Tell Me a Truth: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 13

  “Atta girl. Working hard already!” Lance got out two plates and coughed again, making Decker stir from his spot.

  “Oh. I’ve got plans I just remembered,” Decker jolted lamely, making me roll my eyes. He sauntered off toward his bedroom, giving me a simmering look in the process.

  “That was weird,” I mumbled to myself before sitting down at the kitchen table as Lance served dinner. He looked like a domestic goddess, wearing an apron and floral oven mitts.

  “In the interest of honesty, I asked him to give us time tonight,” Lance said with a shrug before sitting down and removing the mitts from his hands, plopping them on the table. “Decker is my brother, but I’ve been using him as a buffer between us.”

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise at the candidness of Lance’s words. “I’m not saying he won’t be around, but I think it’s time you and I actually bonded without me leaning on him. I’m always leaning on him.”

  “From what he’s told me, it sounds like it’s the other way around,” I said before scooping a portion of the casserole onto my plate.

  Lance paused and shot his blue eyes up at me before straightening the fork at his place setting. “He told you that? About the…home invasion?” Lance asked incredulously. “He never tells anyone.”

  Shit. “I was asking about you. I wanted to know more about your friendship. I kind of pressured him into telling me.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie but wasn’t the full truth either. Lance relaxed.

  “See? This is why I wanted to have dinner alone with you. We keep using other people to connect, and it’s not working. Decker…our mom…” Lance let the words linger between us before speaking again. “I don’t want any more stories about her. I want to know more about you.”

  “Okay, what would you like to know?” This felt wrong, somehow. Like my truths had only been reserved for Decker. But Lance was right, we’d been using everything we could to hide, and it was time to finally lay it all out.

  “Do you like it here?” Lance asked. It wasn’t the ice-breaking question I’d expected, but I welcomed the easy topic.

  “Yes. It’s nice. I feel…safe here. Memphis is beautiful,” I admitted before shoving a fork full of steaming food into my mouth. It singed my tongue, and I eagerly took a drink of iced tea Lance pushed in front of me.

  “Did you not feel safe back in Texas?” Lance prodded.

  “No. Not really.” My words turned my tongue to ash.

  “I’m sorry, Blakely,” Lance murmured.

  “It’s not your fault,” I offered with a shrug. “And you turned up when I needed you most. This is a fresh start for me. Admittedly, I’m relieved that you don’t want to know more about Mama. It’s hard for me to talk about her, but I’m terrified that if we focus on me, you won’t like what you find out.”

  Lance leaned forward on the table, propping his elbows up as he spoke. “Blakely,” he said, and I averted my eyes. I wasn’t expecting to have such a hard-hitting conversation right after my episode with Rose. “You’re my sister. There’s nothing that can change that,” Lance said in exasperation.

  But didn’t he get it? That’s not what I wanted. I was chained to my own mother my entire life. I didn’t love her. Hell, I think I hated her. I didn’t want Lance to feel obligated to build a relationship with me based on blood. Rose’s words were still ringing in my mind. This blood was mine.

  “I don’t want you to feel chained to me because of a missed opportunity. I don’t want you to feel obligated to bond with me because somehow we share sister sequences of the same DNA. I want us to be close because we like one another. Because we add value to one another’s lives. The shared blood pumping through our veins should only be a tiny percentage of the equation. And I don’t ever want anyone to feel obligated to be in my life because of something they can’t control—and we can’t control that we are related.”

  My speech felt stilted and didn’t truly dive into the depths of my feelings about this. Maybe I was projecting my issues about Mama on Lance, but it didn’t change the end result. We were virtual strangers, and just because we found each other didn’t mean we had to stay in each other’s lives. Maybe I was self-destructive, and that’s why it was important to me that I push this truth, lay it out on the table between us like it was a decadent feast. But I did.

  “I understand,” Lance replied solemnly. “But you have to understand that as someone who has been denied family, that beautiful and unique sequence of DNA is significant to me. Even if I don’t like you, I want to know you. But if we both find that this sibling relationship isn’t compatible, I’ll happily let you go and live your life. But you have to give me the chance to figure that out on my own.”

  He was right. I had a lifetime to decide that I was relieved when Mama died. Family wasn’t as much of a blood connection as it was a decision. My resistance was taking that decision away from Lance. My insecurities were affecting the possibilities of a relationship with my brother. “I promise to give you a chance. A real chance. Not one littered with fake truths about our egg donor. And if you decide this isn’t working, I just want you to be honest with me. I didn’t feel like I could be honest with her. The guilt from her cancer ate me up inside. How can you hate a dying woman?”

  “Stop beating yourself up,” Lance offered with a shrug before eating a bite of food, wincing when it scalded his mouth. I watched in amusement as he grabbed his glass of iced water and guzzled it down. “Shit, how can you eat that?”

  “I’m starving,” I answered with a wave of my hand. Lance’s eyes flickered to the bandage wrapped around my palm.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  I glanced at it. “Oh, this? Nothing. Rose decided she wanted to do a blood ritual, so I let her cut me.”

  Lance blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Yeah, your boss is insane.”

  “You know? I actually am starting to like her. Don’t tell Decker that.”

  Lance laughed with an eye roll. “He does always have to be right, yeah? Drives me crazy.”

  “It’s worse at school,” I gritted.

  Lance took another bite of food, making sure to blow on his fork for a good minute before plopping it into his mouth. And then he spoke with his mouth open, breathing out steam like a fiery dragon. “Guess you weren’t planning on having two brothers when you moved here, huh?” he joked before swallowing his food with a gulp.

  My stomach twisted. I did not view Decker as a brother. I saw him like this unattainable force that drew me in. Something I knew was terrible for me but couldn’t avoid all the same. But if Lance wanted to establish the boundary and make it clear that the only affection between us should be brotherly, then I’d roll with the punches. “Yeah. I went from having no one to two overprotective brothers. I can’t wait to bring a guy home. He’s going to shit his pants.”

  Lance had a twinkle in his eyes like I’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Did you meet anyone at school?” he asked.

  “I met someone named Maximillian. He’s cute and sweet. He asked for my number,” I offered with a shrug, forgoing the fact that I only viewed him as a friend. He was too sweet. Too nice. Too easygoing. I was attracted, sure. Good looking people were just that—good looking. Maybe it was Mama’s influence that attracted me to the things I shouldn’t want or the things I couldn’t have. I loved a bit of danger. I liked my relationships toxic and out of reach.

  “You should bring him over sometime. We can invite your dad, too, just to really terrify him,” Lance offered, making me snort.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  And then we ate our food. We joked. We bonded.

  And I decided that Lance Trask was an exceptional person to share blood with.

  14

  Blakely

  Memphis Academy for Math and Science had a large, sprawling cafeteria. You would think that the heart of the campus would be the library, considering the caliber of its students. But like every other typical high school in the country, the cafeteria was whe
re you could find the pulse.

  My first day, I spent most of lunch hiding in the library, sulking over the fact that I kept getting looks of pity from my teachers and some of the students. However, Maximillian didn’t let me escape today. He’s been following me around, and the moment the bell rang for lunch, he grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me into the social circle of hell.

  We sat at a table in the far corner near a large window that gave us the vantage of the entire cafeteria. I observed natural selection in its prime. Students segregated themselves based on interests, looks, and intelligence. I couldn’t help but wonder where I fit in.

  Shifting in my seat, I let Max plop a straw in my Coke as he mentioned it was better for my teeth. A few students that I recognized from my classes sat with us, as well as a couple of guys I’d never seen before. It seemed I’d made a lot of friends fairly quickly, which was shocking considering I hadn’t really spoken to anyone. At my old school, I kept to myself and struggled to make meaningful connections; here it seemed people flocked to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the rumors or Maximillian.

  Maximillian boasted that he was in every club imaginable. He wanted to run for class president, too. He was well liked, well known, and well acquainted with most of the female population. It didn’t take me long to find out that Max liked to date. A lot. The jealous stares tossed my way by prep-school geniuses were a dime a dozen. A hot future scientist was in high demand, apparently.

  “You’re from Texas, right?” a mousy voice asked. I turned to my right to stare at a girl with long blonde hair and dark, bushy eyebrows. She had a timid way about her, with downcast eyes and a button nose. I remembered that her name was Taylor, and I wanted to say she was in my class with Decker—I mean Mr. Harris—but I wasn’t for sure. I liked her the most because she was quiet.

  “Yep,” I said with a pop. “Lived there my whole life.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned the other way to stare at Maximillian. He was clutching me close in an awkward side hug that forced my chest to concave. Maximillian’s thigh pressed against mine, making my skin heat up from the friction. I felt nothing though. My heart felt like it was on a lag, too busy wading through Decker Harris to appreciate the feel of this pretty-boy’s undivided attention.

  “I, for one, am happy Blakely moved from Texas,” Maximillian announced with a boyish grin.

  “I bet you are,” a dark-skinned boy snickered while wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Why did you move here?” Taylor asked. She was a nosey one, that was certain. Taylor seemed chronically inquisitive and a bit abrasive. I stared at her as she picked up the salad on her plate, intently picking up zero-calorie shreds of lettuce and dipping it into her vinaigrette. There was no cheese on her salad, nor any croutons. Just a bunch of healthy shit carefully proportioned to decorate her plate. Taylor seemed like a perfectionist, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  I stumbled through my answer for a moment, remembering Rose’s advice. “My mother died.” My admission was like cement being poured across the table. “I found out I had a brother and moved out here to stay with him. It’s been different, but I like it,” I explained with ease, surprised how freeing it was to own my story and spit it out for the curious onlookers.

  Taylor’s eyes widened, but there wasn’t actually any shock in her expression. Something told me that she’d already heard the rumors about my existence but wanted clarity from the source. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said in a lower voice before reaching out to place her tiny hand over mine.

  The corner of my mouth picked up as Maximillian squeezed me tighter. Something about this entire interaction made it feel like it was more about them than it was about me. I once knew a man that would say giving comfort was more enjoyable than receiving it, and as I stared around the table at the sympathetic faces, I realized that he was onto something. I kind of wanted to steal a little comfort back.

  “Don’t be. Mama was kind of a bitch,” I said with a shrug while reveling in the shocked expressions that crossed my table-mates’ faces. Maximillian let out a short laugh.

  “I’m starting to realize you don’t say what I expect you to,” he said gruffly before removing his hand from my shoulder and picking up half of his sandwich to shove it into his mouth. I watched in awe, mostly because he didn’t appear to actually chew his food, just pushed it down his throat.

  “I’m starting to think it’s fun to be unpredictable,” I replied. My little bit of socialization was already starting to drain me, so I distracted myself by pulling out my homework from last night to read over it once more. Around me, people still talked as I worked through a couple of problems I was unsure about.

  “That reaction is wrong,” Taylor’s voice rang out. Once again, I turned to her, taking in the fierce expression on her face and the way she was gnawing on her lip. “It’s kind of a trick question. May I?” she asked, gesturing for my homework.

  Some people were prideful about knowing it all, but that wasn’t me. I welcomed critique. I welcomed being wrong. It just meant that I had more to learn.

  After I nodded in approval, she started scribbling on my paper. My eyes watched her lead pencil drag violently across my work. She explained why the reaction was wrong and helped me work through the compound before making a minor adjustment on another problem. “Thanks,” I said with a genuine smile. This was something I could bond with someone over.

  “No problem. If you need a study partner, let me know.”

  “Taylor just wants an excuse to go to your house. We’ve all heard that you live with Mr. Harris,” a guy at the far end of the table said. He had bright red hair that looked like it had to come out of a bottle, and thick reading glasses covered most of his face. I glanced over at Taylor, who blushed profusely.

  “Shut up, Buick,” she growled.

  “Hey, can’t blame her. Decker is pretty hot,” I replied with a shrug. I felt like the best way to combat the sad looks and rumors was to spearhead their narrative with a story of my own. It’s the only way to survive. “He’s got a six-pack under those perfectly tailored suits.”

  I laughed to myself, then glanced around the table at everyone, noting the blush on Taylor’s cheeks, the cringe on Maximillian’s face, and the chuckle hidden behind Buick’s palm.

  “Miss Stewart,” a gruff voice said at my back. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I could feel its tone in my bones.

  Decker fucking Harris. I couldn’t escape him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  I spun around in my seat with a smile plastered on my face. “Hey there, Decker. Did you want to have lunch?” I offered. “Or did I leave something in your car again?”

  His lips dipped into a scowl that I felt in my knees. Weak. He made me weak.

  “Blakely, can we speak for a moment?” he asked before straightening his face into something that resembled professionalism as he took in the audience we had. I could feel their gossip hitting my ears like nails pounding their assumptions into the coffin of my social standing. Oddly, I didn’t care anymore.

  “Sure,” I replied with a smile before squeezing Maximillian’s hand and standing up, abandoning my lunch on the table. I wasn’t hungry anyway. Talking about my dead mother dampened my appetite.

  I followed behind Decker, watching his long legs take steady strides through the hallways where loitering students watched us. I winked at a couple staring unabashedly just to fuck with them. I felt like Rose, no longer mourning and hiding, owning up to my shit while calling people out. I wanted my new life to be the perfection I was denied growing up, but maybe newness could feel more like me instead.

  Down, down, down we went, toward his classroom at the end of the hall, secluded from the world. Decker held the door open for me, and I followed him inside before sitting up on the desk and rocking my feet back and forth beneath me. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Why are you talking about my six-pack abs to students?” he asked.

&nb
sp; “Why were you in the cafeteria? Why did you tell everyone about my mother?”

  “Why are you still hung up on that?” he scrubbed his hands down his face while pacing the floors. He didn’t have to speak out loud for me to know that he felt this was a mistake—one colossal mistake. He shouldn’t have ever encouraged me to attend school here.

  “I’m not. Actually, I’m kind of enjoying the openness. You think we should tell people we made out on a Ferris wheel, next?” I offered with a giggle, not expecting Decker to storm toward me with his hand up, placing a finger over my lips like a punishing kiss.

  I mumbled against his skin as he hissed at me. “Do not say that!” As I rolled my eyes, he pulled away but stood near, positioned between my legs where nothing but plaid skirt and lace panties separated us.

  Oh. And the school.

  And Lance.

  And our age difference.

  And my jaded past, his asshole demeanor, and our complete and total incompatibility.

  Guess there was more than inches separating us.

  Our breath might have mixed in a cocktail tornado of air, but there might as well have been worlds between us. “I’m not stupid. I won’t tell people I dry humped your cock in public, Decker,” I whispered while watching his eyes grow heavy and hooded.

  “Your mouth is going to be the death of me,” he whispered before dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. My tongue snaked out to taste it. Coffee. He tasted like coffee.

  “What a way to go, am I right?” I replied with a shrug before pulling away, resting my hands on the desk and pushing my chest out while tilting my head to the side to observe him.

  “I was headed to the cafeteria to let you know that Lance got called to a meeting with the hotel owners in Louisiana. He won’t be home tonight.”

  My heart raced. The implications of secrecy were painting heat along my thighs. But I kept my breathing steady. “Okay. And?” I asked, choking on my lust like the traitorous bastard it was.