Page 63 of Pretty Lies

TWELVE

CORY RESTED THE three brown paper bags of groceries onto Della’s counter. Without as much as a there you go in her direction, he spun on his boot heels and headed out of the kitchen. Like he intended to leave—probably to go back outside and sit in his car. The same thing he’d been doing all week. Ever since the breakfast with her father the morning after her run-in with Luis.

Nonetheless, it seemed like Cory had been … off since that day. Definitely avoiding her, she’d noticed. Considering he made every effort to keep a distance while at the same time making sure she stayed home as much as possible.

Today was an exception.

Only because Della was about to lose her shit. Entirely. One could only stay hidden away behind four walls for so long when they were used to being out and about before everything went bad. She’d tried to play by the rules as much as she could. Jennika was handling work—Della did her best not to say anything about that. She hadn’t seen her brother or father all week, either.

Della hadn’t realized when Cory said he’d be sticking closer, it also meant that she would be on lockdown in her place. Not to mention no one was telling her anything. Not her brother, father, and even Jennika refused to meet up for something like an innocent, quiet lunch because everyone didn’t dare breathe the wrong way.

Or some nonsense. That’s what it felt like.

Della knew everybody was just trying to … handle the issue. Keep her safe. Or that’s what she assumed because it was hard to tell when she wasn’t doing anything and everyone was telling her exactly that, too—nothing.

Maybe she didn’t do well with no control. Yeah, that was probably it.

So, that morning she decided to just head out. Not to work or cause trouble. No, she simply needed to get the hell out of her house, do something for herself, and breathe. Cory hadn’t exactly been happy about it, but he clearly hadn’t seen an issue when he let her go and followed behind like he was supposed to. It should have been a good day.

Back home after getting a new, red stiletto manicure, a blowout, and some groceries … except Cory was currently making it hard to be happy. Or rather, maybe it was starting to get to her.

Cory’s silence, that was. And his fucking mood. Whatever that was about.

“Thanks, I guess,” she called at Cory’s back as he moved to leave her kitchen.

His next step hesitated. He shot a dark look over his shoulder, that sharp jaw of his tensing when he asked her, “What, are you not done running around the city for the day, or …?”

Ouch.

She didn’t miss the attitude there.

Della wanted to pretend like Cory’s hot and cold demeanor didn’t bother her, but that would be a terrible fucking lie on her part. She shouldn’t be feeling anything for this man at all, but more often than not, that’s exactly what she found herself doing.

Feeling too much.

When he wasn’t looking, she did.

When he was silent, she wanted to ask why.

Except for all those strange urges she had regarding him were made more difficult to contain because all he’d done for the week was keep a distance and that damned attitude. Not that it should make a difference in the first place.

He clearly got what he wanted, right?

Seemed like it.

Della wasn’t perfect—she knew it. Stubborn, picky, controlling and a pest when she wanted to be. But she actually tried not to be that bad when it came to Cory because she did understand he was only doing his job even when he pointed out fifteen times that she was supposed to be at home—today alone.

Now, she was just done.

Over it.

“You know what,” Della told him with a wave of her new manicured nails, “never mind. See you later.”

Cory didn’t move. “Excuse me—you’re dismissing me, really?”

“Not like—”

“Nah, I get it, Della. Don’t bother explaining.”