Page 184 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
A battering ram hit my head.
Either I had the worst hangover or I'd gotten a cold. It felt like both.
I watched Chantilly snatch all the yogurt from the fridge. Hannah staked her claim on the sodas. Cayden scarfed down the cold cuts. Ida Marie ate string cheese without peeling it like a psychopath.
I’d grown past refusing Nash’s food, but part of me wondered if he'd stop making me lunches if I caved and grabbed snacks with witnesses in the room.
I hid a sniffle in my tissue, tempted to curl into my bed in the penthouse’s spare room. An actual mattress and silky sheets with a thread count higher than my bank balance.
This morning, I'd walked into my closet and found it cleared. The panic came first. Fury came second. The return of my vision came last.
A note on the floor read:
I’d give you a key, but we both know you already have one.
Nash
It wasn’t Nash’s handwriting, which made sense since he'd been with me the entire time. It looked like Delilah’s.
I was still staring at the fridge when Nash entered.
“I thought we were over this. Take what you want.” He reached into the fridge, somehow grabbed me exactly what I would have chosen, and tossed it on the empty couch cushion. “I'll still make the damn lunches, Tiger. Eat. Whatever. You. Want. Fuck.”
I reached for the juice pouch and pepperoni pizza Lunchables. My hip bumped the Jana Sport. A cascade of tissues fell to the floor
Nash spotted them, taking in the sheer quantity. “Are you sick?” A litany of curses sailed out of him. “I told you you’d get sick in the rain.”
“I told you so? Really?” I tore open the Lunchables and ate a pepperoni, smiling at him despite the congestion. “Are we five? You can do better than that.”
Nash collected my Jana Sport. “Come on.”
I tore into another pepperoni slice. “I already opened this.” The tray rattled in my frozen palms. “Can’t waste food.”
He nicked the meal and slammed it beside Chantilly’s yogurt. “Eat this.”
She jolted from the desk. “But—”
“Eat it.” His back ended her response. A thick brow arched at me. “Problem solved. We’re going.”
“I’m hungry,” I protested, but I followed him into the elevator.
He pressed the G button for the garage. “I’ll pick up McDonald’s on the way.”
I exited the elevator first. “I hate McDonald’s.”
“Virginia hates McDonald’s. You love it.” Nash unlocked his car, swung the door open for me, and waited for me to settle into the seat’s leather. “You’re obsessed with peeling the breading off their McNuggets and shoving them into a McDouble with fries, which by the way is fucking disgusting.”
“My McMasterpiece. Yum.” A sneeze swallowed my moan. The tissue filled my palm. Being sick sucked. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”
I ate my McMasterpiece on the way to the doctor’s office. The final bite spoke of regret. I considered vomiting, but Nash’s car still smelled of petrichor and mud. Plus, he no longer had a roof. Maybe I'd done enough damage to the car.
“This is pointless. It's just a cold. It’ll go away on its own. One week max, but probably less.” Without a heater in my Alabama studio, I’d gotten so many colds, I was a pro at this point.
“We’re still going to the hospital.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I hid my smile, because I read between the Nash-colored lines. He cared. It was cute. Warm, even. Like watching Ben and Nash merge into one being. The affection of Ben, mixed with the brash exterior of Nash.
