Page 142 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
If he called me up at four a.m. and told me he’d killed someone, I’d help him dig a damn grave outside a police station if he needed me to.
Nash shook his head like he found me sad and pathetic. His confidence punished me, because it meant he believed in his words, and when Nash believed, I did, too.
“You’d fight beside him, not for him. Two separate things. If he asked you to put down the sword, you’d listen because your stake isn’t bone-deep, a reflex, an untrained instinct. You have a choice in it, and that is the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. You can control one, but you sure as hell can’t control the other.”
“What do you know about love?” I spit out, hating the gap in our wisdom.
In ten years, would I say things like this?
Would I even know things like this?
He slid off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the counter, stopping only to loosen his tie. “Enough to know you were never in love with Reed.”
“But how?”
“Because I know what love looks like. I had to watch Ma and Dad love each other, then lose each other. Your parents have the most money of anyone I’ve ever met, but mine are the richest people I’ve ever known.” He tore off his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and folded his cuffs midway up his arms, stopping just when the penance tattoo peeked out. “If I tell you anything worth learning, it’s this. Love is the most expensive thing you’ll ever own. You pay for it with grief, tears, and a piece of your soul, but in return, you receive happiness, memories, and life.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Words matter to you, yet you throw the most important one around without understanding what it means.”
Yes, but why does that matter to you? Why does it bother you enough to correct me? Why, why, why? I don’t understand you, Nash Prescott. Do you even understand yourself?
“It was fierce loyalty that tricked you into thinking you were in love with Reed,” he added.
“Because you know me so well.”
“I do. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that we’re strangers. You never belonged with Reed, Little Tiger. He is domesticated. You are wild. To tame you would be a travesty. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can move on.”
He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, I almost didn’t process the weight of his words.
Almost.
If that was how Nash saw me, why—fucking why—were we always at each other’s throats?
If Reed was the prince of peaceful forests and snowless mountains, Nash was the king of smoke, and ashes, and lies. He was the fire that ravaged those forests and the ashes that rained down on those mountains. I wanted to inhale his smoke, coat my tongue with his ashes, and bury myself in his lies.
But smoke ruined lungs.
Ashes tasted like death.
And lies blinded dreamers.
I was a dreamer.
He was a nightmare.
War brewed within me, fueled by envy.
I blinked at Nash, wondering how he could stand there with a fucking Turkey & Ruffles sandwich held out to me like this was normal. He arched a brow as if to tell me my opinion of myself was built on a lie.
We st
ared at one another until he brought the sandwich to my lips again.
I let him continue feeding me, accepting another bite. It gave me time to hide my uncertainty. Handling our proximity shook me, but handling his words crippled me.
After I finished the sandwich, he washed and cut strawberries, then set a bowl of them on the counter. Sliding the freezer open, he scooped vanilla bean ice cream into the bowl and finished it off with Torani white chocolate and marshmallow syrups.
