Page 26 of The Sculptor

“Sure you can, Ray.” He tilts his head to the side, a flash of anger hiding behind his smile. “That’s your specialty, right?” That fake smile morphs into a flat line—nothing but pent-up hatred behind it as he leans closer, whispering loud enough that Billy hears. “Because we’ve been here before, and you had no problem leaving me to drown back then.”

The blow stings much worse than I expected. I knew what he thought, and I’ve let him believe it all these years. It was easier that way—him thinking the worst of me. It assured me that he would look for someone better—someone who wasn’t broken, who would fight for him harder. Duke would move on. He’s more resilient than I am, and that’s all I needed to know—that one of us would end up happy.

But now?

Hearing him give up on me.

This man has already broken once in front of me. I won’t let him do it again without knowing the truth.

I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. “You’re right. I did leave before, but not because I wanted to.”

He tries to jerk away like a little kid, but I don’t let him. “You want to know where home is, Dr. Potter? It’s right here.” Dropping one hand, I grab his hand and place it on my heart. “Your home is here. It’s always been here. Even when I ‘walked away’ after my father forced me into a mental institution.”

Duke flinches, his mouth opening, but I don’t let him move. He’s going to listen to me. I might have been forced to walk away, but I never let him go. “I walked away, yes, but I kept you here. I’ve never married—never even had a boyfriend—because I couldn’t love anyone but you.”

Duke swallows and removes his hand from my chest, holding my gaze. “Then why are you with Langston?”

I sigh. “I just need you to trust me.”

I’m tired of fighting with him. He knows I’m up to something, so I might as well roll with it.

Duke chuckles and then motions to Billy for the bottle of bourbon, then takes a long pull, hissing out a breath through his teeth. “I should have known.”

He shakes his head and takes another drink. “All these years… wasted.”

Another drink.

“And for what? To know you didn’t leave and that I would have to relive the pain of you leaving all over again.”

Billy cuts me a look that saysone of us needs to take the bottle from him, and it isn’t me.

Great.

“Let me take you home, Potter.” I tug at the bottle, but his grip is too tight.

“And how do you suppose you’re gonna do that, Ray? Since home is there”—he points the neck of the bottle at my chest—“and you’ve locked me out of my home in the name of trusting you.”

He’s not making good sense, but he’s probably drunk a third of the bottle of bourbon. Making sense is no longer in his wheelhouse.

“You know what I mean,” I explain. “Let me take you back to your hotel.”

This time, it’s Billy who chimes in. “Good luck figuring out which one it is. All he can say is that it’s the big one on the strip.”

I chance a look at the mess of a man in front of me, the bottle poised at his lips as his throat works, trying to erase the events of today. He is hauntingly beautiful, even when he’s trying to forget me.

“I think I can figure it out,” I tell Billy.

If anyone knows Duke Potter and his favorite places to stay in Vegas, it’s me. We might not have ever come to Vegas together, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t lay out under the stars and talk about all the places we wanted to go. Not to mention that I bet neither of them checked his pockets for a keycard.

Leveling a knowing smile at Duke, I tip my chin at the bottle in his hand. “Give Billy the bourbon.”

There’s always been this push and pull between Duke and me, so as soon as he hears the change in my tone to one more playful, he responds exactly like I knew he would.

His legs close around me, pinning me in place. “Convince me.”

I grin. “Your heart,” I drawl, “for the bourbon.”

Duke groans as I finger the bottom of my shirt, indicating his heart is painted somewhere a little more scandalous than last time. “What’s it gonna be, Dr. Potter? The bourbon or your heart?”

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