Page 112 of Burning Daylight

Nope. He ends up in prison. Another cautionary tale, just like his much more intelligent friend warned him.

Trouble:

Tough crowd.

Conjugal visits?

I grin.

The couch cushion dips beside me, a heavy silence hitting the air.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Lance’s voice cuts through my emotions, and my grin drops, my heart hammering as I slide my phone underneath my thigh.

I blink at him, shocked to see him home.

His hazel gaze takes in mine with concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

His question snaps me out of my daze, and I roll my eyes with an audible huff. “Oh, now you care?”

He sits back and flinches like my words were a physical attack.

“Come on, Jules.” He runs his hands over his face, and I don’t miss that the knuckles are split open and scabbed. Worry lights up my middle, but I push it back down. “Don’t be a bitch to me.”

“You know, why is that always the default insult for women?”

“I don’t?—”

“You…” I point a finger at him, glaring. “Are an asshole. I’m mad at you.”

His entire face drops, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his wavy, black hair ghosting across his eye when he hangs his head. A muscle in his jaw tics.

“And you know what?” I continue. “Maybe you deserve for me to be a bitch to you. Has that thought ever crossed your mind, Lance? Or have you been too busy ignoring me to care?”

He clears his throat, his face drawn like I’ve pummeled him. LikeI’mthe bad guy here.

“California really did a number on you, huh?” he murmurs after a few quiet seconds.

Now,thatpisses me off, and I shoot to a stand. I’m so mad it feels like I could spit fire. I’m not even surewhyI’m so angry, other than the fact that nothing feels like it’s been in my control since coming back.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s this fucking family that’s pissing me off?” I hiss. “Maybe it’s onlyyouI’m being a bitch to.”

I shove a finger in his face, and he grits his teeth, his gaze growing dark. “Get your finger out of my face, Juliette, or I swear to God.”

His voice is cold as ice, and so low I barely hear him say it. He’s always had that dangerous quality to him, but he’s never used itagainstme. It’s always been to protect me. Having it flipped is jarring.

I drop my hand and let out a slow breath. “What happened to you?”

His jaw clenches, and he looks away from me, but there’s something about him that screams of sadness, and it douses my anger, just a little.

Sighing, I plop back down on the couch and stare at him. “Do you know you used to be the only person I could say anything to? Now look at us.”

“You still can,” he claims, turning his head to face me again. The iciness in his gaze has disappeared entirely, leaving behind the soft warmth that I’ve known my whole life.

“I’ve been home for weeks now, Lance.” I try to keep the hurt from my voice, but it cracks anyway. “Where have you been?”

His mouth opens and closes. He runs his fingers through his hair, making the silver chain around his neck rustle and gleam under the living room lights.

I put up my palm. “You know what? I don’t even care at this point. But you don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can chit-chat like old times.Youdon’t deserve to know why I’m in a bad mood.”