than you are.”

  I jerked back against the frame, caught off guard by her tone. It was sharp and defensive and laced with hurt . . . and it made my chest ache even though I knew I deserved it.

  Because the Lala I’d known had never spoken to me that way, had never been guarded with me. She’d been all open arms and unconditional love.

  Then again, I’d abandoned her. And, as she liked to keep reminding me in the short time I’d been here, I had changed.

  I straightened from the wall. “Um, I, uh . . . I was just coming back to drop off some things and see if you needed anything before I headed back out.”

  “Oh?” The word screamed indifference but worry poured from her.

  “I have to take back the car I rented,” I explained.

  “Did you need us to come with you to give you a ride back?”

  “No, that’s fine,” I said quickly, which only seemed to increase her worry, her entire body going still and hands falling to the island. “I’ll get a ride back.”

  After long seconds passed, she turned to the unbaked pastries with an uninterested hum.

  I hesitated for a moment, but when she didn’t so much as look at me, I shifted away, murmuring, “I’ll be back,” because it was all I could offer her.

  I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

  I couldn’t tell her why I’d suddenly left New York and shown up at her door. I couldn�
��t tell her that what happened had shaken me in ways it shouldn’t have because nothing had happened. And even if it had . . . it wouldn’t have been the first time.

  Because explaining that meant explaining the others to her. It meant describing all of Momma’s disgusting boyfriends and husbands and the dirty cops that had become a revolving door in our lives.

  With the way Lala had always tried to take me from a life she hadn’t fully understood, I couldn’t devastate her with the truth of what she hadn’t been able to save me from.

  I slipped away, grabbing the paperwork and box for my new phone as I headed up the stairs. Holding my breath and tightly gripping the rail as I went, unable to shield my mind fast enough from the wraiths that haunted and tormented me.

  “Emma!”

  I’d turned at the booming voice of Chris Dennison, my boss of the past three years, my eyebrows lifting when I saw the group of men laughing and stumbling along with him.

  “Em-ma, Em-ma, Em-ma,” he’d called out, pointing in the air with each syllable and dragging out my name the last time.

  I’d switched the thick folders I’d worked on through my late dinner to one arm and grabbed my phone from my pocket with the other as I smiled politely at the men. “Did you lose the car, Mr. Dennison?” I’d asked as I pulled up the number for the car service that was supposed to be taking them around for his bachelor party.

  “I should’ve known it would be you here,” he’d said, his words slightly slurred.

  “I’m always here,” I’d reminded him. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you at—” I’d tried to catch my phone before it could fall to the floor when it was smacked out of my hand, dropping the folders and spilling their contents at my feet as I did.

  “Oops,” my boss had said from where he was now directly in front of me.

  My chest had pitched as fear and carefully buried memories burst to the surface when I straightened and looked into his glazed-over eyes.

  “Weren’t there supposed to be more of you?” a guy had asked from his side, pointing at me and then around me. “I thought we hired more of you.” A grin that was pure charm and lust had stretched across his face as his bloodshot stare shifted down my body. “But you’re gonna be worth every dime, darlin’.”