Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths (Ugly Truths #1)

16. Archer

16

Archer

A fter that first night when Maggie fell asleep in my arms, the next few days pass by far too quickly.

As if sensing the urgency, the ticking down of the clock to when this all comes crashing down, we spend every moment together, barely even leaving the room, taking turns exploring each other’s bodies.

We take breaks to eat or shower together—where she surprises me by dropping to her knees and trying to suck out my soul through my cock—but most of our time is spent talking and getting to know each other on a deeper level.

She tells me about Jane and how she got sick, how scared she felt, how afraid she is every time she relapses, fearing it will progressively get worse. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been on her to take on the role of caregiver at such a young age, but my Rose is strong and has the most generous heart of anyone I know .

She asks me more questions about my childhood. I tell her about growing up with Jayce, how we used to go on hunting trips with my stepdad before he passed, how my brother cried the first time he shot a deer.

I don’t mention my sister—or my mother, for that matter, although for a whole different reason—and if she notices, she doesn’t comment on it, which I’m grateful for.

I also don’t bring up my more recent past, and she still doesn’t ask. I know we will have to discuss it at some point, but I think for now, we are both too afraid to cross that bridge. Everything feels too new, too raw right now, and I think we both fear what will happen next.

There is a somber mood in the car on our drive back to her apartment.

I reach across the console, taking her small hand in mine, my thumb stroking over the reddened areas from where she has been picking at the skin around her nails.

I know she’s afraid I’m going to drop her off and disappear—because she told me as much—and if I was a better man, that’s exactly what I would do. Yes, it would hurt for a while, but she is young and would eventually move on.

I meant what I told her: she would be better off without me in her life, but now that I have held her in my arms, touched her, tasted her, I know I’m never letting her go. She might not realize it just yet, but she is mine. Mine to worship. Mine to protect. Just mine .

Pulling up to the curb in front of her apartment, I cut the engine, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before getting out and grabbing her bags from the back .

When we get to the door, I give her the new keys and the security code to the alarm system—all of which I already have copies of—and show her how to turn it off and on.

She turns back to me, her face falling when she realizes I am not following her.

“You're not coming in,” she states, and I shake my head.

I want to. God, how I want to, but I need to go into work. Jayce has been singlehandedly managing the bar this past week in my absence, and I really need to step up and pull my weight. If I go inside with her now, I will find myself getting lost in Maggie and never leave.

Plus, I know she wants to check in with Jane.

“No. I need to go into work. I’m falling behind on paperwork because someone has kept me a little distracted,” I say teasingly, my hands circling her waist.

She bites down on her plump lip, and the sight makes me want to say fuck it and stay right here.

“Sorry,” she says, looking down at the ground. “I’ll…let you go then.” She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold.

“Hey. What’s this about?” I ask, using the pad of my finger to trace the adorable pout she sports. “Baby, look at me.” I tip her chin up, catching her watery gaze. “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to figure out where her head is at.

“I don’t know. I’m being stupid. It’s just that…this feels like goodbye.”

“You can’t rid of me that easy. You’re mine now, Little Rose,” I say, nipping her on the nose. “I plan on keeping you.”

Her brows rise as shock colors her face, and I wonder if this is when I fuck it all up, reveal too much, and send her running for the hills. I’m relieved, however, when her face lights up and she throws herself into my arms.

Her legs come up to wrap around my waist, and I kiss her thoroughly, my tongue tangling with hers. I’m about to carry her into her house when something brushes up against my leg.

“What the…?” I pull back, glancing down to see a ball of wiry black fluff darting in and out between my legs.

“Mr. Darcy!” Maggie exclaims, wiggling out of my hold and bending down to stroke the ugliest creature I have ever laid eyes on.

“Is that cat—missing part of its ear?”

Maggie looks up still running her fingers through the animal’s shaggy fur, and for a split second, I find myself jealous of a damn cat.

“Archer, meet Mr. Darcy.” She stands, wiping her hands on her pants. “I’m surprised. He looks so much healthier than before I left. He’s never let me pet him like that before. Someone else must have been caring for him while I was gone,” she says, her whole face lighting up like the sun. I make a mental note to thank Jayce for taking care of the cat while she was with me. If I had known it would have made her this happy, I would have just brought the damn thing home.

Needing one last taste before I leave, I grab her by her nape and haul her mouth to mine. “I gotta go,” I say, pulling back. “Do me a favor and lock the doors when you go in, ok?”

She nods, turning to walk inside. I wait until I hear the lock click before getting in my car and heading to the bar.

Once there, I bury myself in work, my mood souring with each hour so that by the time Jayce busts into my office with some problem involving the catering company, I am ready to snap someone’s head off.

Apparently, Carolina—the mayor’s oh-so-charming wife—had a difference of opinion with the caterer we normally use for our larger formal events, leaving us to scramble to find a suitable replacement.

As he sits there droning on about possible replacements, I begin to lose my patience. I honestly couldn’t give two shits about this event. We host it every year, and I fucking hate it. The mayor has got to be pushing eighty, and his wife—who is at least half his age—tries to fuck everything that moves. I shudder as I think about last year, when she tried to force her way into my office.

After the third time I snap at him, I can tell he has had enough.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he barks, tossing a folder down on the low table in front of the sofa.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, so not in the mood to get into it right now.

Unfortunately, he’s not letting it go .

Crossing one leg over his knee, he leans back into the sofa as he continues to stare me down.

If there’s one thing I both love and hate about my brother, it’s that he is as stubborn as a damn mule. God help whatever woman attracts his attention, because he is one tenacious motherfucker.

Though he can be a real pain in my ass, it was that same persistence that led him to find me, pull me back from the ledge, and force me to get my life straight, to keep going despite my guilt. Even though there were many times I resented him, I’m grateful he never gave up on me.

“Oh—really? Cause right now, you’re being an asshole,” he says, calling me out, “and I’m sorry, but after everything I’ve done for you lately, I don’t deserve that shit.”

I run my hands through my hair.

He’s right. I know he’s right. He has been the one to keep this place running while I have been otherwise—preoccupied . He doesn’t deserve my attitude.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I—took Maggie back home today, and I guess it’s messing with my head.” A shit eating grin creeps across his face. “Don’t even start…” I warn.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he says, holding his hands up.

“So that’s a thing then—you and her?”

I nod, and the fucker’s face lights up like I just told him I was getting married instead of sort of dating someone .

“Good for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just… I have this bad feeling, like I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks.

“She still doesn’t know who I am. I’ve never told her about my past, the things I have done. Hell, she doesn’t even remember the night we first met.”

“Wait—what do you mean?” he asks, sitting up straight as he uncrosses his legs.

I open my desk drawer, pulling out the skull face hood I was wearing that first night, rubbing the soft knit fabric between my thumb and forefinger.

I never told him the whole truth about that first night Maggie was attacked—whether from my own guilt or fear of his disapproval at my loss of control, I’m not sure.

When I think about how bad that could have gone, how I could have been disposing of two bodies instead of just one, it makes me physically ill. I was distracted that night, mesmerized by her, and I dropped my guard—only for a second, but long enough for her to come at me.

The sedative I brought was enough to take down a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man. It’s a miracle I didn’t kill her. Memories of that night race in, all the panic and fear I felt.

She was so limp and pale in my arms, she appeared dead. After I thoroughly scrubbed away any trace of blood from her skin and disposed of her soiled clothes, I kept vigil at her bedside all night, not daring to leave until she started to stir.

“That night at the bookstore, I was wearing that,” I say, tossing my hood at him. He snatches it out of the air one-handed, his brows knitting together briefly before recognition sets is. “She never saw my face.”

“What about when you took her home? You never took it off?” I shake my head.

Shame coats the back of my throat at the look of horror that flashes across his face as I recount the full details of everything that happened that night.

He whistles low under his breath once I finish. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” I croak, my voice thick.

Knowing I could have lost Maggie before I ever even knew her, that my actions could have resulted in the end of her life, only reminds me how truly unworthy of her I am.

“Fuck, man. So she doesn’t remember anything? It seems unlikely. I would think killing a man would be pretty hard to forget.” I shrug.

“I don’t know. If she does remember, she’s never let on. Memory loss is not uncommon with what I gave her, and it was a heavy dose for her weight.”

“You know you have to tell her—right?”

“Archer…” he continues when I don’t respond. “You must tell her. Not only because she deserves to know the truth, but also because that means she has been attacked on two different occasions. That’s not a coincidence, and you fucking know it. She needs to know for her own safety. If someone knows about what she did, they could be after her for the murder. If so, you know they will come for her again. ”

He gives me an exasperated look like I’m an idiot, and it makes me want to punch him in his face. The fact that I never even considered that as a possibility proves just how off my game I’ve been. Could it really be that simple? All just an act of revenge?

What if Ian being there that night wasn’t planned but opportunistic? He saw something he wanted and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. If someone knew his whereabouts and put two and two together, could they be after Maggie for his murder?

My chest tightens, and it’s difficult to take a full breath. What if I’ve been looking in the wrong direction this whole time?

I’ve been so busy getting lost in her, I have been distracted from seeing the bigger picture. If something were to happen to her because of my negligence, I would never be able to live with myself.

This whole conversation has set me on edge. Filled with a sudden deep sense of urgency to be close to Maggie, I start gathering my things.

“Enough.” My voice comes out high and tight. “I have to go. I don’t care who you go with for the catering, just get it done.” I stand abruptly, rushing out of the office, leaving a stunned Jayce in my wake.

I barrel through the bar, pushing past customers on my way out the door.

Once in my car, I open the app I installed on my phone that allows me to track Maggie’s location, relieved to see she’s still inside her apartment.

Unwilling to put any extra distance between us, I decide not to make the drive back to the coast, instead opting to stay at my new apartment—which just so happens to be located across the street from hers.

I unlock my door, tossing my keys on the kitchen island, my footsteps echoing loudly through the mostly empty space as I pace the parquet floors. My body feels restless, jittery, like I have downed five shots of espresso. I decide to go for a run, hoping it will help burn off some of this extra energy, but even after pushing myself until my legs damn near gave out, I still can’t shake this feeling of impending doom.

The sun has long set by the time I give up and give in to this irrational need to lay eyes on her, to touch her and know she’s okay.

All the lights are off when I let myself into Maggie’s apartment.

She is already in bed, curled up on her side, her face relaxed in sleep.

Now that I have seen her, I should leave, but I don’t.

I’m not sure how long I stand there like that, watching her sleep. Long enough that I eventually kick off my shoes and strip down to just my briefs before crawling into her tiny bed behind her.

I half expect her to scream or startle awake, but she just lets out a sweet sigh, fully relaxing her body into mine, and that knot in my chest finally unwinds. Here, in my arms, is where she belongs, and I will make damn sure nothing and no one takes her from me.