His face was pale, his eyes tired, and there were dark bags under them. He looked as if he hadn't slept since possibly the last time I saw him. He had a light beard, which was not something I was used to. If he didn't look like he'd been hit by a truck, I might have admired the way the beard magnified everything manly about him.
I tried to fight the urge I had to run to him and try and fix him. I reined in the need to hold him, reminding myself how his affection for me was simply an act, something he was paid to fabricate. The battle inside me was deadly and I still wasn't clear which side would end up winning. But, to his credit, I saw a battle going on inside of him too.
He stood, almost immediately, and started to make his way toward me, but I held up my hand.
"No," I said, more forcefully than I knew I had the capacity for. He halted in the middle of the living room, looking at me with eyes that begged for something.
"Lena," he pleaded. His voice, caressing my name, crashed through my veins, igniting the spark inside of me that had been smothered for so long. He looked as though only I had the ability to save him from drowning; he was waiting for me to throw him a lifeline.
"You don't get to say my name. You don't get to talk to me. You ruined me, Preston. You took the trust you begged me for and you threw it away like it was garbage. I don't know why you're here, or why you sent your family after me, but I want you to leave, now. Leave now and never contact me again. I may have been desperate enough to end my marriage to fall for your lies once, but I am not stupid enough to subject myself to you a second time." I took in a deep breath. "Find some other poor housewife to manipulate."
I turned to leave, but before I even made it one step, his hand wrapped around my arm, and then I was spinning back toward him. My black hair swung around, my mouth gaped open in surprise, and my shriek caught in my throat when I saw his face up close.
He looked absolutely tortured. Broken. Fractured.
"Please don't leave before I get a chance to tell you everything."
"You don't deserve anything from me, and I'm not going to listen to your lies anymore."
"I never lied to you," he growled.
"Oh, really? So all those times you let me believe you worked for me, that you were helping me, those weren't lies, Preston? That wasn't you lying to me?"
"I worked for Derrek until the very moment I saw you walk from your car into that bar. The instant I saw you, the moment my eyes found you, all my loyalty was to you, not him. Christ, Lena," he paused and ran his free hand over his jaw, his other hand still clamped around my upper arm, "I saw you and my world changed color." He moved infinitesimally closer to me, just a tiny step, and my damned breath stuck in my throat, my heart skipped a beat. Traitors.
"You can't sweet talk your way out of this. You still lied. You still gave him what he wanted." I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him, knowing that soon all the sobbing I'd kept at bay for months would break through my walls. If he kept talking, if he kept standing so close to me, I wouldn't last much longer.
"I had nothing to do with those photos, Lena. I swear." His voice had turned angry, but only his voice. His hand was still firm around me, but not painful.
"For some reason, I don't believe you," I said icily. I pointed my chin up and opened my eyes, meeting his straight on, feigning strength.
"Every reason you have to be angry with me is valid. You're right to be upset. But every wrong you think I committed was done in an effort to help you. Everything I did, I did for you, sweetheart."
My last string to sanity snapped at his endearment. My arms wrapped around my belly and I folded in half, crying. He let go of my arm only to crumple to the ground with me as I cried. He tried to comfort me, tried to wrap his arms around me, but I wouldn't let him, crying out "No," and pushing him away. I sat on the floor, crying into my arms, and he sat next to me. I could feel his need to touch me, could feel his desire to hold me, but I wouldn't let him.
We stayed like that for a while. Perhaps a half hour. And I cried until I didn't feel like I had any energy left in me to put out. In the end, I was just a puddle of a woman, hiccupping and trying to breathe normally, in the middle of his floor.
Finally, he moved to get up and I heard him enter the kitchen, then the faucet turn on, and a few seconds later, he was kneeling next to me with a glass of water and some pills.
"Ibuprofen," he said.
I sat up slightly and took what he was offering. The cold water felt blissful as it ran down my throat and spread throughout my belly.
"Please, come sit on the couch." I looked up to him and noticed his eyes were rimmed with red and I realized he'd been crying too. Not sobbing, like I had been, but crying quietly beside me. He held a hand out to me, a hand to help me up from the floor, but it felt like so much more. I reached for it and sighed when our skin met.
He pulled me from the ground in one fast movement. Gasping a little at his strength, I was reminded of how powerful he was, and had to tamp down the wave of lust that rode through me. It was hard enough to not be turned on simply by the memory of him, but the sight of him in front of me, the feel of him against my skin, to be handled by him again, was too much. I pulled away from him and moved to sit down on the couch. I took another sip of water and closed my eyes.
"Please let me explain," he whispered from the other side of the couch. "If it's the last thing I ever say to you, I want you to know the truth."
I couldn't really argue with him. I wanted the truth just as much as he seemed to want to share it. I just didn't know if I was ready to hear it. Listening to him tell the story of how he lied to me over and over again would surely break me open even more so than I was already.
"It hurts too much."
"I'm so sorry, Lena."
I let a pause linger between us, my eyes still trained on the glass in my hands.
"That helps," I said sincerely. And it did.
"Let me help more. Let me explain."
"I don't know if I can hear that tonight. I think I need to go home and go to bed."
He didn't say anything right away, but I could feel him tense. He didn't want me to go without explaining himself.
"I've been fighting for you for the past two months, Lena. I know it doesn't seem like it. I know how it must look to you, but every day I've fought for you. I'm not going anywhere. You need to hear the truth and if it's not tonight, it'll be soon."
I lifted my eyes to meet his and said with as much strength as I could muster, "You can't tell me anything I don't want to listen to, Preston. You lost your chance to explain anything to me when you lied." I paused and took in a deep breath. "If I feel like listening to your excuses, I'll let you know. But until then, leave me alone."
I put the glass on the table and then left the apartment without another word, surprised he didn't try to stop me or ply me with more words. I opened the door to my apartment and saw Piper and Parker sitting right where I'd left them.
"Oh, look," I said with snark, "more liars." I walked past them, not waiting to listen if they tried to argue with my assessment. Even though it was more than obvious I'd been lied to by both of them for the duration of my time knowing them, I didn't think they were dangerous. I was sure they did everything out of love for their brother, so I didn't bother making them leave. It wasn't worth the energy.
Chapter Six
After a night a fitful sleep, I woke when sunshine was suddenly filling my room. I heard the curtains being pulled aside and the warm, bright sunshine fall upon my face. I groaned and brought the blanket up to cover my head.
"Time to get out of bed, lazy ass."
I immediately flung the blanket off me when I heard her voice. "Sam!" I jumped out of bed and ran to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, hugging her like I never had before. "What are you doing here?" I asked into her hair.
"I figured you could use a friend right now."
I sighed with relief because she was so spot on. But then I tensed. She knew. She knew what was going on, which meant one of the three liars had told her.
"Don't be mad at me, Lena," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. "We all did what we thought was right."
"Not you too," I mumbled.
"I'm sorry."
I let out a groan and pulled away from her. "Well, what exactly are you sorry for?"
We both sat down on the edge of my bed, our knees pulled up so just one leg hung over, facing each other. "I'm sorry it took me two months to come visit you. That's one thing I shouldn't have listened to him about. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone. But, honestly," she paused, taking in a deep breath, "I knew if I came here, I'd never be able to lie to your face and I believe in Preston and what he's doing, what he's done. So I didn't want to risk ruining it. Not for the selfish need to see my best friend."