Page 74 of Cruel When He Smiles

His jaw locks. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? That he smiled? That you didn’t know because no one owed you the truth?”

That hits. I see it in the way he flinches. He looks away, his breathing shallow now. My voice softens, but I don’t let go of the weight behind it.

“You already gave yourself to me today. Don’t cheapen it by acting like a kicked dog because someone else moved on.”

He turns his face back toward me—wounded, defiant. “It’s not about Sage moving on. It’s that I didn’t matter enough to be told.”

I nod. “And that hurts. I get it. But don’t give them more power by falling apart in front of them.”

His lip trembles. “Then what the fuck do I do?”

“You go home, you take a long shower. You sit on your bed and drink the water I know you haven’t had enough of today. And then you text me.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I’m giving you structure, Pup. I’m telling you what to do,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I helped you earlier, don’t you want me to help you again?”

Nate looks at me, and I know I’ve already gotten through to him. He’s stubborn, so he’ll fight my words, but the submission wins out in the end.

“Okay,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’ll go. I’ll text.”

“Good boy.”

His throat works around the praise like it hurts. But his eyes—god, those gorgeous green eyes—they soften when I say it. He lets go of the air trapped in his chest and squeezes my hand once before stepping back, grabbing his phone off the counter, and heading for the front door without saying goodbye to anyone.

Killian peeks in from the sliding door, watching him go. He raises a brow at me, but I don’t respond. Instead, I sit there and wait.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzes.

Pup: Home. Drank water. Shower next.

I smile before setting my phone facedown on the table.

Good boy.

Nate

Sagedidn’teventhinkI’d care. I cared more than anyone ever did.

And he still chose the guy who had made him feel like shit for months.

I lie on my bed, thinking about everything that happened today, with that familiar voice inside my head whispering the same thing it always does.

You’re easy to leave.

Even by the people who swore they never would.

The courtyard’s mostly empty this time of the afternoon. Just wind, sun, and that hollow pressure behind my ribs that hasn’t let up since I walked away from Sage after I blew up at him. I stormed off like I had somewhere to be, but I’ve just been circling campus for twenty minutes, too wired to sit and too pissed off to go home.

I should’ve gone back to the frat. Locked myself in. Blasted music or worked out until I collapsed. Instead, I’m here, pacing the path behind the English building, dragging my fingers through my hair like that’ll help untangle the mess behind my eyes.

He fucking lied, and not in a harmless, forgettable way. No, he lied purposefully. Looked me in the eye and told me I had nothing to worry about while he was busy letting Luca wrap himself around him like a victory.

I end up near the back edge of campus—where the newer buildings bleed into the old stone ones, where ivy strangles the brick, and where the benches are barely used. Where it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like a ghost. I want that right now. I want to disappear into it. Maybe if I sit long enough, my chest will stop feeling like it’s been torn open and scrubbed raw.

I drop down onto the concrete step outside the old media building, arms resting on my knees, head bowed low. Wind stings the corners of my eyes. Or maybe it’s not the wind.