Page 97 of Heat Lightning

I’d dreamed of this moment. Seeing his face for the first time was supposed to be special; something he chose to share with me in private. Something between just us two.

His full, pink lips were familiar, and so were his bright blue eyes and angular nose. The cheekbones were new, along with the way his dark, full eyebrows and prominent brow bone cast his face in harsh shadow. He had a full head of dark, tousled hair pushed away from his face.

Even in the harsh porch light, he was beautiful. Captivating. Arresting.

Just hours before, this man had said he loved me.

And still, before the night was even over, he’d chosen to reject me, only to seek out more suppressants instead of bonding with me after I’d begged him to.

He’d chosen to lie to me. Not just about who he was, but about… about… everything.

Everything. My whole world.

Enzo ran up to him, babbling a hundred miles a minute and hugged his knees.

“Enz,” Atlas said, bending down to return his embrace. “I missed you. What on Earth are you doing here this early, bub?”

“I’m so sorry,” Mr. Marino said, hand gripping his hair in panic. “He woke up itchy, and I realized I left his EpiPen at home. It was faster than the hospital.”

Wait, what the fuck? Weren’t they overseas?

“I don’t itch anymore. Have you come back?” Enzo asked at Atlas. “Please, Daddy. Can he move back in with Max? They can share this time.”

Mr. Marino’s gaze caught on where I stood, sharing a similar look of horror with Gwen, who had also realized I was awake. Enzo’s question seemed to break the spell, though, because Mr. Marino looked down at his son. “He’ll stay as long as he can, baby. Now, let’s get you back to the house and call the doctor.”

Enzo stomped his foot. “I feel fine. I want to stay with Uncle Atty!”

“We’ll talk in the morning, Enz,” the man whom I did not know said.

“Do you promise?” the boy asked. I got the distinct impression he’d said something similar before and hadn’t kept his word.

An enduring character trait, apparently.

“I promise,” the stranger replied before clearing his throat. His gaze kept darting up to me. “Try to get some sleep.”

I stood there, frozen, in the house I felt more and more unwelcome in by the second. It was like I was a prop, or an extra in whatever secret play they’d all performed around me for the last two years.

My friend wasn’t my friend, she was his friend.

My boss wasn’t my boss, he was his brother.

My house wasn’t my house, my job wasn’t my job, my life wasn’t mine.

I thought I’d picked myself up after what happened to me and built something. I thought I’d carved out a future after escaping the hell I was in.

But everyone and everything was a lie.

Grabbing my keys and phone, I was halfway down the stairs when Atlas rounded the house.

“Max!”

I didn’t look back. Striding down the path, I headed for my car.

“Sweetheart, wait,” he said, catching up to me and grabbing my arm. Up ahead, Mr. Marino looked back in apology once before carrying Enzo into the house.

“Let me go,” I snarled, yanking my arm away from him.

“I can explain,” he said, desperate and pleading.