Cheater (Curious Liaisons #1)(80)

What the hell was that?

The minute they were gone, Brooke moved closer, her chest heaving. “Admit it, you’re using her.”

“I’m not using her,” I said in a tired voice. “I love her, not you, not Kayla. I love Avery.”

“She’s a child!” Brooke burst out laughing. “You forget you stumbled into my bedroom, my bed!” She thrust her chin up in the air.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE AVERY!” I shouted.

Brooke stumbled backward. “What did you say?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I thought you were Avery.”

“But—”

“Brooke, I say this as a friend—get your shit together. Nobody likes this type of drama, and you’re way too old to be stirring things up.”

She hung her head as a tear streamed down her cheek. “I know. You’re r-right.”

Damn it, why did I always have to make women cry?

“Don’t cry.”

She collapsed against my chest in a sob.

I patted her back but refused to hug her.

Because I didn’t trust her.

Which proved to be accurate when she glanced up at me through fake lashes and gripped my face, then pressed her mouth to mine.

“Oh!” Molly’s voice jerked us apart. “Sorry, wrong room, right, Avery?”

Avery’s eyes zeroed in on the both of us.

I was aware how bad it looked.

How guilty I looked.

Brooke slapped me across the face. “How dare you kiss me? Avery, I’m so sorry, it just—”

Avery stomped up to her sister, drew back a fist, and before I could stop her knocked Brooke on her ass. Then she reached for her sister’s hair and pulled.





Chapter Forty-Two


AVERY

I didn’t want to believe that my older sister was capable of that kind of evil, but from the look in her eyes after I punched her in the face—I should have.

Her glare was venomous, eyes watering, as she poked me in the chest with her finger and spit out, “You’re no different from the rest of them.”

“Don’t make me punch you again, Brooke. There are some things even our friend Thatch can’t fix.”

“You really are a stupid child, aren’t you?” she snorted. “Look at him!” All eyes went to Lucas, who was staring at me with his jaw firmly clenched, muscles flexing in his cheeks like he was trying not to say something—or maybe just trying not to help me beat the crap out of my own sister.

I sighed in Brooke’s direction. “All I see is the man I love.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable, like I’d just stripped myself bare in front of the only person capable of hurting me—even when the track record pointed to all signs of doom.

“He can’t help it, Avery.” Brooke sighed. “Once a cheater, always a cheater. You think you’re different. You’re just like every other woman who’s tried to trap Lucas Thorn.”

“Well, you should know, Brooke. Get out of this room before I push you out the window,” I hissed.

She raised her hands in the air. “You trust him, and yet he still hasn’t canceled any of his appointments for next week. Ask Molly—they’re still on for Monday.” Her attention went to Lucas. “It’s his MO. A dinner, a movie, they laugh and go back to her place for wild, crazy sex. He never kisses her mouth, and he promises to call but only does the day before they’re going to meet again. Lucas Thorn is a cheater, and you’ve just been duped.”

My heart sank.

Because Lucas had convinced me otherwise.

Because he’d told me to focus on today. Because I’d agreed to focus on a day at a time.

And blindly ignored the simple fact that he’d never promised commitment, never said we were exclusive.

I’d been given a few days with him.

So had the rest of them.

Brooke walked out, and tears slid down my cheeks.



Lucas’s arms wrapped around my body. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head no.

He bit out a curse and kissed the top of my head. Why did being in his arms have to feel so right? It felt like forever. And yet, even when Brooke had unleashed her tirade . . .

He’d said nothing.

“Tell me the truth, Thorn,” I whispered. “Have you canceled all of your weekly dates?”

He stopped rubbing my back.

“Lucas Thorn.” I whispered his name like the rest of them, with psychotic desire. And it hit me.

They full-named him.

Because that’s what you did for those who are unreachable.

You put them on a pedestal because it’s the only way to handle the inevitable.

If he was “Lucas Thorn,” then it made sense that eventually he’d tire of me.

If he was just “Lucas,” or just “Thorn,” he was a person, reachable.

“Avery, I haven’t talked to them yet, but I will, I swear.”

I closed my eyes against the angry tears. “You haven’t talked to them . . . yet?”

“Avery”—he sighed—“look at me.”

I pulled back, afraid of what I’d see reflected in his eyes. But they were clear as day. There was no confusion or guilt, which was what I’d come to expect from Lucas: he had always been solid, incapable of feeling anything for one single person.