Page 23 of Faded Gray Lines

He didn’t react to my taunt like I thought he would. On the contrary, he angled his nose between my earlobe and the top of my jaw, tracing a line down to my chin. “Still believing there are only shades of black and white? Didn’t what happened prove to you there’s an entire gray area between the two? Your moral codes and government laws won’t save you here. You’ve stepped over the line and crossed into my world. Welcome to the den of depravity, little lamb.”

I shivered at his touch and his words. “Has this always been your world?”

Without warning, he dipped his nose into my neck and inhaled hard. “You still smell like a meadow,” he groaned. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to smell wildflowers and have your cock and your heart ache at the same time. You broke me, Star.”

His admission gutted me, and although I wanted to hold onto my anger, I couldn’t. Just as I started to tell him I’d been in irreparable pieces for four years, he released his hold on me and turned around.

Shocked, I watched as he reached for the door. “You’re just leaving me?”

He paused but never looked over his shoulder. “I want to see if it’s as easy for me as it was for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me or what happened.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he said quietly. “I trusted the person I thought I knew.”

“Well, I trusted everyone,” I seethed, betrayals I’d sworn to never speak of again filling my head. “I’ll never make that mistake again.”

That got his attention, and he twisted at the waist, the earlier heat in his eyes now dull. “You have no choice, Miss Harcourt. You’ve gotten yourself into a mess I have to clean up. From where I’m standing, I’m the only one you can trust.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Interesting. You don’t want me to call you Star or Leighton or Miss Harcourt. I’d call youmi amor, but that term was used out of affection, and we both know that’s long gone. However, I’m sure there are a few names more fitting to your behavior I could come up with if you prefer.”

“Don’t you dare get self-righteous with me, Matty,” I warned, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You want to talk about trust and promises, but you didn’t show up that night, and you never looked for me. Why?”

I waited. For vindication. For healing. For an answer to the question that kept me awake night after night. Instead, he ignored me and turned to leave.

Something in me snapped.

“Answer me, damn it!” Grabbing the metal soap dispenser next to the faucet, I hurled it across the room. It slammed into the door inches from his head, denting the wood and crashing to the floor.

“My name is Mateo,” he said, staring at the pink ooze spilling from the cracked top in the dispenser. “And life is sacrifice, Leighton. Let this be a lesson—the only person you should ever trust is yourself.” Kicking the dispenser out of the way, he flung the door open and slammed it behind him.

With the weight of our confrontation hitting me, I slumped backward, sitting on the edge of the sink again. Balling my fists, I pressed them against my eyes and let the tears fall. The more I cried, the more I shook.

Damn him. Just...damn him.

When I got in my car yesterday, I planned for Brody’s reaction when I eventually told him about my deceit. I planned for my family to eventually hate me when they learned of all the sins I’d committed in the name of love. I planned for a life of continually looking over my shoulder, wondering when the Carrera Cartel would take their revenge on me. Not once did I plan on the only man I’d ever given my heart to showing up after four years and blowing everything to hell.

We were supposed to be the perfect love story. Instead, we ended up a tragedy that broke every rule.

I touched the path his thumb had traced down my cheek and closed my eyes. Broken rules and tragedies had done nothing to dull my ache for him. The heat between us burned as strong as ever, and the strength in his touch proved it. Whatever we had was still there, buried under a debt of secrets.

Dad was right. The eyes were the window to the soul. And despite what his mouth said, my Matty’s soul still shone through the faded gray line he’d left behind at our railroad trestle.

Eight

Mateo

SeeingStar again fucked with my head so much, I finished my conversation with Brody and hit an Irish pub three blocks from RVC Enterprises.

Leighton. Star. What-the-fuck-ever.

“Another one, bartender.” Sliding the empty glass across the scratched wood, I watched it tumble onto its side and roll toward the edge. I would’ve been happy to hear it shatter on the floor, but a pair of red painted nails caught it and held it up like a trophy.

“That’s four in the last fifteen minutes, honey. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

I tried ignoring her, but she kept standing there. Obviously, she wasn’t going to move until I answered her, which was a stupid move on her part. The more I drank, the higher the tab.