Half-Truths: New York Times Bestselling Author

by Contreras, Claire

  “You have somewhere to be?” His voice was hoarse. I chalked it up to the cool air in the room.

  “A party.”

  “Toga party?”

  “Yeah. Are you going?”

  “Maybe. I have some things to do before then though.”

  “I need to change out of this.” I tugged on my cloak.

  “Let’s have a drink and then you change and go.”

  “You told me not to drink.”

  “That was before this. I didn’t want you bleeding excessively.”

  “Oh.” I licked my lips. “I guess a drink wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe it’ll help with the throbbing in my hand.”

  He took the things in my hand, dumped it in a silver thing, and turned to me, waiting.

  “You’re going to leave that there?”

  “They’ll burn it.”

  We walked out of there and headed back in the direction I’d come from. Instead of going up the second flight of stairs, Logan walked around the staircase and opened a door that was beneath it. He held it open as I gaped.

  “There’s a bar here?”

  “The best one, because it’s quiet.”

  I stepped inside. It looked like a downtown Manhattan bar but minimized for ants. It was that small. Yet, I could see how three people could fit here comfortably. It was as wide as the large staircase and tall. Tall enough for Logan to fit standing upright. He pointed up at the ceiling, which swirled like a staircase. Not the staircase it was beneath though, since that one just went straight up.

  “I told you the original owner was a nutcase.”

  “She must have been a huge Escher fangirl,” I said.

  “Or a nutcase,” Logan said as he walked to the other side of the bar where the bottles were. I took a seat on the barstool across from him, yanking the cloak so it wouldn’t get caught in my sandal.

  “This cloak really does nothing for me.”

  “Really? Is it the bagginess? Is it the black? You wear black normally, so it can’t be that.” His eyes were dancing as he checked things off.

  “You pay attention to me that much?”

  “Hey, I knew your size, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, and that’s creepy and weird. How did you know my size?”

  “Guesstimated.” He shrugged a shoulder as he lifted a bottle of Jameson from the shelf behind him and showed it to me. “This okay?”

  “Anything you give me right now is okay. My hand hurts like a bitch. I need a distraction.”

  He placed two glasses between us, reached down, opened something that crunched and brought up a plastic cup with ice, and poured our drinks.

  “You know, there are other ways to distract from pain.” He slid a glass my way.

  “Let me guess.” I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, licking my lips as I lowered it. “You mean sex.”

  “Not everything is about sex, Amelia, but I’m down for that too.” He lifted his glass. I lifted mine and tapped it against his. “Cheers. To being in this weird, yet loyal family.”

  “Cheers.” I took another sip, relishing the burn as it went down my throat. “Here’s to hoping this family isn’t as dysfunctional as the one we have now.”

  He lifted his glass and drank.

  “What about your mom? Does she suck?”

  “No, I love my mom. She moved away to Colorado when I was twelve. Ran away with her co-worker. I didn’t understand it then, but I sure as hell did later. My father was a bastard. An abusive, cheating, alcoholic bastard. He’s gotten better, but he’s still not someone I’d want my mom with. My brother is a bastard. I’m . . . well . . . I am what I am.” He took a gulp of the whiskey, hissing as his throat worked to swallow it.

  “You are who you want to be.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Sometimes.” I shrugged. “Other times I think I’m just the spoiled little rich girl everyone thinks I am. Living in my glass castle, you know.”

  He set his elbows on the bar, leaned in closer to me, and whispered, “I won’t cast stones at you.”

  “I appreciate that,” I whispered back, licking my lips again.

  “You’re beautiful, even in this shitty cloak,” he said, his eyes scanning mine. “Even with no makeup and messy hair, you’re beautiful.”

  “Stop.” I pulled away, sitting straight on my stool, taking my glass with me. “I don’t want to be the girl you seduce in a tiny bar, underneath the stairwell.”

  “That’s fair.” He sipped his drink.

  We finished our drinks and walked back to our rooms, idling outside my door. I thought he was going to hit on me again, invite me in, kiss me, anything. He didn’t. He just watched me with those wanton green eyes that seemed to darken to black the longer he stared, and I just watched him.

  “See you later, Logan Moriarty.”

  He smiled softly. “See you later, Amelia Elizabeth.”

  I walked into the room and shut the door behind me, banging my head against it and wishing I was the kind of person who could invite him in for a hookup. Then again, something told me if Logan wanted to hookup, he would have invited himself in somehow. I changed quickly and walked to the window again. There were no cloaks out there. I needed to ask Logan about the red cloaks and the cemetery asap.

  Chapter Thirty

  I knocked on his door when I finished getting dressed and had ordered my Uber. Black car service because I was obviously too extra even for my own good. He opened the door, dressed in what he was wearing earlier.

  “So, when Nora said we were sleeping here . . . “

  “We’re sleeping here tonight.” He eyed me up and down. “Where’s your toga?”

  “I have to go home to get it. I wasn’t really expecting to leave straight from here.”

  “When you say you have to go home and get it . . . ” He squinted, tilting his head. I would’ve thought he looked adorable if he wasn’t making fun of me.

  “I got one online,” I admitted begrudgingly.

  “You know you can just grab a white sheet and . . .” He mimicked wrapping a sheet around himself, totally fighting a laugh.

  “I know. Shut up.”

  “I’ll take you.” He laughed that time. “Home, I mean. I have to go there anyway.”

  “Thanks, but I already got an Uber.” I waved my phone.

  “So cancel it.”

  “And risk them giving me a one-star?” My eyes widened.

  “What’s your rating now?”

  “4.82.”

  “How’d you get points deducted?”

  “Probably because I let Lincoln use my account and he was probably acting like an idiot. I cannot afford to lose more stars.”

  “Just cancel it. Come on. I’m going home too.”

  “Fine.” I canceled it, biting my lip as I confirmed it. “Damn it I can’t believe I did that.”

  Logan shook his head, smiling. “Let’s go.”

  As we drove out of the gates, I looked over to the right side of the house, where I’d seen the red cloaks and the holes on the ground.

  “What’s on that side?”

  “Another house.”

  “A house?” I frowned. “With a cemetery in the back?”

  “What . . . ohhhh. Yeah.” He shook his head. “The red cloaks do things a little different.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re a medical society, so you have to be in that field to get in there. They used to be grave diggers back in the day, when they first started. They’d dig graves and take bodies that hadn’t been buried long in order to examine them. Now they use those graves for hazing new recruits.”

  “Hazing them how?” I felt like I could barely breathe as I asked these questions, but my curiosity, as usual, got the best of me.

  “They make them sleep there overnight.”

  “What?” I shouted. “And nobody reports this?”

  “Are you going to report us for making you walk blindfolded over knives?”

  “No, but
I should.” I frowned.

  “Right.” He grinned. “That’s why nobody reports them. Once you’re in, you’re part of the problem.”

  Fuck. I hadn’t even thought of it like that. I didn’t know what all of these people did, what the graduates were involved with. I looked at Logan.

  “What about my dad?”

  He glanced my way briefly as he took a turn. “What about him?”

  “Was he involved in anything . . . questionable?”

  “I don’t really like to comment on whether or not I agree with the things The Lab Initiative does.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They’re the board that heads The Eight. Also consists of eight people, all alumni, all former Eights. They’re the reason the money is funneled into our accounts without anyone tracking it.”

  “So what is it they do that you don’t agree with?”

  “A lot of things.” He sighed heavily, wiping his wrapped hand over his joggers as if to scratch it. “You’ll start to learn things about them soon enough.”

  “I want to learn them now.”

  He parallel parked the truck in an empty spot across from our building and looked over at me. “What is it you want to know exactly?”

  “I want to know what my father was involved in and whether or not he had something to do with . . . whether or not he was involved with Lana. Like, on more than just a mentorship kind of level.”

  “Yes. They were definitely sleeping together.” He raised an eyebrow as if to say are you satisfied now? I felt crushed. He knew it, but he didn’t hold back, he kept going. “Your father and a group of men formed a small group for girls, students, specifically students who want their mentorship or just need money, sign up and go on dates with them, dates with expectations. Is that what you want me to clarify for you?”

  I felt my surroundings closing in on me. Suddenly the truck felt too small, the seatbelt too tight, and my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. I unclicked the seatbelt and ran out of the truck, ignoring the crows above my head and the way they seemed to be there any time I felt uneasy. I ignored the chill in the air and the darkness that was falling over me all too quickly, and crossed the street quickly.

  Once in the building, I waved at Gary and rushed to the elevator, riding up and running to my apartment. Only after I slammed the door shut and locked it did I feel safe. Only then, did I manage to breathe. I shook as I undressed and headed to the shower, needing to wash away everything. Everything. Everything. My fist pounded the shower walls as I let the spray hit me. I would have to blow dry my hair and re-apply my make up, but I didn’t care if standing beneath this shower meant erasing everything I’d just learned about my father.

  As I dried myself, I heard pounding on the door, but I ignored it. It was probably Logan and I wasn’t sure if he was here to apologize or hit me with more knowledge. Either way, it was unwelcome. I had an ex-boyfriend to deal with at a toga party I didn’t exactly want to go to, but Celia and Max would be there, and I definitely wanted to see them. The elation lasted all of two seconds before I realized I couldn’t talk to them about this even if I wanted to because part of signing that oath tonight also meant silencing myself.

  * * *

  I was already dressed when my phone buzzed. I lifted it to see a text from an unknown number and froze for a second before sliding it to read the full text.

  Unknown number: I was knocking earlier.

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown number: Satan.

  Me: Seriously, who is this? I’m tired of the games.

  Unknown number: it’s Logan. What games?

  Me: How’d you get my number?

  Unknown number: Does it matter?

  I paused. Did it? No. Not really anyway. I knew he wasn’t the one behind the texts I was getting. That wasn’t his style. His style was blunt force trauma, and I could verify that from the way he dropped the news about my father and The Lab Initiative. I saved his phone number.

  Logan Fitzgerald: You heading to the party yet?

  Me: Soon. Travis is meeting me there.

  Logan Fitzgerald: I guess I don’t want to know the answer to the burning question in my mind after all

  Me: what question?

  Logan Fitzgerald: I was wondering if you were going to wear something under the toga. Maybe something red. Maybe something black.

  Me: that’s definitely none of your business.

  Logan Fitzgerald: Maybe I’ll find out

  Me: With how I feel about you right now, I might break your hand so you have to sit out this year if you try to find out

  Logan Fitzgerald: You’re funny when you’re angry. Are you going to break the hand that contains your blood?

  I paused, biting my lip. Why did it feel like the butterflies in my stomach took flight when I read those words?

  Me: Maybe.

  Me: I’ll be naked under the toga

  After a moment of receiving no answer from him, I tossed my phone into my bag with a laugh, grateful for the slight improvement in my mood, and headed downstairs where an Uber was waiting for me.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “For the record, toga parties are just an excuse for jocks to show off their muscles and girls to walk around almost naked.” I lifted my red cup to make that toast with Celia and missed her cup, hitting the air beside it instead.

  “You know you’re slurring your words.”

  “Am not.” I blinked hard.

  My eyes felt heavier than usual. I hadn’t drunk like this in a long time, but tonight I’d decided to escape the madness inside my head and drown out my thoughts. Maybe I was slurring.

  “You are.” Celia raised an eyebrow. “Have some water. You don’t want to be slurring when Travis gets here. Also, let me tie your toga again. I’m scared your boobs are going to pop out.”

  I looked down at myself. My boobs were not in any danger of popping out. My vagina, maybe. The slit came all the way to the tip-top of my thigh, but not my boob. I said this out loud and Celia laughed.

  “Dude, your slit is really high. You know people don’t normally use actual sheets for these things, right? We buy ready-made togas at costume stores.”

  “Um, excuse me, I did buy a ready-made toga. I just made minor improvements.” I looked down at my exposed thigh. “Maybe I went a little overboard.”

  Celia laughed again. “You’re a mess.”

  I took another gulp of the water. Maybe I did need it, after all. My throat felt parched.

  “Do you have a mint?”

  “I do.” She shook a tin of cinnamon Altoids and handed it to me. “Are you planning on making out with your ex? If so, I’m gonna have to advise against it.”

  “No way.” I laughed, popping a mint in my mouth and handing her the tin back. “That ship has sailed. Am I still slurring?”

  “Yes. More water.”

  “I’m going to have to pee. Also, I want another shot of Fireball.”

  “Oh my God, Mae. Drink the water, then pee.” She shot me a stern look. “Then we’ll do another shot.”

  “Be right back.” I walked toward the bathroom.

  The room seemed to shift a little, so I slowed down. Maybe another shot wasn’t the brightest idea. Still, I’d feel better after I peed. When I was finished in the bathroom, I stepped out and held onto the threshold for a second. The party was a sea of white sheets. The only thing missing was a Trojan horse smack in the center of the room to hide in. I must have been standing there for a long time, because by the time I reached the kitchen, where Celia was now making out with Quentin, I felt like I was completely sober. I grabbed a red solo cup and vacillated between the Fireball and Cuervo.

  “Fireball. I’ll do one with you.” Travis’s voice beside me made me gasp as I turned around to face him.

  He looked as handsome as ever, one brown muscled shoulder and arm exposed in his loose-fitting toga. From the way his hairline was perfectly even and his dark hair faded on the sides, I could te
ll he’d just gone to the barber. His smile was wide as he looked at me for a moment before wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into him. I pressed my face to his chest and breathed in his familiar scent, Aqua Di Gio cologne, and exhaled, already feeling much better than I’d felt all day. He pulled away slightly but kept his hand splayed on my back as he turned to Celia.

  “Are you the roommate that left her after a hot minute?”

  Celia laughed. “Yes, but I still check up on her.”

  “Good.” He left his hand on my back. I fought the urge to shrug it off. “It was the right move for you though. This is a nice place.”

  “Hell yeah it’s a nice place, and you can crash anytime you want,” Quentin said, smiling. “But we still gonna kick your ass in ball.”

  Travis laughed. “We’ll see about that. We got a new center and he’s looking like Shaq out there.”

  “That just means we’ll have to foul him and see how he does from the three-point line.”

  “Ah, low blow.” Travis laughed again.

  “Okay, we gotta go say hi to people,” Celia interrupted. “You guys can talk sports later.”

  She shot me a look that said, damn he’s hot, as she dragged Quentin out of there. I shook my head and turned back to Travis.

  “Do you have a cup?”

  He reached over the counter and got one from the new stack. “I do now.”

  “Perfect.” I placed them side by side and poured a decent amount of Fireball for a shot, the amount that would burn the hell out of our throats and probably make us question our choices tomorrow. I slid him a cup and picked up mine. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” His dark brown eyes met mine as he tapped his cup to mine. We took the shot at the same time and set the cups down on the counter. “Another one?”

  “One more.” I laughed, pouring us another one. We did it again, setting the cups down.

  “One more?”

  “No. I already had too many tonight. I’m good for now. Maybe in thirty minutes.”

  “If there’s any left.” He eyed the bottle and looked at me again. “You look great, as usual.”