Page 52 of Ly to Me
My arms folded over my chest. “Go on.” A vibration spread over my chest, stemming from my phone, but talking was the last thing I wanted to do. If only Leo here would get that hint and get it all out in one go.
“He was just in here yesterday and he said that he will be working from home, which I gather is no longeryourhome, too.”
My phone vibrated in my shirt pocket again and I hit the button on the side to ignore it. “Is there a point to your ramblin’ this morning, Leo, or are you actually going to wrap this up for me?”
Leo reached for the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. He said, basically, ‘I’m going to be working from home until Carver buys me out,ifhe does, anyway.’”
I smirked. “Right.” I tapped my temple. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I turned on my heel and pulled my buzzing phone from my pocket. “Boss?” My head hung as I sighed and turned. Leo camein close enough to whisper, “I don’t want him hearin’ this on the cameras, but—he called this morning, too. Said that he believes your wife is in danger ’cause you are losin’ your mind.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I glanced down at the notifications on my phone. “Leo, let me ask you somethin’.” I clicked open the security camera app on my phone and held it up so Leo could see. “Does this look like a woman in danger?”
Leo squinted. “No…is she—” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Did you guys have a fight?”
“We’re working through a newly wed rough patch.” I winked back at one of the cameras, hoping that worthless soon-to-be ex-business partner was watching.
Leo pointed at the screen and winced. “She’s stacking chairs in your yard and pouring gasoline on them.”
I smirked. “Yeah. Seems that way.”
19
Lyra
The Tether
There was a saying in the South that mamas yelled to their kids at the grocery stores when they demanded a piece of candy and then melted down because they were toldno. No oneever told me to stop pitchin’ a fit before because I’d never felt angry enough to pitch one. My fits were more…silent.
But, after wiping away my tears and cleaning myself up, I had no other option than to wearhisclothing.Hisboots. Eat the breakfastheleft out for me underhisdamn roof before he left.
So, I did the only logical thing and rippedhiskeys from the hook, gripping them so hard my knuckles turned white as I threw the front door open and stormed up tohispretty black truck, then got to work.
Pitchin’ my fit.
Metallic screeching sounds filled the air, lifting a heaviness from my chest in a way that made more tears stream down. I couldn’t even tell if I was happy about keying up his truck, or if it made me more pissed off. His rooster sure as fuck didn’t like it, because the darn bird was clucking in circles behind me like some trained, yet stupid, guard dog.
“Go on, git,” I rushed out over my shoulder, fisting the key harder. The rooster froze in place and craned its neck. My eyes rolled. “If brains were leather, you wouldn’t have enough to saddle a junebug.”
The rooster cocked its head to the other side. “Can’t you see I’m busy fuckin’ up your daddy’s truck?”
A low gurgling sound came from the deranged bird. I sighed. “Just—quit lookin’ at me already.”
I shook my head and finished carving into the previously pristine paint, then stood back with my chest heaving. It wasn’t enough. I turned the fob over in my hand and slid the key back inside, then set my sights onhisperfect house.
Nowthiswas gonna be fun.
Chairs. That was the first thing that burned into my irises were those damn chairs he touched me on. Then, the bedsheets, and the pillow I’d dressed up in my lingerie. A few of the glasses from his kitchen cupboard were thrown in, too. Cause, what the hell, why not?
A large shadow loomed in my periphery, followed by a horse snorting and a slight chuckle—one as gruff as its owner.
I didn’t bother facing him as he asked, “You havin’ a good time?”
“Ya know what?” I grunted as I lifted and tossed another chair into the burning pile, then put my hands on my hips and turned to Carver, his smug face more amused than pissed. I should’ve chucked the chair right at him. If only he wasn’t on his damn horse. There were lines I drew, and hurting animals was one of them. “Yeah. I’m havin’ a really fucking great time.”
The corner of his lips rose. “Well alright, then. Don’t stop on my account.” I glared back at him, and his perfectly wind-swept hair, and black fitted shirt that showed way too much definition of his physique.
When had a simple t-shirt ever been like lingerie, but on a guy?
