Perfect Lie(60)

“Why do people bring their pets out in public when they clearly shouldn’t be around other people?” I snapped loudly, but the man ignored me.

“You’re barking louder than the dog.” Abel chuckled and snapped his fingers, causing the dog to lie down on the concrete.

“How did you do that?”

“Bitches love me.” Abel winked as he slid my food over to me.

He picked up a hot dog and took a bite. “My mom never let me eat these when I was a kid.”

I took a small bite, wishing I hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning.

“She cared about you. You were lucky,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, I was, but I didn’t know it at the time. I just thought she was trying to stop me from having fun, ya know? It wasn’t until I moved here that I realized how lucky I’d been, but it was too late.”

“Is there a point you’re trying to make?” I glanced up at him, and he smiled. A raindrop hit my cheek, and then rain began to pour down over us, soaking our food.

“You coming?” Abel pushed himself up from his seat but stopped when I didn’t move.

“I like the rain.”

“You’re gonna catch a cold.” He smirked, revealing one of his delicious dimples, his messy blond hair wet and hanging over his forehead.

“You don’t get sick from the rain. That’s an old wives’ tale.” I rolled my eyes and stayed put. I didn’t know what I was trying to prove, but damn it, I was going to prove it.

Abel sighed dramatically as he took his seat across from me at the old picnic table.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“If you’re not going, neither am I.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” I narrowed my eyes as I tried not to give into his playful mood.

“No, Lie. I’m worried about you.” I rolled my eyes, and he laughed, shaking his head. “The point, Kettle, is that you have people who care about you and want to help you, but you’re too damn stubborn to see it.”

“Who? Like Trish?” I brushed some raindrops from my forehead.

“Like me, Lie. Me. If you’d open your goddamn eyes.”

I looked up, his gaze intense as he stared back at me. “I don’t want you to rescue me, Abel. I just want to be left the hell alone.”

“Why? Because you have Brock? Some asshole who won’t even come see you?”

“He can’t.”

“Why? Why can’t he, Lie? Because if you were mine, I couldn’t go a fucking day without being able to see you.”

I pushed from my seat, completely drenched and boiling with anger. “Yeah, well, Brock can’t visit me because he’s in prison. You happy now? There’s the pathetic fucking truth. I’m alone. I’ve been alone this whole damn time, and your little stunt with that gun brought everything back.” I fisted my hands in my hair, gripping tightly as I gritted my teeth. “Goddamn it, Abel. You’re the exact opposite of what I need.”

He stood as my hands covered my face to hide the tears. He was by my side, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, Lie.” He tugged on my hand, and I let it fall.

“It’s not that simple,” I told him.

“It is. It is that simple. You choose to keep me out.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. “Jesus Christ, Lie. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head but couldn’t bring myself to pull out of his grasp.

“You may not want anyone to care,” he said, “but it’s too late for that. Let me take you home. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I have so much I want to say.”

“You scared me,” I whispered against his chest, and his grip on me tightened as his other hand went to my hair, stroking it softly.

“I know, Kettle.” I felt his lips press against the top of my head. “I’m so sorry.”





Chapter Fourteen


Screaming Fears



We drove to Abel’s house in silence. I was swimming with anger, sadness, and regrets of the past—stuck in limbo. Everyone sees life through his or her own experiences. Some grow and learn to live in the moment, like Abel. He knew how precious every second was and didn’t stop to think about tomorrow. I stayed fixed in the past, forever haunted by the things that had brought me down.

I knew if I could just open up and let him in, we could balance each other. But that was easier said than done. Knowing what needed to be done and doing it were separated by fear—fear of the past, the unknown. I was too angry, too stubborn to give him the chance.

I glanced around the living room. New sheets of plywood leaned against a wall, covering an old fireplace. New molding had been added around the ceiling.