Say You're Mine

by Diane Alberts

  Lauren’s eyes flew open. “O-Okay.”

  “Not you,” he snapped. Glaring at Holt, he jabbed a finger toward him. “You. Go. Now.”

  Holt hesitated. “You can be pissed at me all you want, but I was worried about you. So I asked Lauren—”

  “Yeah. I got that part, loud and clear.” Steven ground his teeth together, trying his damnedest not to break. Not now. Not in front of Holt. Not even in front of Lauren. “Now go.”

  Holt nodded. “Lauren…?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, hugging herself. She seemed anything but fine, which perversely made him happy because he wasn’t either. “Go ahead.”

  Holt walked past her, but stopped in front of Steven. “Be pissed at me all you want, but she cares about you. Don’t ruin this out of anger.”

  Steven clenched his fists even tighter and didn’t answer.

  This—whatever this was—was already ruined.

  As soon as Holt walked away, and was gone, Lauren stepped forward. “Please, let me explain.”

  Her pale skin was at stark contrast with the darkness surrounding them, and her blue eyes were full of so many emotions it was like a tornado of feelings. He shut all that out, though. Couldn’t afford to feel it. To feel anything.

  “There’s really not much to explain.” He flexed his jaw. “Did you lie to me?”

  She flinched. “Y-Yes. But—”

  “No. No buts. You fucking lied.”

  “Please, I—” She grabbed his arm. He shook her off. She paled even more and tears spilled out onto her cheeks, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t. “Steven.”

  She’d said his name a million times, in lots of different ways. But she’d never said it like this, with pain laced through it. It did things to him. Bad things. When she was in pain, he made it better. Hugged her. Soothed her. But this time, she was in pain because of him, and he was in pain, too.

  And he wasn’t sure what to do about that.

  “You know how much I hate liars,” he ground his teeth together, “and you lied to me anyway. Didn’t take a chance, out of the million chances you’ve had, to come clean.”

  “It wasn’t a lie.” She shook her head, her cheeks wet. “Not really. Brian did break in, and I was scared…at first.”

  He growled under his breath. Just moments before, he’d been buried inside of her and had been so sure he was on top of the world. And now…this. “If it wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t a big deal, why not tell me? Why hide it and pretend like Holt never asked you to keep an eye on me, or pretend like you were scared at all? Why not just tell me the truth all along?”

  She stared at him, opening her mouth and closing it.

  No sound came out.

  He laughed. “Yeah. Exactly. It was a lie, and you kept it to yourself, knowing how I would feel afterward. That was your choice. And it doesn’t even matter that it’s a small lie. What matters is that you knew it would upset me, and you did it anyway. And that’s what I can’t forgive.”

  He clenched his jaw, all the other times a lie had hurt him coming back to haunt him, but one in particular wouldn’t shut up. The time he’d lost all his men. After that, he swore to never let a lie go unquestioned again. To never forgive. Never forget. And he couldn’t change that for Lauren. He’d lost too much. Seen too much.

  A lie was a lie, no matter how big or small.

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t say that. I was worried about you, and did what I had to do to keep you with me. Is that so bad?”

  “Since you lied about it?” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Yes. It’s that bad. You lied to me. You know how important honesty is to me, but you smiled and lied more. This whole thing was a way to keep me by your side, and nothing more.”

  “No. It was real.” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it. “It was all real.”

  “The funny thing about lies? They break trust.” He let out a short laugh. “I don’t fucking believe you anymore.”

  “What was I supposed to say?” she cried. “That I was worried you might be drinking yourself into a grave? That I asked you to stay with me because you might hurt yourself? That I couldn’t bear the thought of you doing anything to harm yourself, so I did the one thing guaranteed to make you hate me? That it was worth the risk?”

  He staggered back. “I would never do anything like that. If you think I would, you don’t know me at all. You never did.”

  She lowered her lashes, tears streaming down her ghostly pale cheeks. “I was worried about you. I…I love you. And I—”

  “Don’t.” The word came out strained. Weak. And that pissed him off. “Don’t even think about using that against me. Not now.” That came out a hell of a lot stronger.

  Good. He needed strength to do what came next.

  She bit down on her lower lip even harder to stop it from trembling. It didn’t work. “If you don’t believe anything else, you have to believe that, at least. Hate me. Love me. Do what you want, but I love you. And I won’t stop.”

  Something pierced through him. It seemed so real, so there, that he actually glanced down to see what it was. There was, of course, nothing there. What he felt was the loss of what might have been. The loss of her. “We’re done.”

  “No. No, no, no.” She doubled over and pressed a hand to her heart. Did she feel the same penetrating pain he did? “Don’t say that.”

  He swallowed hard. She was looking at him like he ripped her heart out and stomped on it. And maybe he did. But that was only fair. She’d done it to him, too. She’d taken the one person in this world he trusted—the one person who he thought he could count on to be real with him—and ripped her out of his arms.

  There was no coming back from that.

  She was no better than the superior officer who lied to him.

  “You’re just like him.”

  She shifted on her feet. “Like who? Holt?”

  “No. He lied and my men—” He stalked toward her, but forced himself to stop. If he touched her, he wasn’t sure what would happen. And he was done talking about what happened to him. Done opening up to her, when she clearly didn’t care. “You know what? I’m done here. Good-bye, Lauren.”

  She shook her head. “Steven.”

  “The last time I lost everything because of a lie, I swore to never forgive”—he pointed at her—“a liar. That’s you. I know you don’t get it, and you probably think I’m being harsh. But there are some lines I can’t cross anymore. For my sanity, so that I can get through the next day—trusting the people I have in my life—that’s what is most important. And I stand by that promise I made.”

  “I’m sorry.” When he tried to walk past her, she threw herself in his arms and hugged him, holding on tight. “I refuse to let you go. I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have lied, but I love you. Don’t push me away. Don’t do this.”

  He ached to wrap his arms around her and hug her close. Tell her he forgave her, that he would forgive her for anything. But he didn’t, because he didn’t.

  He shouldn’t be so surprised it was ending like this. He knew deep down, all along, that he didn’t deserve a happy ending. It was fitting he wasn’t getting one.

  Gripping her shoulders, he tugged her off and set her down, at arm’s length. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Just leave me the hell alone.”

  Then he stormed past her.

  She let him this time.

  “You promised,” she called out, her voice laced with pain—that he caused her. He didn’t have a fucking clue what to do with that yet. With any of this. “You promised you’d never leave me.”

  He stiffened, his fists clenched tight, and his jaw even tighter. “And you promised you wouldn’t lie to me.” He took another step. “Guess we’re even.”

  A small, broken sound escaped her. “If you leave now, if you walk away from me, I…I won’t let you back in. I won’t forgive you. This was the one thing I was scared of, and you promised you wouldn’t let it happen. I trusted you
. So if you do this…” She choked on a sob. “I’ll never forgive you. Only walk away if you’re ready to accept that.”

  Shaking his head, he swallowed hard. His brain was at war with his heart. Lying was his one thing that would break them apart, and she knew it. She’d done it anyway.

  He could, too.

  So he walked away before he did something stupid.

  Walked right over the flowers he’d given her, crushing the red petals into the pavement. Lauren sobbed behind him, but he didn’t look at her. Didn’t stop.

  He couldn’t.

  The whole way back to his place, he went over the fight. He replayed it in his head, again and again, until it became scratched and sketchy, like an overplayed record. And he still felt like shit. Still wanted to scream and punch things.

  Still wanted to go back and tell her he was sorry.

  But what the hell was he sorry for?

  He got that she was worried about him. He did. But all along, he’d been very clear that honesty in a relationship was the only thing he required. And she’d ignored that.

  He didn’t know how to accept that, or move on.

  Or if he even could.

  He stopped in front of the bar he’d been in the night he and Lauren first hooked up. The night she called him and begged him to come to her place. She’d been upset, and he could obviously tell something was up. He just hadn’t thought she would lie to him like that. Had never suspected that.

  Flexing his jaw, he ripped the door open and stumbled inside. He hadn’t had a drink in almost a week. No time like the present to make up for lost opportunities.

  We were worried about you. You were drinking yourself into a grave.

  Yeah, well, watch him do exactly that.

  Settling down at the bar, he pulled his wallet out of his pants and opened it.

  The bartender—a pretty little blonde—came over, interest clearly written all over her face. She was wasting her time. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ll take a double shot of Scotch, and another.” He tossed forty dollars on the bar. “Keep them coming till I look like I don’t need any more.”

  She took the money and shoved it in her bra, frowning. “Let me guess. A woman…or a man?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Yep.” She shook her head. “Definitely a woman.”

  He watched her walk off, hips swinging, and felt nothing. Nothing toward her, anyway. Now, toward Lauren? He felt it all. Grief. Pain. Anger. Betrayal.

  His phone buzzed. He pulled it out. It was a call. He didn’t answer it. Lydia would have to wait to find out if he was all right. He wasn’t even sure yet.

  The bartender slid a glass toward him. “I went right for the triple.”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Need anything else?”

  His phone buzzed again. “No. I’m fine,” he answered, glancing at his screen. It was a text from Lydia. Of fucking course it was.

  Are you okay?

  He didn’t want to answer her, but she was his sister. And he couldn’t ignore her. She deserved better.

  I’m fine.

  A moment, and then:

  Holt’s worried about you. So am I.

  Screw him. He loved Holt, he did. But the man pressed on his last nerve, and he didn’t give a damn how he felt right now.

  I’m fine. And don’t get me started on Holt.

  He loves you.

  Steven snorted. He has a stupid way of showing it.

  Is Lauren with you?

  He gripped the phone tighter. No.

  Steve…

  Picking up his drink, he frowned at it. He didn’t drink it, though.

  No. I’m not discussing it with you.

  Funny, you didn’t listen when I told you the same thing with Holt.

  He swallowed and set it down untouched. I can’t.

  Want to come stay with us?

  He tugged on his tie and sighed. No. I’m fine.

  That’s the one word that never actually means its meaning.

  It was true, and he wasn’t. I’ll be fine. I just need time.

  I’m here if you need me.

  He set his phone down and picked up his drink again. His phone buzzed again, but he didn’t look. Didn’t want to talk to anyone or anything—

  “You look like you could use some company,” some brunette said, sitting down beside him. “Are you all right?”

  He didn’t want company. And he wasn’t all right. But she didn’t look the type to get the message. He set down his still full glass for the second time. “No. I’m not in a good mood.”

  “That’s okay. Neither am I. What’s your story?”

  He spun his drink in a loose circle, shrugged, and didn’t pick it up. “My girlfriend broke my heart today.”

  “Same here,” the brunette chick said. “And she walked away afterward.”

  Ah. So she wasn’t going to expect him to go home with her. Good. Steven glared down at his phone. Lauren had texted him. “I’m the one who walked away.”

  “How did that make you feel?” the woman asked, resting her hand on his arm.

  He pushed his full glass away. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want to drink himself into oblivion. The pain was his, and Lauren’s, and he needed to feel it. Just like she was.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three nights.

  That’s how long it had been since Steven found out she tricked him into staying at her place. Three days since she’d talked to him, or seen him, or even smelled him. He asked her to leave him alone…so she had. She only sent one text to him, that night, and that was it. It had been simple and short.

  I’m sorry.

  He never even read it.

  On her way home that night, she saw him. He sat at a bar, with a glass of whiskey in front of him, and a pretty brunette on his side¸ chatting him up. When the brunette placed her hand on his arm, and he didn’t shake her off, Lauren’s heart shattered even more. She walked away after that. She didn’t need to see what came next.

  Not even thirty minutes, and he’d moved on already.

  That’s how much she meant to him.

  All along, she knew how this would more than likely end. He would forget about her, and she would be left to mourn the loss of not only his touch, but also his friendship.

  While he was fine.

  She never should have let him in.

  She stirred the icing, taking her anger out on it. Those first two nights, she cried herself to sleep. After doing the same last night, she refused to do it again. She shed enough tears over him, and what she thought he meant to her. It was over. They were over.

  It was time to move on, since he clearly had.

  The bell over the door jingled. She called out, “I’ll be right out.”

  No one answered.

  “Hello?”

  Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and she froze.

  If it was him…

  Setting the spoon down, she walked out into the shop area. The second she rounded the corner, she let out a breath of, well…something. It wasn’t Steven. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, upset, or happy. Everything was all tangled up inside of her in a tight, knotted, unrecognizable ball. “Oh. Hey.”

  Holt rested his hands on the counter. “How are you doing?”

  “Great. I’m great.” She dried her hands off with a rag and forced a smile. “You?”

  “You haven’t been answering Lydia’s calls,” he said, ignoring her question.

  Lauren set the rag down. “I just needed time.”

  “That’s what Steven said.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Holt had seen Steven. If they’d spoken, or if he was okay, but she wouldn’t. He cut her off. Forgot about her. She needed to do the same. “How is Lydia, by the way?”

  “Good. She wants some pie.”

  Lauren cocked her head. “I heard you make an ex
cellent one. Why come to me?”

  “I didn’t have time to bake. The boss kept us late at work.” He pointed out the window. Mark was out there, and so was Cooper Shillings. Steven was not. “So I figured I would stop in and grab some here on my way home.”

  Lauren craned her neck to look to the side of the other men.

  Holt cleared his throat. “He’s not out there. He went home after work.”

  Of course he did. He wouldn’t want to risk seeing her. “Apple pie?”

  “Yes, please.” Holt pulled his wallet out and frowned. “I’m sorry it went down like that. I never meant to ruin what you two had. We were just making sure he was okay.”

  “So was I, and we can’t regret that.”

  Holt took the cash in his brown leather wallet. It had a TARDIS on it. “I guess not. He’s still barely talking to me, but I can tell he misses you.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “You didn’t need to,” Holt said kindly.

  Nodding, she boxed up the pie and blinked rapidly. No. More. Crying. “That’ll be six dollars.”

  He tossed a ten down. “Keep the change.”

  “This isn’t a tipping establishment.”

  He shrugged and picked up the box. “Call Lydia back. She’s worried about you.”

  And he walked out. The second the door closed behind him, he walked over to the two other men. Mark glanced in, waved, and smiled. Lauren forced a smile and waved back. They walked away, and she covered her face, sagging against the wall.

  It was over. It was actually over.

  Shaking herself off, she pushed off the wall. The door opened again, and Mark came in. “Hey, Lauren.”

  “H-Hi,” she said, smiling. “Can I get you something?”

  “Do you have any cookies? Like, big, girly, kid-like ones?”

  She blinked at him. “Yeah, over there.”

  He walked over and bent down, staring into the glass case. “I’ll take the tiara.”

  “Okay…”

  He glanced up, grinning. “You’re confused.”

  “Hey, if you like tiara cookies, I’ve got no issue with that.”

  “It’s for my daughter. She’s two.”

  Lauren’s jaw dropped. Out of all the things she expected Mark to say, that was pretty much the last thing on the list, underneath I’m pregnant. “You have a daughter?”