A Single Glance (Irresistible Attraction #1)(42)

“I know. We could tell she was lying to us, so we sent her away.”

“That’s what you know of my sister?” Shame and sadness lace her words.

“That’s the only time I met her,” I answer her and her gaze narrows, as if she can see through my truth to the lies I just told her moments ago. But this is the truth.

“I don’t know who she was buying it for, or if it has anything to do with why she was killed.”

I’ve lost a piece of her in this moment. I don’t know how, but I did.

“Don’t judge me, Beth. I’m the one who will pay for this.”

She stares up at me, but she doesn’t say a word. Still assessing everything I said, or maybe trying to see her sister as she was in her last days.

“You’ve got to calm down.”

“I don’t just calm down,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself and I think she’s done, but she tells me a story. “I was a preemie when I was born, and I almost died. My mother told me she thought it was God punishing her. She hadn’t wanted my sister; she almost gave her up. Not that she was a bad person,” she adds, quick to defend her mother. “She didn’t think she’d be a good mom to her, and had broken up with my father just before she found out she was pregnant. She came very close to giving her up, but my father came back around and wanted to try to make things work. And then a few years later, they wanted to have me. And she told me she’d thought God was going to take me away. My lungs didn’t work and the hospital couldn’t do anything, so they put me in a helicopter and sent me away to a hospital that could save me. My mom couldn’t come at first, because she lost a lot of blood.

“My grandfather used to say I came into this world fighting and I never stopped. He told me once, ‘You’ll leave this world fighting, Bethy. And I’ll still be so proud of you.’” Tears cloud her eyes, but she doesn’t shed them. Not my fiery girl; she holds on to every bit of her pain.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, rubbing her arm and then holding her when she falls into my chest.

“I’m sorry I’m a bitch,” she tells me, sniffing away the last evidence that she may have been on the verge of crying. “I don’t know why I’m always ready to fight. I just am.”

“It’s okay, I already told you that.”

“Why is it that when you say that, it feels like it really is?” The way she looks up at me in this moment is like I’m her hero. It’s nothing but another lie.

“Because I’ll do everything I can to make sure it is okay, maybe that’s why?”

She sniffs once more and takes a step back to the counter as she says, “I should leave.”

“I want you here. I don’t want you to leave tonight.”

“Why?” she asks. “Why do you want me to stay?”

“Do you really want to go to bed alone?”

“No,” she whispers.

A moment passes between us. The look she gave me a moment ago is coming back.

“Jase, promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t hurt me.”

I lie to her again, knowing that I hurt everyone I touch. Knowing I’ve already hurt her, although the truth of that hasn’t revealed itself yet. “I won’t hurt you,” I tell her. I would have told her anything. Just to get her to stay.





Bethany





One thing the kids at the hospital do all the time is lie. They lie about taking their medication. They lie about their symptoms. They lie for all sorts of reasons all the time.

It’s my job to know when they’re lying. I can’t save them if I don’t know the truth.

When Jase looked me in the eyes hours ago, he lied to me.

I don’t know what piece of the conversation contained the lie. I don’t know how much was a lie. I don’t know why.

But I know he lied to me. And I can’t let it go. The nagging thought won’t let me sleep. He fucking lied to me. I put it all out there, allowed myself to be raw and vulnerable. My imperfect, broken, bitchy self. And he lied to my face. The worst part is that I’m sure it had to do with my sister.

That’s what hurts the most.

Every minute that passed after seeing that look on his face when he lied, every minute I thought of how I could get it out of him. How I needed to get it out of him. How I was failing Jenny by letting it happen. How I was failing myself.

I’m careful as I slip off the sheet. I haven’t slept at all, but he has. His breathing is even, and I listen to it as I gently climb out of the bed. My body is motionless when I stand up, listening to his inhales and exhales.

I already have my excuse ready in case he wakes. I never got that Advil, after all.

Every footstep is gentle as I move to the dresser, opening a drawer as silently as I can. The first drawer proves useless and as I shut it, Jase breathes in deeper, the pace of his breathing changing. I stand as still as I can, holding my own breath and praying he falls back asleep.

And he does. That steady, even breathing comes back.

With the rush of adrenaline fueling me, I move to his nightstand quietly, slowly, wondering if I’ve lost my fucking mind. I’m so close to him that he could reach out and grab me if he woke up. I watch his chest rise and fall as I open the drawer. The sound of it opening is soft, but noticeable. All the while, Jase sleeps.