Page 80 of Cruel When He Smiles
I blink at that absolute bullshit, and Ellis beams like she’s just won the fucking lottery. Someone honestly needs to take her licence away. “That’s good, Nate. Awareness is the first step toward growth.”
I barely hear the rest of what she says because all I can focus on is Nate. His expression is contrite, his voice smooth, his words measured—but it’s all fake, I know it.
And Ellis eats it up, nodding along, clearly believing every fucking word out of Nate’s mouth, and I don’t know why, but it pisses me off.
This isn’t Nate. He doesn’t play these games, doesn’t lie like this. Nate is a fighter. He’s messy and reckless and real, and I broke that. I peeled him open, stripped him raw, made him fall apart, and I should fucking love that, I should be thriving in it, but now—
Now he’s sitting here, cool and composed, feeding Ellis bullshit with a voice so even, so controlled, that it reminds me of myself.
I don’t like this.
I don’t likehimlike this.
Ellis keeps nodding like she’s in the middle of some successful breakthrough, completely oblivious to how Nate’s eyes flicker with calculation. “That kind of self-awareness is exactly what these sessions are meant to help you with, Nate.”
Nate nods, lips pressed together, expression lined with just the right amount of regret. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I guess I didn’t realize how much I let my temper get in the way.”
My nails dig into my palms.
Bullshit.
I know what regret looks like on him. I know what self-reflection feels like, and this is fucking manufactured. He’s playing the role perfectly, sitting there like a model fucking patient, spinning some careful narrative of accountability, letting Ellis think she’s won, that this well-behaved, level-headed version of Nate is some great step toward progress.
But it’s all fake.
I feel unsettled and fucking confused. And when I feel like this, I only know one way to fix it.
I get vicious. I destroy.
So, when Ellis finally dismisses us for the last time, I don’t give Nate a chance to slip away. I don’t let him think he’s won something here. I fall into step beside him as we leave the office, matching his pace, watching the way he keeps his shoulders loose, posture still too controlled.
“That was a nice performance back there.” Nate stiffens. It’s barely there, just a fraction of tension in his shoulders, but I fucking see it. “Almost had me convinced.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at me. “Fuck off, Callahan.”
I hum, thoughtful. “See, now, that doesn’t sound very remorseful.”
Nate rolls his eyes at that. “What do you want?”
I tilt my head. “What doyouwant, Nate?”
He finally looks at me then, his green eyes dark. “Nothing from you. Not anymore, at least.”
I smile. “Liar.”
His lips press into a tight line when I step close enough to invade his space, just enough to feel the way his body reacts, just enough to remind him that no matter how much distance he tries to put between us, I’ll always be right fucking there.
“You can keep pretending, Pup,” I murmur. “But we both know what happens when you do.”
His breathing is uneven now, fists clenched, and I know he wants to hit me. He won’t, because for all his bravado, for all his control, I still own pieces of him he hasn’t figured out how to reclaim. So, I push him.
“Come on, Nate.” My voice is soft and coaxing, the same way you’d lure something dangerous closer just to see if it would bite. “You think I don’t see through you? You think I don’t know?”
I lean in a little, dropping my voice into that low register he can’t resist. “You’re playing at control, but I already took that from you, didn’t I? How does it feel, knowing I still own you?”
Nate lets out a slow breath. Then, for the first time in weeks, he smiles.
Something inside me freezes. It’s not a smirk, not something cocky or angry. It’s a look that’s so measured, it unsettles something I don’t care to feel.
