Page 38 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

“So…” I let the word draw out, casual as a knife flick. “You want to tell me why some masked TikTok creator sent me a transcript of you confessing you have feelings for your neighbor?”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, lips parting on a sharp inhale.

“Knox—”

“Not mad,” I cut across, gentle. Too gentle. “I told you that already, didn’t I?”

Her throat worked, like she couldn’t quite swallow.

“Then… what are you?”

I tilted my head, let a slow smile curl my mouth.

“I’m... interested. Fascinated, even, especially after you made the suggestion to me that we be neighbors with benefits and keep things casual. That was just last night, Ros. What changed?”

Her lashes fluttered, the words hitting her harder than anger would’ve. Panic was easy to fight. Interest and fascination? Those things meant she owed me an answer.

I pushed off the counter and circled closer, every step measured. My shoes were soundless against the hardwood, but I could feel each one in her pulse — the way her breath hitched higher the closer I came.

“Because the Rosalind Cooper I know doesn’t go around telling strangers she’s in love with the guy next door.

” My voice dropped, low, steady. “Especially not when he’s standing in the other room.

And that’s not even touching the fact that you’ve been quite determined to keep me at arms’ length for years now. ”

She flinched, just barely, like the memory of the Hollowing pressed in on her — the mask, the call, the way she’d bared herself to someone she thought wasn’t me.

Her silence was everything I wanted.

I let it stretch, savoring it, then took another step closer.

“Let’s talk about that phone transcript, darlin’,” I murmured.

Her lips parted like she wanted to answer, but nothing came out. Just a small, shaky breath that made her chest rise and fall too fast.

I moved closer. Slow. Deliberate. Each step a quiet press of intent across the floor until the edge of the island caught her hips as she edged back, away from my advance.

“You didn’t know I’d see it,” I said softly, like we were just two people working through a miscommunication instead of me holding the blade at her throat. “But you said it.”

Her eyes darted down, then back up, wide and frantic.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it like that,” she whispered. “It was — it wasn’t supposed to go to you?—”

“But it did,” I murmured.

I let the words sink in, low and even, while I leaned one palm on the counter beside her, bracketing her in. My other hand stayed loose at my side, like I didn’t even need it to keep her there.

“You could’ve lied to him,” I continued, voice dropping closer to her ear. “Could’ve told him whatever he wanted just to shut him up. But you didn’t. You told him the truth.”

Her lashes fluttered, throat bobbing hard.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said in a rush, voice fraying. “I was scared you’d hate me if you knew how badly I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

I let silence swallow the rest, my gaze steady on hers. I didn’t rescue her from the unfinished sentence. I made her sit in it.

“You told him, though,” I said finally. Quiet. Precise. “You told him you chose me. That you had feelings for me. That you didn’t care if I found out.”

Her breath stuttered. A tear threatened at the corner of one eye, but she blinked it back, chin trembling with the effort.

“I meant it,” she whispered. Ragged. Broken. “I just — I meant it, okay?”

I straightened, just enough to look down at her from inches away, boxing her in without laying a hand on her. Her shoulders pressed back against the island, nowhere to go, and still, she didn’t try to run.

“Then say it,” I murmured. “No games. No bullshit. Just you and me.”

Her lips parted. Her throat worked. And the words that tumbled out weren’t rehearsed, weren’t polished. They were raw, ripped straight from her ribcage.

“I have feelings for you, Knox. I care about you. I want you. After last night, I don’t think I can live without you.”

Fuck.

The sound of it wrecked me.

Christ. I’d wanted her to say it, but not like this. Not so goddamn bare, like she’d just carved herself open and offered me her heart, bloody and trembling in her hands.

I leaned in until our foreheads touched, grounding her with the simplest point of contact, even as my chest felt like it was splitting down the middle.

Her breath shuddered against my mouth, quick and fragile, and I let myself take it in — her heat, her scent, the tiny quiver in her hands as they fisted into the front of my shirt.

“I’ve wanted to hear that for a long time,” I whispered, low and steady, because anything louder might break her.

Her lashes fluttered, tears brimming but not falling, and I could feel the way she sagged just a little against me, like the weight of holding it in for so long had finally snapped. Relief poured off her in waves, like she thought this was the moment the war ended.

“No more masks,” I murmured, brushing my nose against hers. “No more pretending.”

Her breath hitched, but this time it wasn’t panic — it was hope.

God, it gutted me. Because she believed it. She believed me.

Her fingers curled tighter into my shirt, and she nodded, lips parting like she wanted to say it again, to etch the truth into the air between us until it couldn’t be taken back.

I didn’t kiss her mouth. Couldn’t. If I tasted her like this, I’d lose the last shred of control I had. Instead, I pressed a slow kiss to her temple, holding her in that fragile illusion.

“Good,” I whispered. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Her whole body exhaled at once, trembling as she let the tension bleed out of her frame. She thought I’d given her peace. Thought I’d laid my own armor down and met her where she stood.

But inside, my blood was wildfire.

Because she had no idea.

No idea the mask was still on. No idea the strings were still tangled around her wrists, pulled tight in my hands.

She’d just handed me everything, and I wasn’t about to set it free.

I didn’t want to step back. Not when she’d finally said it, not when her hands were still fisted in my shirt like she thought I was the only thing holding her upright. But if I stayed, I’d push too far. I’d give in, strip it all bare, and I couldn’t — not yet.

So I eased out of her grip, slow and gentle, and pressed one last kiss to her temple before I put space between us.

Her eyes tracked me like I was gravity itself. Hope had replaced the panic there, fragile and luminous, and it made something inside me twist sharp. She believed me. Believed this was real.

Good. Because it was.

I grabbed my jacket off the chair, sliding my arms through the sleeves, and said it low, steady: “I’ve got something I need to take care of in town.

But when I get back tonight…” I let the pause linger, just long enough for her breath to catch.

“I want to do something for you. Something that’s just ours. ”

Her lips parted, eyes wide.

“Knox — what are you talking about?”

I gave her the smile I knew would undo her — soft, private, the one I’d never given anyone else.

“You’ll see.”

I wanted to tell her everything. That the mask she thought was a stranger was me.

That her confession had landed in the only hands that would ever keep it safe.

That she didn’t have to split herself between the man she wanted and the shadow she’d bared herself to, because they were one and the same.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

So I left her with a promise instead. A night I meant to make hers, in every way I could without burning the whole game to the ground.

I scooped my keys off the counter and headed for the door. Her shoulders were still trembling, but the set of them was looser now, her expression softer. Like I’d taken some of the weight from her chest and carried it with me.

Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what she deserved.

I glanced back once, memorizing her like that — hopeful, dazed, beautiful in the aftermath of breaking herself open.

“I’ll be home for dinner,” I said, quiet but sure.

Then I walked out, already planning how the night would belong to her.