Lie to Me

by Natasha Preston

  Kent is sitting in the same seat with his legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles. He's transfixed on something on his phone, and he doesn't see me walking toward him.

  Be normal around him.

  "Hi," I say.

  His eyes flick up. He sits taller and lowers his phone. Jesus, he's gorgeous. "How did you get on?"

  "She's unsure. I had an X-ray and now have to wait for the results."

  He dips his head in a nod. "Is it still hurting?"

  "Not as much. She rocked and gave me paracetamol." I sit down beside him. "Can we forget earlier? I feel like we continuously get off on the wrong foot, and if we're going to be working in the same place while you put together the storage, we should be civil, right?"

  "Sure," he replies. His answer comes a little too quickly, and it's just a touch too snippy.

  Translation: I'll tolerate you if I have to.

  I guess, after all my crazy toward him, that's probably more than I can ask. Besides, once he's finished helping Heidi, I won't have to see him again--or hopefully, not for a long time. He stops by the studio to see Heidi sometimes, so I'll probably still see him then.

  I turn my head away when he raises his hand and falls back into his phone.

  I regret taking my book out of my bag last night. I'm going to be bored as hell, sitting beside someone on their phone, until my X-ray hits the top of the pile.

  Biting my lip, I tap my feet on the floor as the silence between us seems to take a life of its own. He doesn't seem to be bothered at all. He's perfectly happy to ignore me and play on his phone. I, on the other hand, want to fill the silence with anything. Or run away.

  Running sounds like a plan. I'm good at it, too. It's kind of my thing.

  After about fourteen hours--okay, twenty minutes--I'm called through by a doctor the height of a mountain. I crane my neck to see him as we walk into a curtained-off room. It's sterile in here, which isn't bad, but the smell stings the back of my throat.

  "Okay, Miss Dean, I've reviewed your X-ray, and as you can see here, you have a small hairline fracture in your wrist." He points out the tiny line--thankfully, because I can't see a bloody thing.

  Squinting, I lean in and can only just about make out a faint line beside his index finger.

  Sitting back, I ask, "What happens now then?"

  "You'll need to wear a splint for six weeks. We'll give you an appointment to have it X-rayed again before it can be removed."

  He picks up a black splint from the table. It looks like it will span the length of my lower arm. It's going to be a pain, but at least it's not my right hand.

  "I'm not going to be able to drive, am I? My car is manual." I won't be able to change gears.

  "I'm afraid not. You need to keep this on."

  After fitting the splint, the doctor goes on and on about things I can and can't do, and I'm handed a printout of the same information and a box of painkillers to take home.

  "Do you have any questions?" he asks.

  "No, I'm good. Thank you."

  I'm on my feet and walking out of the room the second he nods, dismissing me. The splint on my arm is mega tight, but I suppose it has to hold my bones in one place.

  This time, when I walk out into the waiting room, Kent looks up. He's probably done that with everyone who walked out because he is bored and wants to leave. He stands up, his eyes trained on my wrist.

  "Is it actually broken?" he asks.

  "Small hairline fracture. I have to wear this for six weeks ... and I can't drive."

  "Sucks. You have family around to help you though, right?"

  Has Heidi not told him that I have no family? Or has she, and he's pretending he doesn't know?

  "There's just me, but I'll be fine. I don't live too far from work, so I usually walk anyway." I'll bet that it rains for six solid weeks now though.

  "Just you?" he whispers.

  I know a little about Kent's family from Heidi. There are three siblings, and they're all close, as they are with their parents and the extended family.

  Must be nice.

  "Yep. It's fine honestly. I'm perfectly happy, being by myself."

  That's not a total lie. I'm definitely much better off alone than I was before. Can't say I don't miss having people around, but I like that no one knows my past, and that's how I want to keep it.

  "All right. But is there anyone to help while you're getting used to only one hand?"

  We start to walk out of the building, and I feel the stress starting to ebb away. I don't like it in there. "I'll be fine. It's my weaker hand anyway, and I'll live off takeaway for a few days until I get more used to it. Ha, there is a plus side to fracturing your wrist."

  "Hilarious, Savannah," he says as we walk to his car.

  "Thank you again. It is actually nice to have someone here."

  "Even me, huh?" He unlocks his car and opens the passenger door for me.

  Laughing, I grin at him. "Yeah, even you."

  I drop my bag in the footwell and sit down. I'm about to reach across and shut the door when Kent slams it shut. A smile tugs at my lips, but it dies as he gets in the driver's side.

  Kent drives us back to the office, and it isn't as uncomfortable as before.

  Heidi is on her feet as soon as we walk through the door. "Savannah, are you okay?" Her eyes fall on my wrist. "It's really broken?"

  "Fractured."

  "A small fracture," Kent adds.

  "Let me fracture your wrist, and we'll see how you get on," Heidi says.

  "Wow, that's both of you threatening physical harm. I'm going to get on with this unit," he says, heading into the storeroom.

  Heidi steps closer. "You should go home and rest."

  "I'd rather be here." After visiting the hospital for the first time in thirty-eight months today, I'm definitely not ready to be home alone. "I've taken painkillers anyway, so I'm feeling fine."

  "Savannah, I really think you should be home."

  "I'd go crazy, sitting indoors, after the weekend. I promise not to do too much, but I can catch up on emails just fine."

  Sighing, she chews on her lip, debating on whether to believe I'm all right or make me go home. "Okay, but if your wrist starts hurting, you're out of here."

  "Deal."

  I'm just not going to tell her if it does. I can't be alone right now. Who knows if I'd be strong enough to resist the messages from Mum and Simon? Today is a massive pile of shit, plus the injury, and I don't want to risk letting it all out in a ranty reply.

  "Sit down, and I'll make you a cup of tea."

  "Mine's a coffee!" Kent shouts from the other room.

  Heidi rolls her eyes. "Did he behave himself while you were at the hospital?"

  Mostly. It was me who was the idiot. "He was great."

  She smiles. "I'll go make that drink."

  I sit down and log in to the computer.

  In the background, I can hear Kent moving things again. My heart beats a little faster.

  4

  Kent

  Savannah's accident means that I'm way behind where I want to be. I planned three days to put the storage together because Heidi had bought so many shelves and different units with stupid smaller shelves and drawers inside them. I'll now be there for a fourth day, possibly fifth, because I no longer have Savannah's help with moving all the shit my sister has from one side of the room to the next.

  I called the guys for an emergency night out because I'm in a foul mood, and I know only alcohol and those dickheads will be able to cheer me up.

  A woman would usually cut it, but it was a woman who constantly aggravated me all day. After her performance at the hospital, I'm not sure if I still think she's just meek, hiding herself--but why?--or if I think she's fucking insane.

  She definitely acted insane. We've never spoken much, and she's never snapped back at anyone. Even Heidi says Savannah needs to stick up for herself and not let people walk all over her. This morning, she definitely stuck up for herself, but the
re was more, and it was weird. So, I need this drink tonight.

  Plus, I can still smell coconut.

  Fuck coconut.

  Toby sits down opposite me at the table and lifts his black eyebrow. Max is with him. They both look at me like they're about to interview me.

  "What did she do? I want details," Max says.

  "She ... I don't even know, man. I don't want to talk about her."

  Max chuckles. "Sure, you don't."

  Toby picks up one of the three beers I ordered. "So, you broke her wrist, and now, you're pissed at her?"

  "I did not break her wrist."

  He looks at Max. "You said he didn't take the heavy box for her."

  Max nods and replies to Toby as if I'm not even here, "That's what he told me."

  "Hey!" I snap, and two pairs of eyes flash to me. "I didn't realise the box was that heavy, and that wasn't the problem anyway. She tripped."

  "Doubt she would have if she hadn't been carrying a heavy box though," Toby says, putting his beer down.

  Max shakes his blond head. "I think Kent's here to ease his guilt, and he wants us to do that."

  "Will you two fuckers stop talking as if I'm not here? I don't have any guilt over Savannah Dean."

  "Huh. That sounds like something a guilty person would say," Max jests.

  "Why did I think you two would help?"

  Toby chuckles. "How is her wrist?"

  "Hairline fracture. She went back to work after, so it can't hurt that bad."

  Max snorts. "I have a week off work when I get a cold."

  "I doubt Savannah has ever pulled a sickie in her life. She's too good."

  "I don't really know what to think about this. Toby, Kent hasn't had women troubles since that bitch, what, six years ago, and now, we're being called to meet for Monday night beer over some chick."

  "Again, stop with talking like I'm not here, Max. And will you grow a pair over the Monday drinking?"

  "Why did you call us here?" Toby asks.

  "She's just frustrating and infuriating."

  "Ohh. You like her," Max says.

  "No."

  That is not the case. I'm not even lying to myself. Savannah might well be the most stunning thing on the planet, but that's it. If I'm ever going to like someone again after the last time, it's going to be someone with personality, who won't randomly snap at me for no apparent reason.

  Actually, I don't mind the snapping thing.

  Max draws his eyebrows together in a frown. "Are you sure?"

  "Really sure." I rub my forehead. "As a rule, I've stayed away from women, you know, besides a shag, since Freya, and today has just reaffirmed how right that decision is. Today just threw me off, spending time with Savannah and generally being pissed off because she's such a pushover."

  Toby takes a swig of beer. "Maybe you're just not giving the girl a chance. What's her story?"

  Frowning, I reply, "I don't know really. She doesn't have family around; she said it's just her but didn't want to talk about it. I'm not sure of anything; she just doesn't seem herself."

  Not that I know who the real her is.

  "Well, maybe there's something there," Max says. "You have issues from Freya. Maybe Savannah has issues from her family."

  I didn't think of that. "Heidi said Savannah doesn't share much, but she might know a bit."

  Toby holds up his beer. "There you go. Ask your sister."

  "Hold on. I'm looking her up." Max taps away on his phone.

  I lift my eyebrow. "You're social media-stalking her?"

  "Don't say that as if the whole world isn't doing it. What's her surname again?"

  "Dean."

  This feels wrong, but I want to know more.

  "Okay, Savannah Dean, let's see what you've got in your closet."

  Toby and I watch Max as the seconds stretch on.

  "Well?" I ask.

  He shows me profile pictures, but I shake my head at each one. None of them is Savannah. We move to Twitter and Instagram but nothing.

  "I can't find her on Facebook, Twitter, or Insta." Max looks up. "Something ain't right about her, bro. Where does she live?"

  "We're not stalking her for fucking real!" I snap.

  Max rolls his eyes. "You're such a fucking pansy."

  "Dude, I think that's illegal. Actually, I know it is." Toby rubs the stubble covering his jaw. "Has this girl gotten to you this much?"

  I shake my head. "Nah. You know, let's just forget her. She's not important, and after this week, I won't have to see her again."

  Max lets go of his phone, and it drops to the table. "So, I'm not stalking her anymore?"

  "You weren't doing it before. She's not on social media," I reply. That is weird in itself.

  I think the thing that bothers me is, no one really knows much about her, and Heidi trusts her with her business. Our family has been burned before--fucking Freya--and Heidi hasn't hesitated in diving in, assuming Savannah isn't going to double-cross her.

  "Tell me you guys had a better day than me."

  "I had sex with a coworker in the restroom," Max says.

  I nod. "The one you've been wanting for a while?"

  "No, her friend."

  Toby playfully punches Max's arm. "Close enough."

  I listen to the guys talk about how much of a slut Max is, much more than me and Toby combined, but my mind is still on Savannah. Something is off about her, something I don't trust, and I won't be able to relax until I know my sister's livelihood is safe.

  I get to Heidi's office a little after nine in the morning. She's behind her desk, sketching something that looks like a dress or a long top. It's fucking ugly, but it's not really aimed at me.

  "Morning," she says, looking up from her work. "There's a coffee on the kitchen counter for you."

  "Thanks. Where's Savannah?"

  "In the storeroom."

  "What's she doing in there? She's only got one good arm."

  "Kent, enough. She's not moving anything."

  Then, what the fuck is she doing?

  Heidi keeps all her accounts and banking information in there.

  "Well, what's she doing then?"

  Heidi's blue eyes fire daggers. "She's getting the banking together to pay some in cash."

  She does that?

  "And you check what she's done, right?"

  "Kent!"

  "What? How much do you really know about her? You have to check that she's doing what she's supposed to."

  "Okay, don't tell me how to run my business, and don't assume that Savannah is a bloody thief. I know enough about her, as much as any employer knows about their employee, so back off."

  Raising my hands, I take a step back. "All right." Jesus, what's up her arse?

  I walk around the partition to the kitchenette area and pick up my coffee.

  She might think she knows enough about Savannah, but I don't. My gut is telling me that something is wrong with her.

  I'm getting Freya vibes from Savannah.

  I take my coffee into the storeroom where Savannah is sitting on the floor. She's wearing leggings and a long top with the slogan across her boobs, reading, #NOPE.

  She's cross-legged with a cardboard box in front of her and papers scattered around. Between her legs is a mug of tea. Looking up, her stormy grey eyes drink me in. She's gorgeous.

  "Morning, Kent," she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper, making her sound scared.

  "Morning," I grunt.

  Does her hair still smell like coconut?

  I want to punch myself.

  "I'll be out of the way in a minute. I didn't think it would take so long to find the paying-in book for the bank."

  "Why is it hidden?"

  That's something a business has handy, not chucked in some box.

  What's Savannah really up to with my sister's banking documents?

  Heidi needs to be more careful with who has access to those.

  "It's not usually. Heidi threw it in one of the f
our accounting boxes last week, but with the reorganisation, she forgot which one."

  I grit my teeth. That does sound like Heidi. She's an incredible designer, but when it comes to the business side of things, she's a nightmare. But that doesn't mean that Savannah isn't up to something she shouldn't be.

  I don't think she's being true, and I don't like her because she could easily take advantage of Heidi's kindness and scatty approach to business.

  Swallowing a sick feeling, I say, "I'll help. It'll be much faster with someone with two hands."

  Her full lips curve in a smile. "You know I still have my arm, right?"

  I kneel down and put my coffee on the floor. "Which boxes have you been through so far?"

  "This is the first. I might still have the arm, but it's slow-going without the use of it."

  I lift the lid off the second box. "How is the wrist?"

  "Painful. Much more today than yesterday."

  "You taking those pain meds the doctor gave you?"

  "No, I thought it would be more fun without."

  Whoa.

  She shakes her head, and her cheeks tint pink, like she's embarrassed by her outburst. "Yes, I take them every four hours."

  I find myself grinning despite not wanting to. Is this who she really is? Is the dull personality an act? I'm not sure yet. "And I see they've turned you into a comedian. How strong are they?"

  "I can't drive on them, but then I can't drive with this either," she replies, raising her injured arm.

  "Well, that's what happens when you don't look where you're walking."

  Her mouth drops open, but I can tell from the light in her eyes that the action is playful. "I couldn't see over the damn box. I thought the floor was clear."

  "It wasn't."

  "Yeah, no shit." She dips her stunning eyes and picks up her tea. "How much are you hoping to get done today?"

  All of it. I want out of here.

  "Not sure. I'm starting with the fucking full-height cupboards first, as they'll take the most time. I should be out of your way by the weekend."

  "You're not in my way, Kent. Technically, I am." She gestures to the box and papers over the floor and raises her eyes to me again.

  I dig in the box in front of me. "It's fine. You're the one who has a job to do. I'll work around you."

  "Ah, here it is," she says, lifting the paying-in book out of the box. She puts it down and brushes her hair off her shoulder, revealing her neck.

  Yep, she washed her hair this morning. I clear my throat, my gut tightening.

  "I'll just tidy this stuff away and let you get on. I'd offer to help, but I'm not sure how helpful I'd be," she says.