Page 39 of Man of Lies

Silas grinned and sat back in his booth to make room for a waitress to set down brimming cups of coffee. "Don't judge a book by its cover," he said, scanning the room in a way that made it clear he wasn't seeing the same things I was.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked, burning my tongue on the first sip. The rich, nutty flavor of the dark roast rolled over my tongue, instantly settling my rumbling stomach.

His fingers tapped the edge of his mug, eyes drifting to the window, tracing some far-off line I couldn't see. "When I need to clear my head, I just ride," he said evasively. "I pull off wherever feels right. Discovered this place on a road trip a few monthsago. It's got the best damn breakfast food I've found in any state."

Something about his familiar tone had me wondering how many mornings he'd spent here, how many quiet moments he'd taken in this odd little spot. The way he talked, like he'd just stumbled on it by chance, didn't match the ease with which he settled in, or the way the waitress winked when he caught her eye. He was trying to play it cool, like he didn't come here often, and I didn't see any reason to hide it.

"How many states have you been to?" I asked, casually fishing without pushing for anything specific. It was a tactic that didn't demand much but still allowed me to gauge how much he was hiding.

He shrugged, offering a lazy grin that didn't meet his eyes. "Everything south of the Mason-Dixon, I guess. Once I left home, I headed south and just kept going."

"That's…a lot of miles." I raised an eyebrow. "Where was your favorite place to live?"

Surprise flickered across his expression, there and gone, but I noted it because I'd never seen it before. Not from him. He was the type who always acted like he could see everyone else's cards.

The light in his eyes grew distant. "I stayed outside Baton Rouge for a few months," he said thoughtfully. "A tiny house on the bayou. Not much to look at, and my only neighbors were the gators. It was nice. Peaceful, you know? Nothing but birdsong and the sound of water lapping against the dock. Every morning, this fog would rise off the water and…shimmer…until the sun finally burned it off."

For once, the sarcastic humor that was so much a part of him dropped away, leaving rare sincerity. I imagined him barefoot on a dock, sipping his terrible coffee and enjoying the silence. It felt so far from who he was now.

I leaned forward, intrigued, and curled my hands around my mug. "What made you leave?"

His expression stiffened just a fraction, like I'd crossed some unspoken line. I thought he'd shut me down entirely for a split second, but then he pulled in a slow breath and reset his shoulders, deliberately releasing his tension. It looked like a practiced move. Something he'd learned in prison, I supposed.

"Work," he said casually, shrugging like it didn't matter. "I had to move on after a while. It wasn't exactly... legal. Not the kind of thing I make a habit of talking about."

I studied him for a second, wondering what he wasn't letting on, but he was even harder to read than my brothers. Secrecy was my bread and butter, but it didn't suit a free spirit like him.

I took a slow sip from my mug, letting the warmth seep through me, and aimed to lighten the mood a little.

"So," I began, choosing my words carefully, "Do you think you'll go back there someday? Or... you plan to stick around Devil's Garden for a while?"

It made no difference. That's what I told myself, anyway. But for some reason, I couldn't breathe while he thought it over. His fingers traced the edge of his cup, but his eyes were turned inward, running through replies I couldn't see.

In the end, he forced a relaxed smile and said, "I get bored easily. I figure I'll know it's time to leave once the excitement wears off."

Ouch.

That was a line in the sand I couldn't ignore. It wasn't like I hadn't seen it coming, not when he'd made it clear from the start that he didn't do complicated. Neither did I, but somehow, somewhere in the dark hours tucked into Silas's bed, I'd begun to wonderwhat if. But there was noif. No future. There was only now.

"What about you?" Silas asked, sizing me up curiously and leaving the uncanny impression that he knew exactly what I was thinking. "You ever think about getting out of here? Maybe opening your own law firm somewhere else?"

It wasn't the question itself, but the way he asked it—like he was offering me a lifeline—that had me bristling. I stared into my mug, swirling the last cold dregs, and surprised myself by telling the truth for once.

"I used to think about nothing else, but it's never really been an option, you know? Not with my brothers to look after."

"They're big boys," he drawled. "They can take care of themselves."

"Can you?" I asked, cutting him a piercing look. "Always? Or would having someone at your back have saved you seven years in federal lockup?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched, and I knew I'd scored a point. I met his eyes, lost in the swirl of darkness there, and swallowed the lump in my throat I felt whenever I thought of him and Ben trapped in cages.

"We're men," I said thickly. "This is how it's always been for us. How we all had to be, from the moment we were old enough toknow better. Don't ask for help. Don't let anyone see you weak. We handle our own shit, and if we don't, that's on us. No one's got time for sympathy. My brothers… they're the best thing to ever happen to me. Like winning the fucking lottery. If I can share the weight when things get heavy? I'll do it. Gladly. I didn't choose my family either time, but once they're yours, they're yours forever. I'm not the type to walk away from that."

I sat back in the booth and blew out a long, slow breath, letting go of the tension I'd been holding for what felt like years. A lifetime. Sometimes I wanted an escape, sure, and a man like Silas to tell me what to do. But I wasn't looking to run away or waiting for someone to tell me I didn't have to carry the load. This was what I was—whoI was. The one who didn't get to fall apart.

Silas winced, his grin slipping a little. "Ouch. Guess I should call my siblings, huh?" His voice was light, but I detected a sourness hiding behind the joke.

I didn't play along. "How many do you have?"

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