Page 165 of Untouchable

Caleb hadn’t expectedit to hurt as much as it did.

He’d thought nothing could hurt as much as when he’d discovered Kelly’s real identity. He’d stupidly believed that was as bad as a betrayal could be.

He’d been wrong though. This was even worse. Not only had Kelly lied to and manipulated him, deceiving him in the most intimate way, but he’d actually started to believe that she’d grown to want him—to have feelings for him—in spite of herself. He’d started to believe that her feelings were real even if nothing else about her was.

But he was wrong. All of it had been a lie, even the way she’d seemed so emotionally torn with him lately. She couldn’t really have feelings for him, not if she was screwing another man.

And that hurt even more than the first betrayal.

He’d never experienced anything like it. Not even when Mallory died. Then, the trauma and devastation had been spread out over more than a year, and so he was empty and numb at the end of it. But this loss was all at once and full of more anger and shock and pain than he’d believed himself capable of experiencing.

And all of it slammed over him like a tidal wave as he stared at Kelly, who had just spit out those words as if they were the deepest expression of her heart.

“You killed him,” she repeated, now in a hoarse whisper. Her hair was hanging down all around her like a tangled veil. Her face was dead white, and her eyes were like bleeding wounds. “You killed my father, and he was innocent. He was nothing but good all his life. And you’re mad at me because you think I fucked someone else? You think that would be anything close to what you’ve done to me?”

Caleb couldn’t move. His emotions were churning with too much strength. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just stood like a statue trying to process the feelings.

He was helpless in the face of them. He couldn’t even name them.

“You don’t get to be angry with me for anything. You don’t get to hold a grudge against anyone else. Not after what you’ve done.”

Caleb still couldn’t consciously decide what to do. He didn’t think he was capable of saying anything at all, but then he heard words come out of his mouth. “I didn’t kill your father.”

“You hired someone, but that’s a distinction that means absolutely nothing. You’re as guilty as if you pulled the trigger.”

And that hurt too. So much he had to close his eyes against her expression.

She believed it.

He’d fallen for her like a boy. He’d believed she really loved him. And then, even after he’d found out the real truth about her, his feelings still kept pulling him toward foolish, impossible ideas.

She didn’t seem to be lying all the time. She appeared to mean most of what she said to him. No matter how hard he tried to be cold, he still couldn’t believe she was faking everything.The afternoon they’d gone hiking had felt so palpablyreal,even as he’d been trying to break her. In the end he hadn’t been able to bring himself to intentionally hurt her anyway.

So he’d talked himself into believing she had feelings for him after all. That no matter what game she was playing, it simply wasn’t working the way she wanted. Maybe she loved him despite her best efforts.

But now he knew she couldn’t love him. Not really. Not if she believed he was capable of cold-bloodedly murdering an innocent man.

“I didn’t kill him,” he said again, his voice a little clearer, although he didn’t know how he’d managed it. “I didn’t arrange it. I didn’t know anything about it until afterward.”

“You expect me to believe that? I have evidence. I have concrete evidence that leaves no doubt. You expect me to believe some story you make up now?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” It was a lie. He did care. But he didn’t want to, and saying so was the first step to making it true. “You’ve done nothing but lie to me, so I don’t owe you the truth in this or in anything else. But I didn’t kill him. You were wrong from the very beginning.”

For the first time something cracked on her face, like his words or tone or expression had gotten through the intensity of her anger. “I’m not wrong.” She rubbed her face like she was trying to wake herself up. “I saw proof. I saw the letter Vinnie wrote your dad, naming you.”

He knew what letter she was talking about. It was the one piece of evidence that he’d not been able to get his hands on. His dad had kept it as insurance against both him and Vinnie, as a weapon to be used in case they ever decided to do something with the evidence he had against them.

He’d thought once his father had died, the letter had been lost. Out of context it would mean almost nothing anyway.

But he’d been wrong about that too. He’d been wrong about everything that mattered.

A strange sort of calm was suddenly taking him over, like the torrent of emotion was slowly freezing into chilly stillness. He was conscious of blinking twice. Then saying, “The letter is only one part of the story. You don’t know the rest of it.”

“Then tell me.” She wrapped her arms around her belly and hugged herself. She looked small and desperate and sadder than anything he’d ever seen. “Tell me the rest of it. Please.”

“You’ll have to come with me.”

He didn’t know why he was even suggesting it. He didn’t want anything to do with her. Ever again. Not after all the ways she’d betrayed him. But he was suddenly trapped in a tragedy whose plot and spoken lines had been written out almost two decades ago.