Page 27 of Vicious Little Liar
I knew from the beginning she’d need to be handled with care, but I never expected to learn just how truly beaten down she is. It’s a miracle she hasn’t broken in the face of all she’s endured.
Looking at her now, I question how much longer she will accept the abuse before she does. Break, that is.
How is she supposed to survive in a world as dark and dangerous as ours?
Leticia twists her fingers in her lap. There is a restless energy about her today, and a part of me wants to soothe her. It worries me. I’m getting attached, which is dangerous. But I meant what I said before. Being enemies is a choice. And it's one we’ve both rejected.
Making the decision to set my worries aside, I allow my instincts to guide me and reach across her lap to tangle my fingers with hers.
She sucks in a sharp intake of breath, and I brace myself for the moment she pulls away.
It never comes.
Seconds pass in silence, and the outside world fades aways. My vision blurs along the edges, and a ringing picks up in my ears. This overwhelming sense of urgency sinks its claws into my chest, stealing away all thought and reason.
My heart races. The way my body responds to her touch should worry me. Maybe even convince me to step away.
But I can’t.
I am motionless beside her, unwilling to break this new and unknown thing brewing between us. Staring down at our interlocked fingers, I marvel at the softness of her skin against my calloused palm. Her graceful fingers are long and elegant within my grasp, making it appear like I’m holding the hand of a child. She is so much smaller than me.
We sit in comfortable silence, neither one of us bothering to keep track of time. I can’t remember the last time my mind quieted this much. When I could set aside my thoughts and worries over duty and family and just…be.
“Thank you,” Leticia whispers, squeezing my hand.
Turning to face her, I wait for her to meet my gaze before reaching for her again. She flinches when my fingers get close to her cheek, hovering less than an inch above her skin. But she doesn’t rebuke me, so after only a second of hesitation, I close the distance to trail my hand against her sensitive skin.
“Does it hurt?”
Her eyes widen, and I can see her thoughts. All but hear the stories she sifts through in her mind. But that’s all they would be. Made up stories. Lies.
Swallowing hard, Leticia’s skin pales. She’s edging close to panic. But why?
“Don’t lie.” Cupping her chin, I stare into her dark brown gaze. “You can keep your secrets,” I tell her, confident that, in time, she will give them to me on her own. “But don’t lie. Not to me. That is the only condition I have for our friendship.” If she lies to me, even once, all of her truths will become questionable.
Leticia swallows and nods, some of the tension draining from her face.
“Okay. No lies.”
My lips quirk into the faintest smile. “Good. No lies.”
10
LETICIA
Andres takes my hand, pulling me from the car and toward the iron gates that lead into his family home. Like my own, it is a hacienda-style estate with red clay roof tiles and adobe walls finished with bright white stucco. But even though I am outside looking in, it’s easy to see there is a warmth about the home Andres grew up in.
A warmth that was always lacking in mine.
Needing to collect my bearings—something that is impossible to do with Andres touching me—I tug on my wrist, trying to pull my hand free from his. A firm squeeze of his fingers is a wordless refusal, telling me what I already know. Andres has no intention of releasing me tonight.
Rolling my eyes, I try again.
And again, he refuses, this time tightening his grip with near bruising force.
Urgh. With a resigned huff, I abandon my efforts and follow him through a curved archway and past the iron gates into the courtyard. My feet meet terracotta tiles, and my heels click noisily with each of my steps.
“This way,” he murmurs, steering me to our right.
