Sweet Liar (Candy #2)(2)

After a moment, a figure emerged from the shadow of the trees. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark wavy hair. The butterfly held his attention too. His gaze went right to it, as if he expected it to be there waiting for him. Swatches of orange flashed in the distance as the butterfly flew with determination toward the man from the woods. Soon it landed on his shoulder like it belonged there.

The man looked at the butterfly, smiling and admiring it. Then he looked at me.

It felt like a jolt of electricity had struck me. Soft hazel eyes captured mine. Unable to move, I was held in place by an unexpected pull. His eyes called to me across the field, asking me to come to him just like the butterfly had.

I wanted to go. The pull was strong, but something stopped me. A tiny kernel of fear in my belly made me take a step back instead. When he saw my hesitation, his expression fell and confusion creased his brow.

I had no explanation for my fear, but it strengthened and my palms turned moist. I took another step back and saw his eyes harden at my rejection, narrowing with menace.

Disconcerted, I tore my gaze from his and returned my attention to the butterfly still perched on his shoulder. But I wasn’t entranced by its beauty any longer. Instead, I felt deceived. It was never mine to admire. It was his, and my heart squeezed at the loss of something so fragile and perfect.

Pulling in a deep breath, I did the only thing that made sense. I turned and ran.





The sounds around me gradually captured my attention as my mind came alert while my body held still. Without opening my eyes, I registered that I was lying on a bed that felt like my own, and my head and hip hurt like hell. My heart pulsed erratically as I listened to the voices around me.

A stranger’s voice said, “We should take her with us.”

“She doesn’t like hospitals. She’d rather stay here.”

I tried not to react when I recognized Jonah’s voice. He was still here.

My chest ached with each shallow breath I took, but my mind was clear, and I was fully aware of what had happened before I ended up in this bed as I listened to their conversation. What struck me most was that Jonah’s voice sounded normal, not filled with the tension or panic I’d expect if his father were hurt or even worse.

But I’d shot his father. I knew I did.

When the voices moved out of the room and continued down the hall, I opened my eyes to find I was in my bedroom and it was still dark out. I heard the front door open and close as people left.

As I levered myself onto my elbows, Jonah came back into the room again and stopped abruptly.

“You’re awake.” He stared at me, his face a mask of exhaustion and uncertainty. “How are you feeling?”

Staring back, I wondered why he was talking to me like the world hadn’t been flipped upside down.

When I didn’t answer, he filled the silence. “The paramedics just left. They said you fainted. You took a hard fall too, so you may want to take it easy for a while.” He walked toward the bed and looked down at me.

I scoffed because I didn’t fall; Jonah had barreled into me. And I wasn’t a fainter—I’d never fainted in my life. Although I’d never shot anyone before either. If I really had fainted, that didn’t bode well for my future career as an assassin.

My head pounded and everything I wanted to say tumbled around inside my brain, so tangled up that I was still trying to form a coherent sentence when Jonah frowned at me and said, “You only grazed his side. My father is going to be okay.”

My heart skipped erratically at this news, but I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

Jonah watched me closely, looking for a reaction, and I wondered what he expected to see. I schooled my expression, trying hard not to let him see anything as the implications of this news sent my blood racing. If his father wasn’t dead, what happened to my father?

Panic that had been forming for weeks licked at my heels. I’d known something was coming—something terrible. I’d known it since my father had the security system installed in our house. We’d been speeding toward this outcome ever since, but I had no idea Jonah would be a part of it, or that the person I’d built into the bogeyman from a nightmare would turn out to be his father.

Red-hot betrayal burned inside me as I looked into Jonah’s inexplicably calm face, and I hated the fact that I was lower than him, lying in bed, subjugated by my position. But I doubted I could make much of a stand with the way I was feeling at the moment.

“What about my father?” My voice sounded scratchy and foreign to my ears.

“He’s fine,” Jonah said quietly.

“Where is he?”

Jonah hesitated. “He isn’t here.”

I figured my father wasn’t here anymore. I wasn’t an idiot. Did Jonah think I was? The truth was, I didn’t know what he thought.

His face was smooth, drained of emotion and consequently cold in its lack of feeling. His features were familiar, the square jaw, the straight nose, and hazel eyes with a jagged pink scar rimming the right one, dragging it down. But the person behind that face was a stranger to me, one I was meeting for the first time.

As I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my brain seemed to shift inside my head. Wincing, I lifted my hand to feel the small bump on the back of my skull.

Concern flickered in Jonah’s eyes. He leaned toward me and reached out, but his hand stopped midway and returned to his side.