Page 38 of Lucas

A murmur of hisses and boos echoes behind me. I hurry after the officer, not daring to look back.

“Did someone bail me out?”

“Sure did. We don’t just let people out for nothing.”

And then my stomach clenches at the sight of Lucas, pacing back in forth in the police station lobby. His shirt is untucked, jeans stained. The baseball cap in his hand is splattered with blood. A bandage wraps across his chin and a bruise has begun to bloom under his left eye. My heart squeezes with unexpected sympathy. I tuck my hands tight against my sides, resisting the urge to go to him.

“Hey.” He steps toward me. “You okay?”

“Yes. You?”

He blows a puff of air out of his nose. “I feel like shit.”

“Good. Maybe you won’t fight strangers in bars anymore.”

I hate how vulnerable he looks. It makes me want to go to him, and wrap myself in his strong arms and whisper in his ear that everything’s going to be okay.

He points to the reception desk. “You can gather your things there.”

I have seventeen missed calls between Marnie and Liz and a string of texts that start with concern, and end with thinly-veiled insults and threats. Damn it. I finish reading them, tears pin pricking my eyes, and swipe my arm across my eyes. I’m in so much shit.

“Can we talk?” Lucas says, sneaking up behind me.

I flinch, nervous he might touch me, which would be my undoing. As mad as I am, I only have so much willpower.

“I have to get to the office—” My voice catches. “I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other, Lucas.”

His voice goes hard. “I bailed you out, at least give me five minutes.”

I whirl around, eyes flashing. “You’re the reason I’m in this place at all.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I hold up a finger, warning him to keep his mouth shut. “You’ve said everything you needed to this afternoon, and I get it, you’re done with me. I accept that, but don’t you fucking stand there acting all indignant, thinking that you rescued me, because you didn’t. Not this time.”

Again his lips start to move, but the white noise buzzing in my ears makes it impossible to hear him. It doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure I have the last word, “Leave me alone, Lucas. I just want to go home.”

His jaw tenses. “At least let me call my driver to take you back to your apartment.”

I shake my head. “Don’t bother. I’d rather walk than have something else for you to hold over my head. It’s over.” His eyes flash and he reaches out. I stare down at his hand, forcing myself to be strong. “Let it go, Lucas. Let me go.”

Chapter 19

The office is as quiet as a morgue when I step through the front door and make my way to the boardroom. I’ve got a million excuses churning through my mind, but there’s only one way to salvage my relationship with Marnie and Liz—and that’s to tell them the truth.

When I enter, they stop talking, lift their gazes and stare. I expect the disgust I find in Liz’s eyes, but the sheer disappointment on Marnie’s face is almost enough to break me. I don’t remember the last time I felt this nervous. Grade school maybe, getting busted for sneaking out my bedroom window so that my best friend and I could grab Slurpees from the 7-11 and pretend we were real bad-asses.

Dad was waiting for me when I got home, sitting on my bed in the dark while I fumbled my way back through the window. He didn’t yell—I could have handled that. Deserved it, really. Instead, he left the room quietly, leaving me to conjure up any number of consequences, and left punishment to my mother. Three weeks grounding, and loss of the coveted bedroom on the ground floor. Back then, I thought my world was ending.

Taking a deep breath, I pull out a chair and force myself to sit. My stomach roils. Liz pushes a laptop toward me without saying a word, and turns the screen to face me.

It’s me, on Page 6, hands behind my back, just before I’m being hauled off to jail. In the background is Lucas Hammer, his eyes burning with rage. A shiver crawls down my spine.

“I know how this looks,” I say. My tongue flicks across my lower lip. “And I’ll explain everything…”

“Like how you lied to us,” Liz says, coolly. “How you’ve been lying to us for weeks.”

“I couldn’t tell you—”

Marnie scoffs. “You made a choice not to,” she says, voice cracking. “I gave you so many chances to share what’s been going on, but I understand now why you didn’t want to tell us.” She’s beyond angry, furious, but it’s the hurt that strikes a chord. “I thought you’d started seeing an older man, but this…”

She cups her hands on the table and my gaze drops to her nails. I don’t remember when I last saw them without polish. The remnants of her last manicure are barely noticeable, and for some reason, that stings.