Page 164 of The Next Lie

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

I lift the bar towels. “Housekeeping.”

“Shiloh…”

Behind her, Deacon emerges with his usual irritating calm, though not quite as untouchable as he would like us to believe. His shirt is buttoned wrong at the throat. His hair is disordered. There is a red mark high on his cheek that looks very much like Reva’s hand.

Interesting.

Nash notices the mark too. His gaze drops once to Deacon’s face, then to Reva, then to the room behind them.

“My desk?” he asks.

Reva turns crimson.

Deacon says, “Sturdy. Five stars.”

Nash’s expression does not change but a vein throbs in his forehead. I very nearly break.

Cal takes one long drink of coffee, then lowers the mug. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Nash rubs a hand along his jaw and eyes up Deacon. “So I guess you’ll need a room at the house now too.”

Deacon turns his attention to him. For the first time since he stepped into the hall, the humor thins.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “I’ll sleep in Reva’s room.”

Cal makes a strangled sound.

Reva points at Deacon. “Not unless I say you can; excuse me.”

Deacon’s eyes stay on Nash. “But I would appreciate space.”

The solemnity in his tone lands differently. Nash stills, and Ever straightens from his lean against the wall. I stop smiling.

At his hip, Deacon rubs the fingers of one hand together almost unconsciously, then tightens them into a loose fist before releasing them. “Mother Superior knows.”

The hallway goes quiet.

Reva’s blush drains fast enough to make me want to step toward her, but I don’t. Nash is closer, and Ever has already shifted half a step her way, reaching a hand out to grasp hers. They’ve got her.

Cal watches Deacon with a hard, unfamiliar expression.

“Knows what?” Reva asks.

Deacon looks at her, his pointed silence answering before he speaks.

Her throat works. “Me.”

“She’s behind all the attempts.”

Nash’s voice turns flat. “How sure are you?”

“I spoke with her last night after taking Delia home.” Deacon continues before she can grab onto that thread. “Mother Superior referred to Reva as ‘the surviving Hart problem.’”

Cal swears under his breath.

Reva’s fingers curl into fists. “What does she want?”