Page 154 of The Next Lie

“Try not to break my desk.”

My mouth falls open. Nash leaves, closing the door softly and deliberately behind him. Deacon’s gaze has not left me.

The office feels too quiet now. Too contained. Shelves lining the walls. Heavy concrete walls. Nash’s desk between us, dark and metal and suddenly much more alive than any piece of furniture should be.

I point at Deacon with the crumpled letter. “You do not get to…court me…with the same handwriting you used to haunt me.”

His expression changes. “Court you.”

“That is what this is.”

“Okay, fine.”

My hand drops. I was prepared for denial. I was not prepared for okay, fine.

“You are a piece of work.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“This isn’t romantic.”

“No.”

“It’s fucking manipulative.”

“Possibly.”

“Stop agreeing with me.”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, eyes glinting. “No.”

I make a furious sound and step toward him. “You broke something in me. Do you understand that? I had this one safe space. Those letters. This one person who didn’t have any connection to the closet, didn’t have a stake in my past. And that was you. Ash.”

His jaw tightens. Finally.

“It was the only way I knew how to be a part of your life…and yet remain on the outside of things.”

“You don’t get points for effort.”

“I am not asking for points.”

“What are you asking for?”

“You.”

The word is too simple. Too much.

I laugh once, sharp enough to hurt. “No.”

“Yes.”

I force another laugh. “Just like that, huh? You said it, therefore that’s how it’s going to be? No, Deacon. You don’t get to write a few letters and bite my lip in a garden and decide this is happening.”

“I decided long before the garden.”

My face goes hot. That’s worse.

He steps away from the bookshelves and comes toward me. Slow. Measured. Like he has no doubt I’ll either give or hold my ground, and it doesn’t make much difference which…the result will be the same either way.