Page 61 of Ly to Me

When I wasn’t forcing those thoughts in, my mind wandered to the good memories—his arm draped over my waist, holding me after a terrible night. Flashes of us in the shower together that I couldn’t quite remember all of. The way each of the times he’d fucked into me, save for the one the day before, he’d soughtmy pleasure, not his own. He gave me space, made me food—

“Fucking hell, Lyra. Get your shit together. He’s using you to get his money, too.” I nodded, as if ending all of my internal battles with the finite one—he needed the money, too. He was just as desperate to own his facility as I was to start the life I wanted, and for some reason, his parents put it all into a contract that forced him to be married first. His additional stipulations were just as he was—monstrous and unneeded.

You hate Carver Roland. You hate Carver Roland. YouhateCarver Roland.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, steadying my rapidly thudding heart as I heard him start to dress in the room.

Hatred was easy. Using my looks to get my way was easy, too.

Meshing them together between Carver Rolandshouldbe easy.

He stepped into the room, buttoning a shirt over his defined abdomen. I fought to keep my gaze steady, making sure it wouldn’t fall to his unbuttoned jeans or the boots he picked—the same light shade of leather as mine. He finished buttoning his black shirt and smirked at me as I watched him zip his jeans, remaining silent, but also sure my cheeks spoke for me.

Fucking tattoos and barbells.

“Where are we goin’?”

“Do you remember”—his side pressed into the wall as he leaned and started cuffing his sleeve, revealing the butterfly—“the bar my parents owned?”

I bit down on my lip and nodded, fighting against another unwanted sensation—sympathy. His blue eyes homed in on my lip as he continued rolling his other sleeve. “New owner started a dance night. Once a month, I think it is.”

“I see.” Carver pushed off the wall and strode up to the key rack, taking an older set of keys from the hook. My attention snapped to the window as my nose scrunched. “I didn’t clean up the inside,” I admitted.

He pushed a hand into his pocket. “Two things, sweetheart.” I braced myself for the crazy as I stood and crossed my arms. “One—I don’t expect you to clean it. The only reason I haven’t hauled it off to the junkyard is because if you decide you need to let out more anger, I prefer you not burnin’ our house down.”Our house? Surely that wasn’t what I heard. My arms dropped to my sides, and he continued, “Two—I have another truck. That one was just to haul Bee’s trailer, so I think any apologizin’ or worryin’ over it should be directed at her. She does like being taken to the occasional trail or two out of town, and now, she’ll have to wait until I get a new one.”

“Oh.”

He stretched his hand out, and I stared back at him, dumbfounded by the gesture. He usually just…took. “We’re gonna be late. I’m sorry I took so long in there, but I got a bit dirty today. Leo was out sick.”Leo?

“Doesn't Jamie do that, too?”

“Jamie isn’t supposed to touch what he doesn’t know. The growing is all me, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

His brow arched. “I didn’t know how much you got out of him, but clearly, nothing on the positive end. For my sake, at least.” He stepped up and gently took my hand in his, apparently tired of waiting for me to do the same. When he pulled me to him and kissed my forehead, the butterflies that had long since died came bursting back to life. “I’ll take you for a tour soon, if you’d like.”

He tried to turn, but stopped and looked between us. My fingers were digging into his shirt, keeping him close. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern etched from the faint creases by his eyes to the tense posture he held.

“Why are you bein’ nice to me? Why give me your card, and take me out, and—”

His hand reached up to cup my cheek, then swept back to my ear, fastening a few locks behind it before tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know how to handle you comin’ back, but now, I do.” His lips ghosted over mine as if he was holding back. When he pulled away, his fingers slipped back into mine, then he was tugging me past the front door.

The world seemed to spin as we walked to a side of the house I hadn’t seen yet. His voice funneled through the ringing in my ears like smooth water on a clear day. “Stay put.” He ran around the large garage, and moments later, the doors opened. With his arms stretched wide, his lips spread from ear-to-ear. “Now, I know you rememberthis.”

“I…” I flushed a deep red color, making the green of my dress turn me into Christmas morning.

He tapped the hood of the older Ford pickup. “Glad I didn’t leave the garage open, or you’d’ve probably destroyed this one. Can’t have you going and ruinin’ the more precious things.”

“Your dad’s truck,” I said with feigned indifference, like that was the extent of what it was, though we both knew it wasn’t just his dad’s truck. But the alternative to knowing why he’d kept it for so long was making me see double.

“Yeah.” His grin faltered, and any self-proclaimed embodiment of Christmas I’d had crashed to the ground.

“We goin’ to get this over with, then?” I started walking to the passenger door, turning my chin away from him as I tried to pass by.

Key word: tried.

He gripped my wrist and yanked me to him, then quickly wrapped his other hand around my throat. “Remember to be good, Ly. You’re supposed to be mylovingwife.” His growl rumbled through my chest.