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Irritated, I stab the “end call” button and exhale loudly in frustration, rubbing the back of my neck and slowly turning around.
It’s a nightmare. I’ve never been a liar. Technically, secrets are not lies. Technically, I only lied about being a salesperson.
Well, and—
My heart falls as I raise my eyes.
A wave of dread washes over me. Like when you drop something precious and it shatters in a matter of seconds. Or a car accident that happens too quickly.
Lu stands in the doorway, her eyes on me bigger than quarters.
Fuck, what did she hear?
“Lu?”
Which part did she walk in on?
Her mouth opens to say something, then closes, then opens again, her eyes full of confusion, which means that she heard a lot.
Her eyebrows furrow when she says, “You hate grits?”
Fuck my life.
49
LU
My reality just collapsed.
There were plenty of signs that Jace wasn’t exactly who he said he was. Becky calls them red flags. Too bad I’m an artist and love all colors.
I thought we were getting close, heading for something beyond friendship. Something much bigger that my heart still wants, but the brain says, “What else did he lie about?”
This freaking hurts.
I’m pacing back and forth across the living room. Pushkin follows me. He gives up, but I don’t.
Jace’s eyes follow me from the couch he’s sitting on.
“I feel played,” I say, lost for words.
A sniper. A bounty hunter. A virgin… The last part is irrelevant, but the rest… Oh, the rest…
“Lu, it’s not like that,” he says softly. “What are you upset about?”
I stop and turn to him. “You were deployed? In a war zone? Where? A sniper? Really?”
“It was a job, Lu. I was in the service, and I just so happened to be good at… shooting, yes. And yes, I served in a war zone.”
“Did you have to, like, kill people?” The last two words are almost a whisper.
He flinches. “Why would you want the details about something I don’t want to remember?”
“Because it’s you!” My heart bleeds for him. “Because it’s traumatic, exciting, horrible, or whatever—I don’t know, but Iwantto know, Jace! How you feel. What you were like back then. If it bothers you. If it haunts you. Can’t you see? I want to know everything about you.”
It does haunt him, I know. The evenings he goes out onto the terrace and stands there in the dark suddenly make a lot more sense. Those aren’t a poetic contemplation of the night city like mine. Those are dark memories chasing him. If he shared with me, I’d help him chase them away. I want to so badly. But he chose to hide it from me.
Jace ruffles his hair, not meeting my eyes.
