Page 104 of These White Lies

“Bigmistakes,” she mutters, and then heaves out a sigh.

“Even big mistakes.” I reach out and take one of her hands. I wait, not sure if she will answer or tell me to fuck off. It’s a gamble with Elizabeth. One that I always enjoy.

She licks her lips before squeezing her eyes shut and letting out words in a torrent as fast as the rain falling around us. “If I make mistakes, people won’t trust me, which means they won’t like me.” Her body shivers, and she rolls her shoulders. She continues speaking with her eyes still screwed tight. “I’ll be alone.”

Her voice is tiny and small, and all I want to do is haul her across the console to cuddle her in my lap. I swallow hard, pushing down the pain in my chest. I need to get my words right. I know on a cellular level that if I fumble this, she’ll close up again, with her walls higher than ever.

“I’ve seen you make a lot of mistakes, Firefly.” My voice is rough, and her eyes fly open to glare at me. “A fucking lot. One almost got you killed…” Her jaw clenches, but I don’t rush the next words. “But I still want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. Not just because you are insanely sexy and my body craves you like fucking oxygen.”

My eyes burn into hers. “But because you are the most extraordinary person, I’ve ever met. And, not because of everything you’ve accomplished, though your achievements are pretty incredible, but because you’re smart, and even when my sister was being a bitch, and I know full well you could haveripped her a new one, you didn’t. You saw she was hurting. Despite everything that’s happened to you, all the reasons you have to be sharp and hard, you’re still all heart where it matters.”

Her lips part in shock, but I keep going even though I feel like I’m literally prying my ribs open in order to hand her my heart. “I’ve never felt as comfortable or as accepted as I do with you. You don’t judge when I tell you the things that I’ve done, and I know you won’t for the things that I will inevitably do.” Her fingers twitch in my hand, and I hold fast.

“Because you and I are the same. I’m not afraid of your fire or your shine. I fucking love it. You don’t like to be vulnerable?” I bark a harsh laugh. “Trust me, the idea of someone knowing how I truly feel is terrifying. But I trust you. And I want you to trust me, too.”

“I do.” Her eyes are soft, and suddenly not touching her is no longer an option. Cupping her neck, I pull her closer to claim her mouth.

When she finally pulls back, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, she rests her forehead against mine. “I ruined Caroline’s life. I destroyed her dreams.”

I stay quiet, giving her space. It takes all of my hard-won discipline to hold back, but if I want her to trust me, I can’t corner her.

She drags in a breath. “I used to be reckless as a kid. Daredevil. Always pushing things too far, but I was still the big sister, you know? I looked after Rob and Caroline when Mom and Dad were working.” Her hand curls against her thigh. “Or I was supposed to.”

“What happened?”

“I was riding my bike too fast. Caroline was balanced on the handlebars, laughing her head off, and I—I don’t know. Maybe I hit a rock. We went flying.”

Her fingers lift, brushing her chin, and I see the faintest silver scar there, a line I hadn’t noticed before. “I got stitches. Just a few.” The hand falls to her lap. “But Caroline broke her femur. Badly. She was in the hospital for over a week. She needed surgery.” Her voice cracks on the last word, soft but unmistakable.

I watch her silently. It’s obvious she’s carried this guilt for years. I could tell her it wasn’t her fault, that kids get hurt, but I know she won’t believe me. She’d take it as pity. So, I give her what I would want. Someone strong enough to stand in it with her.

The rain keeps pounding, louder than ever, but the actual storm is inside the SUV. The air feels tight, almost claustrophobic. “You didn’t ruin her life,” I say, keeping my voice even.

Elizabeth’s head whips toward me, eyes flashing. “I did.”

“She wanted to be a dancer. She dreamed of being a prima ballerina, and I took that away from her.” A smile breaks across her face—quick, wistful. “She was good. Really, really good. A tiny little thing, but so light on her feet. Her teachers told my parents they should move so that she could train in a real salon. She wasthattalented.”

Her smile collapses. “I ruined it. Because I wasn’t careful.”

I study her. “How old was she?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?”

Elizabeth nods, chin trembling. “I was thirteen. Old enough to know better. It was my job to protect her. I shouldn’t have let her ride like that. They’d seen us do it before, and I’d promised not to let Caroline on my handlebars again.” Her voice is full of self-recrimination.

“Baby, you were a child, too.”

Her head snaps up. Defensive fire in her eyes. “No. Thirteen isn’t a child. I knew better. I knew she could get hurt, and I did it anyway.”

“Thirteen is mostdefinitelya child.”

“Not according to my parents,” she whispers. “I was reckless and didn’t think about the consequences. Caroline would never be a dancer like she dreamed.”

A ball of ice forms in my stomach. The way she recites the words in a flat tone, tells me that those were the words said to her.

I bite back the first dozen things I want to say—several about her parents.