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“You can.”
“I don’t want to.” I couldn’t drag them any further into this mess, and more than anything, I didn’t want to hurt them.
“I can’t support this decision, but I’ll respect what you choose to do.” She smoothed her napkin in her lap.
“I need to keep them away from the media. Can you help me do that?”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “How? If I were in Texas, I could just unplug the internet.”
I pointed at her. “That’s not a bad idea.” I sent a text to Granddaddy to do just that.
“Stone…” she admonished, even as it appeared she understood.
“Do you think I’ve changed?”
She tilted her head. “No. You’re constant.”
“Mitch says the fame has made me forget where I come from.” The accusation still hurt. What if he was right? I spent so much time keeping stuff from them, maybe I’d forgotten what was real and what wasn’t.
“He doesn’t like being lied to.”
“And I never go home. I flaked out on Thanksgiving.” I reached for my tea, wishing it were something stronger.
“You know how to fix this.”
I chewed on a piece of ice. “No. I really don’t.” Coming clean now wouldn’t do a damn thing except maybe make my brother not think quite so little of me.
“Yes you do. Tell the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Muriella
Stone crackedthe tinted window of the truck, and cool air hit my face. When he’d asked if I wanted to take a drive, I jumped at the chance to escape the apartment. Since the conversation with his brother and then his disagreement with me, he’d been in a somber mood, and I hadn’t had a lot of luck bringing him out of it over the last few hours. It was hard to see him so unsettled.
I hooked my phone up to the sound system and fiddled with the screen until Stevie Nicks began to sing. I only knew of one way to get his mind off his problems. “This is how I feel.” My cheeks heated, though my gaze remained steady on him. “Like the room is on fire when you’re near.”
He braked as the parking garage gate rolled up and stared at me. “Me too.” He tugged on the brim of his ball cap. “Wait. You mean that in a good way, right?”
“I’m not sure sometimes,” I said quietly. “But yes, mostly in a good way.”
He drummed the steering wheel and looked at me suspiciously. “Did something happen at mass today?”
“You mean because I’m not denying my feelings?” My mouth twitched.
“I know we’re taking this slowly, but half the time I’m not sure if you like me or wish I’d go away.”
My laughter echoed through the cabin. “Neither am I. And both can be true.”
“I’m happy you feel comfortable enough to talk to me, but what’s brought this on?”
“I promised myself I’d try. We’re in a relationship,” I pretended not to notice that his eyebrows met his hairline when I said that, “and you deserve my best. Even if it came from the right place, you lied to your family. That’s made me see I’m tired of lying to myself when it comes to you.” I sagged in the seat. Admitting the truth in rapid fire was draining.
“We’re taking a drive more often,” he said as he pulled out onto the street.
“I would’ve told you no matter where we were.”
He raised a brow. “You planned on doing it upstairs?”
