Page 166 of The Next Lie

Reva folds her arms. Her embarrassment is still there, but her chin lifts, and that is Reva all over.

“Come on, Cal” she says. “You knew I was extra when you took me in.”

For one second, Cal just looks at her. Then something in his face cracks. Not much. Enough. He huffs, and then he laughs.

It is tired, reluctant, and a little broken around the edges. It is also the first sound from him since his arrival that does not feel weighed down by fifteen years of secrets.

Reva hears the same thing I hear. Her expression changes before she can stop it, and she giggles. And just like that, everyone is laughing.

We stand in the hallway and laugh. A pile of dangerous men pretending not to have feelings while Reva Leigh Hart stands in the middle of us with swollen lips, bright cheeks, and another assassin added to the household roster.

Cal clears his throat. “I need air.”

“I thought it was whiskey you needed?” I offer.

“It’s actually a monastery.”

Reva snorts.

Nash steps toward the office door, then pauses as if he remembers what happened inside and is deciding whether he wants to see the damage.

He looks at Deacon. “If my desk is broken, you’re replacing it.”

Deacon shrugs. “It held.”

Reva makes a strangled sound and turns away.

Cal points at him. “Do not try to help.”

He holds his hands up in the universal expression of innocence, his expression saying he has no intention of being useful in any way Cal would appreciate.

Nash opens the office door, glances inside, and goes very still. I lean around him.

The desk has shifted several inches. Papers are everywhere. A pen on the floor. A silver letter opener near the baseboard. One of the heavy books from the corner stack has landed open on the floor, face down, as if it gave up the good fight.

Nash closes the door again.

Slowly.

“That bad?” I ask.

He looks at Deacon. “Go get him the east room. Now.”

“Yes, milord,” I say. “Anything else, milord.”

“Shiloh.”

“Going, milord.”

I start down the hall with the bar towels still under one arm. Ever falls into step beside me.

Ever waits until we reach the bar and I’ve set the towels on its polished surface before speaking. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

I grab my keys and head for the door. “Incorrect. I am enjoying parts of this exactly enough.”

“Mother Superior knows.”

The reminder kills the smile I was wearing.