Page 54 of Where Love Lies

“Thank you for going along with—” I wave my hand toward the door. He steps beside me, putting his plate in the sink. “Why don’t you want him to know we met? Did he not want you to?”

My nostrils flare, and I rest my hand on the counter, my nails picking at the granite.

“Well…” he takes a deep breath, “he’s smart, trying to keep you all to himself.”

“I guess,” I mutter. He turns, facing me.

“Maybe it’s just me, but you look like you’re more afraid than in love with your boyfriend…or rather fiancé?”

My head snaps up, eyes wide. Embarrassment heating my ears, I fumble for a response, completely dumbstruck.

Reaching forward, he brushes his thumb along my cheek bone, the same side Heston hit me, and I jerk away.

“No, I just—” I have no idea what to say. Is he referring to me flinching or has seen or heard us fighting? Not wanting to say one thing and it be the other, I walk away. Large fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me. I spin toward him and freeze, his moss green eyes pinning me in place. With our chests inches from one another, we stare into each other’s eyes, my stomach fills with butterflies, like it used to do with Heston. The feeling is both exciting and arousing. “By the way—no cherry pie. Do apple.”

My brows furrow. “Why?”

“Because the apple is forbidden.” My breath hitches. Jerking my hand from his, I go back outside, sliding into my seat beside Heston. He reaches for my hand, tangling it in his, but I can’t feel it over the tingling Rhodes left behind. Leaning in, Heston whispers, “Everything okay?” His grip on my hand tightens, and it takes everything in me not to react to the pain.

“I’m fine,” I grit, looking straight ahead, acting as if Heston isn’t hurting me under the table.

Fighting through the pain, knowing bruises will form by tomorrow, I grab his fingers with my other hand and dig my nails into them. He shoves me away, the table rocking, and my breath hitches in my throat, scared everyone saw what just happened. Glancing around, the only one who staring is Rhodes. His brows furrow and his rocky mountain green eyes pin me where I sit. He definitely knows Heston and me are not okay.

As we walk back across the street, the sun is resting on the horizon. I’m over wanting to talk like a rational adult with Heston. After what he just pulled, I’m ready to fight the asshole. No more putting off this conversation. It has to happen now because I’m done; I can’t do this anymore. “Heston, I need to talk to you. Now!” I demand, shaking my sore hand as if the pain will just fall off from him hurting me.

Walking ahead of me, he doesn’t respond. He’s ignoring me, acting as if whatever I have to say is of no importance to him. As soon as we’re both in the house, I slam the door behind me.

“Things have been different—I feel different.” I press my hand to my chest, making myself calm down, ensuring I speak rationally. I don’t want to be by myself, but having him here, without us being the way we were, is the coldest isolation.

“What are you trying to say?” His brows inch inward, his jaw tensing. “Wait—are you breaking up with me?” His question is sharp, making me feel small.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you put your fucking hands on me and my kid!” I finally shout.

“But we went over that and made up. You accepted my apology, Rain. Why are you bringing this up again? Do you not get enough attention? Is that it?”

My mouth opens, then closes. How the fuck is he turning this on me?

“I acknowledged you were sorry and felt bad, that doesn’t mean it was forgotten.”

“It does. You fuck up, you say sorry, you move on!” he yells back. Warm tears slip down my cheeks. My hand covers my mouth to hide my quivering bottom lip. He might be right, but I don’t feel the same about him, not like I did before he put his hands on Paige and started hurting me.

“We aren’t working out anymore, Heston,” I finally say, “This isn’t us, we bring the ugly out of each other and we’re to the point of hating one another.

“You hate me? Is that what you’re saying?” He raises a brow, waiting for me to respond, a challenge in his voice. I don’t reply, I’m too scared to do so.

“I sold my place! I have nowhere to live! You want me to sleep on the couch?” he sneers. My eyes fill with tears, I’m never going to get this man out of my life, am I? Grabbing his keys off the counter, I throw them at him as hard as I can.

“No, you can sleep in your truck!” I seethe hysterically. I’m trapped. Like a sheep shut in with a wolf, I have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

27

Heston slept on the couch last night, despite me telling him to go to his tuck, and we haven’t spoken today. I feel like a stranger in my own house. I should have called the cops—I should have ended it then and there. There is no saving this.

In my pottery room, I count the pieces I have finished, nervous I won’t have enough to fill a booth. I need variety, more colors and sizes. I tap my chin, contemplating. A knock at the door has my head snapping in its direction.

Paige stands in the doorway with worry lining her forehead, her phone clasped in her hands.

“Hey, everything okay?” I ask.

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