“Bitch,” Piper growled.

“You better make this right. You better do everything in your power to make our girl listen to you.” Rusty’s fierce expression wobbled. “You made her cry, Deke. Alex never cries. Ever. Not since—”

Not since she ran through a window at the cottage to avoid being taken back to her foster home. She’d gotten that wicked scar on her arm as a reminder. How could she ever forgive him? Alex had suffered more than her fair share of pain, and he’d done nothing but cause her more.

He had to get to her, make her understand. He took off running flat out through the room and onto the street.

But he was too late.

Alex was gone.

Chapter Twenty

Alex lay back on the couch and watched Richard Gere open a velvet-covered jewelry box, then snap it down on Julia Roberts’s fingers. It was supposed to be some iconic, funny, unscripted part of this scene. In her opinion, it just made Edward look like a major jerk. Here, desperate prostitute girl, look what I have for you.

Snap.

Sucker! Wouldn’t want you to forget your place now.

What a complete and utter asshole.

Her phone started up again. A picture of Deacon flashed on the screen. He was smiling. The one with his elusive dimple on display. Speaking of assholes. She hit end and cut off the call.

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to make her mind shut the hell up. Nope, not working. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t get the look on his face out of her head, his words on constant loop, banging around her skull.

I’m in love with Alex.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. He didn’t mean it. How could he?

Walking into that room, after seeing those pictures—the pain had been acute, so much so, she’d felt like she was floating outside her body, a bystander to her own pathetic life. But she’d refused to let him see how much his betrayal had broken her. Her only thought had been making him pay, humiliating him the way he had her. Making him hurt, too, the only way she knew how.

And then he’d said it, said he loved her, and she’d freaked out.

Deacon was probably still getting his balls served to him by his irate sisters. God, she hadn’t meant to tell them, but seeing those pictures broke something inside her, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d spilled her guts. The last thing she wanted was to mess up Piper and Rusty’s relationship with their brother.

Jesus, her head hurt.

Rolling off the couch, she climbed to her feet and dusted potato chip crumbs off her shirt. Gah! What a mess. And she wasn’t just talking about the carpet. She looked down at herself, still in the ridiculous outfit Rusty had shoved her in the previous evening. “What was I thinking?”

That was the problem—her brain hadn’t been in the driver’s seat.

Dragging her feet to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Mascara was smudged down her face, hair a tangled rat’s nest. She was rocking the whole Return of the Living Dead look. Nice.

Clean yourself up, girl. Dust yourself off and keep moving forward. Jacob’s voice echoed in her mind. He’d helped her through some of the worst times of her life. Made sure she didn’t stumble and fall, no matter what obstacle was thrown in her way. It’s what she did. She didn’t know how to do anything else. If she stopped, let the pain take hold—stopped moving forward—she felt like she might turn to stone, might get back on the couch and never get off again.

She couldn’t avoid her friends forever. Tomorrow morning cars would arrive at the garage, jobs that needed to be done. Time wouldn’t stop because her heart was broken. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life hiding from everyone.

She needed to talk to Deke.

He’d said he loved her, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t believe in it. Her feelings hadn’t mattered when he’d gone back to his ex. He’d played them both. No one wanted to be the other woman. And that’s what he’d made the both of them.

She had no love for Deacon’s ex-wife, and she didn’t know the cause of his and Emily’s split, but the cold way he’d shut her down in front of that room full of people…no one deserved that, not even Emily.

He’d lied and he’d cheated. She still found it hard to believe. She knew Deacon was ruthless in the boardroom, but she’d never dreamed he could be just as ruthless with the people around him, the people who cared for him. He had two sisters he loved and respected. His actions made no sense.

Stop.

She slammed the brakes on the direction her thoughts were taking. There was no excuse for it. No matter how out of character it seemed, the proof was in black and white in a crumpled heap in her recycle bin.

After a long, hot shower, she pulled on her favorite baggy Led Zeppelin T-shirt and felt slightly more human. Finger combing her damp hair, she headed back to the living room. Sleep wasn’t an option, not yet. Right then she thought she might never sleep again, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Those intense green eyes, making her feel things she’d tried to deny—silently telling lies, making promises that meant nothing. Making her hope, making her believe in him.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Alex jumped and spun around at the sound of a fist connecting with her door.

“Alex, get down to the workshop,” Rusty called through the door. “Quickly!” That was followed by the sound of her friend’s boots pounding back down the stairs. A surge of adrenaline shot though her veins. Was Piper hurt?

She didn’t muck around, shoved her feet in her work boots, flung her door open, and ran down after her. When she pushed open the garage door the place was pitch-dark. Walking in, she groped for the lights. “Rusty? Piper? What’s going on?”

The door banged shut behind her, followed by the sound of the lock engaging. “Hey!” She threw the switch, and the overhead lights blinked to life, making her squint against the harsh brightness. She tried the door. Locked. Those bitches had locked her in. She banged on the steel door. “Let me the hell out.”

Nothing. Complete silence.

The sound of a car door opening behind her had her freezing on the spot.

No. They wouldn’t, would they?

“Alex?”

Bitches!

Deacon’s usually smooth, deep voice was a hell of a lot deeper than usual, and not as steady. She couldn’t make herself turn around.

“Look at me, Alex, please?”

His voice was closer that time, but she remained rooted to the spot. “I don’t want to,” she whispered.

If I look at you, I’ll break.

Then he was right behind her, his tight stomach, his chest, plastered against her back. She shivered as the heat of his body soaked through her thin T-shirt. His hands snaked around to rest on her belly, and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Please, Alex.” He nuzzled the side of her neck and sucked in a deep breath. “Please let me explain.”

She rested her head against the cool steel in front of her, trying to fight the way her body reacted to his touch, how right it felt. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she removed his arms from around her waist and stepped away. “There’s nothing to say. Nothing that can change what’s happened.” She crossed her arms and shuffled a step to the side to get some much-needed space. “I saw the pictures, Deacon. I know about you and Emily. I know you’re sleeping with her.”

He shoved a hand in his hair, making it stick up on one side. She took him in. He looked like shit. Stubble darkened his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot, like he’d had about as much sleep as she had. He was wearing the same trousers and shirt he’d had on at the charity event, only he’d lost the jacket and tie and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.