Perfect Lie(43)

Whose bed?




My phone rang before I could send back a smartass response.

“Whose bed?” he asked angrily.

“What is your fucking deal?”

“You gonna answer the question?” I heard Trish in the background, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the phone call.

“My bed. You done?” I snapped, as I kicked off my shoes.

“Liar, liar, Kettle. I’m looking at your bed right now, and it’s empty,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Ugh. Get out of my room, and stop calling me ‘Kettle’!”

“Are you alone?” he asked angrily. I rubbed my hand over my forehead, wanting to lie and tell him I was at some strange guy’s house, but I couldn’t do it.

“I’m alone. Now get out of my room.”

“Fine. I’ll go to our room,” he said, and the call disconnected. Just fucking great. I rolled over and stared at the small dresser across the room in the spooky old house. I didn’t know why I’d come here, but anything seemed better than listening to Trish and Abel screwing all night long.

I waited for the inevitable fight that was going to come. If I wasn’t with someone, there was only one place I would be. It only took about ten minutes for me to hear his car pull up outside and the engine cut off. I listened to the car door open and slam. It was only one. He didn’t bring Trish, and I thanked God for small miracles, but as the front door opened, my heart raced.

I listened to it close, and the lock clicked. Then I heard his heavy footsteps up the steps and down the hallway. I held my breath as the door opened; I was in no condition to fight, but I would give it all I had. I glanced at the silhouette of Abel in the doorway. He didn’t move for a long moment, giving me time to fully regret every decision I’d made that night.

“What are you trying to prove?” he asked. The anger in his voice was gone, replaced with concern, and it somehow made me more uncomfortable.

I tried to respond, but a sob escaped my chest, and he crossed the room quickly and knelt beside the bed. His fingers ran over my forehead and through my hair as his eyes searched my face.

“I didn’t think you’d be here, and I wanted one night of not having to listen to Trish getting laid. How did you know where to find me?”

“Lucky guess. If you wanted to avoid me, you shouldn’t have come to my place,” he said, as his fingers continued to soothe me.

“You live here?”

“Off and on. I bought it when my grandpa got sick. I knew I couldn’t stay in his place after he died…so I wanted a place of my own, and I found this.” He looked around the room. “It needed someone to take care of it, and I figured I could do the job.”

“You have your hands full.” I looked around the room and back at Abel, whose eyes never left mine.

“Don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh, and pushed himself to his feet as he shook his head. “Trish is pissed.”

“Great.” I put my hand over my eyes. “I can’t deal with her right now.”

“You don’t have to.” He pulled open a dresser drawer and tossed a T‐shirt at me. “Put that on. I’m going to go get you a snack and some water.” He walked toward the door but turned back to add, “Don’t go fucking disappearing, Kettle. If I have to hunt you down again, I won’t be so nice.” He left, and I pulled off my shirt and skirt and slipped the T‐shirt over my head. I reached my hands behind my back and unhooked my bra and pulled it off.





Chapter Eleven


Comfort Food



A few minutes later, Abel came back with a sandwich and a bottle of water. I ate the food with no complaint and guzzled half the water before coming up for air.

His eyes traveled down my bare legs and back to my face. “I’ll sleep down on the couch. Yell if you need anything.” He moved to get up from the edge of the bed, and I grabbed his wrist. He looked down at my fingers and back to me.

“Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”

“That’s a bad idea.” He shook his head, but I tightened my fingers as I silently pleaded with him not to leave me alone.

“Just talk to me,” I said.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” He shook his head. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Kettle?”

He stood, and I let my grip slip, but he didn’t leave. I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head, and I saw every dip and rise of his muscles in the moonlight. He stared down at me as he let his shirt fall to the floor and crawled into bed next to me. I slid over the tiny twin bed, and he turned me so my back was facing his chest. His arm slid under my waist and the other over my hip as he pulled my body back against him.