Page 57 of Best Served Cold

I slide in, setting my drink on the table’s surface, and find him watching me intently in a way that disconcerts me.

“You didn’t make me do this,” he says, reading my mind. “Like you said, you’d be doing me a favor. Emil too.”

“What about your father?” I ask, avoiding the impulse to chew my lip. It’s a bad habit, one the bullies at Rosewood Academy made sure to mock me for.

“My father cheated on my mother with Patricia,” he says flatly, leaning back on his side of the booth. “And then he started a family with her before the divorce papers had even been drawn up. He took me from my mom, because she was sick and needed help. It may not healthy to blame other people for your problems, but I’m happy to blame him for hers. I don’t care if he’s pissed. In fact, I hope he is.”

“What if he thinks?—”

He brushes his fingers across my hand splayed out on the top of the table. “I mean it. I don’t care what he thinks.”

“What about the money?” I ask. I know their father is loaded and has given Rob money in the past.

“You know about the trust fund?”

I nod.

“My mother needed to go to rehab again when I was in high school. I asked my father for help, and he said he’d let me use my trust for that instead of my education, but he wouldn’t recommend it.”

“And you did?” I ask with a gasp.

“Of course I did. I haven’t gotten another penny from him, and I wouldn’t take one. I don’t need his money. Don’t want it either.”

“And when you were the one who needed help?”

He works his jaw. “My mom brought me to meetings with her, and Travis helped a lot too. More than my sponsor. He still helps me when I need it.”

I’m tempted to ask him why he bothered going to any family functions at all, given the way he’s been treated, but I don’t. I recognize from the stubborn look on his face that he won’t tell me. I also know how complicated family can be. How you can resent someone down to the marrow in your bones but still want them to love you.

“I’m—” I cut myself off before I can apologize.

“You were going to say sorry, weren’t you?” he asks with a half-smile.

“You’ll never know,” I deflect, my gaze settling again on his swollen nose. “But I really don’t like that you got hurt because of me.”

“Jonah got hurt because of you a few weeks ago. Did you mind then?”

I decide on honesty. “No, not really. But you’ve made a point of being straightforward with me, and I shouldn’t have backed you into a lie. Especially a lie that got you hurt.” I gesture to his face as exhibit A, feeling my heart beat faster.

“I’ll lie for you,” he says.

“I don’t want you to have to. Pretending we’re together might be helpful to you, and I really do want to get back at Jonah, but I know honesty means something to you.”

He shrugs. “So we can start sleeping together to make it truthful.”

“Very funny.”

“Oof.” His lips curve into a smile that’s devastating to my nervous system. “You know how to slice through a man’s ego. Hold onto that for Jonah.”

He must be able to tell I’m still feeling guilty because he reaches for my hand. I give it to him, my heart pounding now. “I don’t like lying, but it’s a little white lie. It’s not going to hurt anyone, and it might do some good. Jonah lied about me, and to counter that lie, we have to stretch the truth a little.”

“That still sounds a lot like lying,” I say, remembering all the times he’s told me he values truth. Am I corruptingRob?I wouldn’t have thought it was possible a few weeks ago, but now I’m a person who stands on booth seats and makes public spectacles. Plural.

He squeezes my hand. “Take a few slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I take his advice, breathing in a pattern that helps calm my heart, or which should. He’s still holding my hand, and there’s a bundle of confusing feelings squirming inside of me.

“What happened to you, Sophie?” he asks, holding my gaze. “You think you were at fault for something. The thing you said you’d change if you could.”

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