Millie

Every muscle and bone in my body ached the next morning. I might as well have slept on the hard floor rather than in a nest of memory foam and eight hundred thread count sheets. Slowly, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and padded into the bathroom to freshen up before tugging on black tights and a soft, oversized sweatshirt in sapphire blue. It slid off my right shoulder, revealing a ghastly bruise that ran from the top of my arm to my elbow where I'd struck the ground after being released so suddenly. Indecision warred within me—the urge to change into something that would hide it, or the desire to avoid further pain by being forced to lift my arms over my head again.

Pain proved to be the victor, and I tugged on the neck, forcing the sweater to slope over the opposite arm. I brushed the worst of my tangles from my hair and wove the strands into a messy braid rather than its usual weekend bun because... again... arms over the head.

I pressed my fingers into the cream concealer pot and tapped the makeup underneath my eyes while staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Clothes and makeup might conceal the worst of the damage, but there was nothing to be done for what I saw in my eyes. Dull. Lifeless. Windows into a shell of a woman because who I was yesterday morning was gone. Replaced by someone who only wanted to hide and forget that not only was she a liar, but the person she trusted most in the world hadn't trusted her.

When there was nothing else to do to delay the inevitable, I left the bedroom, pausing in the doorway when the velvety sweet scent of maple and butter assaulted my nose. Last night, I couldn't imagine eating anything ever again, but my stomach growled forcefully now, overriding whatever commands my injured mind had issued. Not to mention, I never said no to breakfast food.

The scene that greeted me in the kitchen was one of strange domesticity. Anna and Lochlan fought for space in the kitchen—her tending to the eggs and him flipping pancakes on a small Blackstone grill. Alex sat on a barstool, a mug full of fragrant coffee in his hands, while his green eyes twinkled with amusement over some comment I missed.

"Oh good, you're up," Anna said, waving at me with her spatula and flinging bits of egg. One yellow bit stuck to the wall, and she winced, flicking it off just before Lochlan looked up from the pancake he'd just poured.

"Good morning," I reply, registering the shadows that formed in his eyes the moment he heard the hoarseness in my voice. I forced a smile. It felt brittle and warped.

Alex pulled out the chair beside him and patted the seat. Once I sat down, he went into the kitchen, and using his hips to bump his mother out of the way, he reached into a cabinet and pulled down a mug. When he didn't go for the coffee, I crinkled my nose in confusion that turned to dismay when I saw him fixing tea.

"No, no," I croaked. "You could tell me this smoker's voice was going to be permanent if I didn't drink tea, and I would gladly accept it. Coffee, please."

He hesitated, holding the bag above the piping hot water and looking between Anna and Lochlan. If his attempt to care for me wasn't so adorable, I might be irritated he was looking to them for direction, but even if they refused, I wouldn't drink the tea.

At Lochlan's barely perceptible nod, Alex poured out the water and refilled the cup with coffee. He put it in front of me, and creamer, sugar, and a plate of pancakes and eggs swiftly followed it. I picked up my fork first to dig into the fluffy disks. A moan escaped me when a myriad of flavors exploded on my tongue—vanilla, cinnamon, maple, and brown sugar. Lochlan froze, watching me for a suspended second before clearing his throat and flipping a pancake with a bit more force than before.

"These are fantastic," I said. "Better than the ones at the diner. Maybe the Reeds need to branch out into the restaurant business."

A pregnant pause drew my attention away from my food. Alex grinned. Anna chuckled, and Lochlan dropped his head to hide a smirk.

"Let me guess, you have restaurants."

"We do," Alex said, snagging a fresh pancake and dodging his friend's attempt to strike him. "One of the most well reviewed in the city, and we just opened one on the West Coast."

"Of course." I chewed and swallowed, coughing lightly to cover the wince of pain I could not hide fully.

"What's this?" Lochlan demanded. He turned the grill off and leaned over the quartz counter. My bruise was visible, and his fingers hovered just above the tender flesh. "You said last night you weren't hurt."

"I wasn't."

"Oh dear," Anna said, growing still as stone when she saw my arm. Alex turned off the stove and put his arm around her waist, guiding her toward the door.

"I think we better go. Mom just wanted to stay long enough to make sure you were okay." He shared a meaningful glance with Lochlan.

"Wait." I hurried over to Anna. She stared at me with tears in her eyes while Alex helped her into her coat like she was a child. There was a glazed gleam I'd missed earlier. "I wanted to tell you... no matter how yesterday ended...I really enjoyed my time with you."

Her hands shook as she lifted them to cup my face. She peered into my eyes until it was almost uncomfortable. I did not pull away, and at last, she drew me into a warm embrace, her hand smoothing down my hair as she squeezed me tight.

"It was a delightful day," she agreed. Alex smiled tightly at me, keeping his hand on his mother's back. Anna paused and looked over her shoulder. "I'll see you both soon."

Lochlan kissed her cheek and slapped Alex on the shoulder. He stared at the door for a long time after it closed. I shuffled back to my seat, picked up my fork, raised a bite to my lips, and tried not to keep sneaking appreciative glances at the man. Wounded and miserable was not enough to stop me from acknowledging how delicious his back muscles were beneath that white t-shirt.

At last, he turned to face me. The air was thick with tension, and I remembered how he'd looked last night after Marcus kissed me. I forced that from my mind. I didn't want to think about Marcus right now. Maybe never again. As soon as I figured a way out of this mess, I was taking my chances and disappearing. No more lies. No more cons. No more hurting people—especially the ones I was coming to care about far more than I should.

"Off, now," Lochlan barked.

"Excuse me?"

He pushed my plate to the side and drew me out of my chair. His fingers curled into the hem of my shirt, and he tugged upward. "Your shirt. Off. Now."