Page 51 of Liar Byrd
More Massey locals have ventured out onto the streets, and their stares follow me back to my truck. No one asks me what I’m doing, who I was running toward, and why I’m holding an unconscious girl in my arms.
No one says a damn word.
They just watch.
Douglas is cleaning up the bag of spoiled groceries with a black trash bag, a long-handled dustpan, and a brush. His eyes flick to me, then away again.
His lips flatten, but he doesn’t say a word as I pass him on my way to my truck.
I nod at him, and he looks away.
This town is a powder keg waiting to go up, and I have no intention of being the one who sets fire to the match that explodes it, but one day, someone will.
I carefully slide Jessica into my passenger seat, buckle up her seatbelt, and try not to notice how thin her arms are. She’s beautiful, but so damn fragile, I feel like I’ll break her if I’m not gentle with her.
Giving Nance’s car a quick glance, I walk around to the driver’s side of my truck and get in. I’ll have Makhi get it, ormaybe Lydia can drive Nance down in her car to pick it up. Even if Jessica left a key in the ignition, no one would take it.
They like to treat everyone from the house as if we’re lepers, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why Lydia is leaving, not because she wants to start a family. Because she’s had enough of being stared at.
I start the engine, buckle up, and then begin the drive back out of town, releasing a quiet sigh of relief to be away from the stares and the tension.
Jessica is stirring as I approach the gates. I pretend I don't notice her breathing change or her leaning on the door to distance herself from me.
Chapter 18
Byrdie
My eyelids flutter open.
I smell him first.
Raw. Strong. Masculine.
The car I’m in is moving, but the seats are too low for it to be Nance’s sedan. I’m in a truck, I think, from the height of the seat.
Moving slowly, I press against my passenger door, as much as my seatbelt will let me, and I try to remember how I got from Nance’s car and into Vonn’s. Why is Vonn even in town when the last time I saw him was at the house?
“How much do you remember?” Vonn’s drawl gets my heart galloping.
Suddenly, all I can focus on is the size of his hands as they grip the steering wheel.
He’s waiting for an answer, idiot.
I swallow to get rid of the dryness in my throat and order myself to act like I’m from this planet. “I went to collect groceries,” I whisper.
Out of the corner of my eye, he nods, aiming what he must think is a reassuring smile my way.
I know all about smiles. About how much they lie and how much they conceal.
I hate them.
I turn my face so I see as little of him as I can.
Because that smile—hissmile—is dangerous.
It made me feel warm before, and I can’t trust him.
I can’t trust anyone.
