“Yeah.” When he tried to brush her hair back from her face, she jerked back from him, as though his touch might burn her skin.

Fuck.

Oh god, he felt like he was drowning. And it was his own fault for drilling holes in the boat.

“How far do these lies go?” Her voice was cold.

Where could he even begin? “The house I told you was my friend’s is mine. All that crap is mine.”

“And you thought what?” she spat. “That not telling me was okay? That I shouldn’t be allowed to have the truth and make my own decision?”

“Everly, I know it looks bad, but I did it because . . .” This was coming out all wrong. His throat closed up. He could see she had no interest in hearing his excuses.

“You lied to me because you love me.” She snorted. “Is that what you were going to say? That’s pretty fucked up. You’re pretty fucked up, if you thought lying like this was going to be okay.”

The ugly words coming from her mouth hurt more than he could have imagined. Like someone was killing his every hope for happiness.

God, he was an idiot.

“I’m so sorry.” He sat on his old bed, remembering how only an hour ago he’d thought of seducing her in here. It felt like years had tumbled past. “I know it sounds like a load of crap right now, but I’ve been worried about this for weeks, trying to figure out how to tell you. I kept making excuses for myself, but I wasn’t being fair to you.”

She flipped her hair back. He wished he could convince her to sit with him and hash things out, but trying to make her sit with him would probably just make him seem like more of a spoiled, rich asshat. He had to show her that he wasn’t like that. But how?

“So what you’re telling me is that I didn’t actually fall in love with you. I fell in love with a lying, manipulative, rich guy.”

He could feel her pulling away from him like a physical sensation, even though they weren’t touching. It made him cold.

So the fact that he’d done the best with the cards he’d been dealt in life made him automatically evil? Sure, the lies he’d told her had been wrong. He wasn’t proud of himself for that. But she was judging him based on a stereotype of what some people with money were like. This was what he’d been avoiding all along. He wasn’t the monster she thought he was, and neither were his friends. They were just regular guys who’d worked hard and been lucky. All three of them had given up dreams to do what it took to help support their families. Yes, he deserved her anger for the lies, but he didn’t deserve the stereotype. Hadn’t he shown her he was one of the good guys?

“I’m the same person, Everly. Only one thing has changed. This is why I was so afraid to tell you. My money doesn’t make me the enemy.”

Her gaze was hard. Determined. Had the love there all been a lie? She’d gone from adoration to loathing in the course of a short conversation. Real love forgave, didn’t it?

“You’re right. Having money doesn’t make you the enemy. But the lies make you disposable.” A wall had gone up between them, and the final stone had been set in place. She was done with him, and anything else he said would be used against him.

“I love you, Everly.” He thought of the collar he’d had made for her, and how he’d hoped there would be so much more between them. Permanence. A love like his parents had, but possibly even deeper because of the extra bond they shared.

Everly turned her back on him.

She left the room without a backward glance. By the time he was calm enough to follow, she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Everly popped a piece of her mom’s famous peanut butter–chocolate fudge into her mouth. Then two pieces. Then three.

“Everly!” her mother scolded. “Stop eating your feelings.”

Scowling at her mom, she said, “I can’t help it,” but it came out more like “I ant el it.”

The six-year-old kneeling on the floor giggled. She winked at him then checked if his dad was watching before tossing him a piece. By the chocolate smeared on his face, she guessed he’d already had a lot, but if her mom was serious about the little guy’s dad, it wouldn’t hurt to get in good with him.

Liam took the chocolate and grinned. They were becoming friends already. Everly and her mom had spent a lot of quiet holidays together over the years. It was nice having a kid around to make Christmas magical again. And it was a distraction she sorely needed.

Jimmy sauntered into the living room, carrying a beer. He stopped short when he spotted his son. Liam’s eyes widened and, panicked, he pointed at Everly.

She shook her head and tsked. “Way to rat me out, kid.”

Her mom’s boyfriend chuckled and set his beer on the coffee table before taking a seat on the recliner opposite the couch. “And here I thought you’d be a good role model.” Jimmy wore ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a Homer Simpson saying. He had a beer gut and overgrown hair, but his eyes were kind and he looked at Everly’s mother like she was a goddess.

“I’m usually a fine, upstanding citizen,” Everly mumbled. “I swear.”

Her mom followed with a tray of more desserts. “She just had her heart broken.”

At the word “heart” she felt herself deflate like an old balloon. Her heart was worse than broken. It was crushed into a million tiny pieces then mashed to dust. It’d never be put back together. There wasn’t enough glue in the world.

She’d put on a brave front for dinner, pretending nothing happened so she didn’t scare poor Jimmy away. Her mom seemed over the moon for this guy. She didn’t want to come across as sullen baggage.

Narrowing her eyes at her mother, she picked up a cookie from the plate she’d just brought out. But all the cookies and chocolate in the world weren’t making her feel better.

“What happened?” Jimmy asked. “Some boy leave you on Christmas? I’ll have a talk with him if you like.” His idea of “a talk” seemed like it might involve rope and a shotgun.

Mouth too full of cookie to answer, she watched her mom take over, dreading the turn it was taking. “She just found out her boyfriend’s rich.”

“Oh.” He nodded for a moment, then the words seemed to sink in. “Wait. What?”

She took a swig of the champagne she’d poured herself earlier to clear her mouth. “It’s not that he’s rich. Don’t make me sound so shallow.” She wasn’t shallow. It wasn’t about that, really. “It’s that he lied. For a long time! How can I trust him? He says he’s different, but he’s acting just like every other rich person we’ve ever known.”

She expected her mom to agree, but Lysette had been dodging giving an opinion on this since she’d cried to her last night after the party. “Now, don’t drag me into this. I’ve met some very nice rich people.”

Everly rolled her eyes, but at the same time, seeds of doubt had been planted in her mind and started to grow. Her whole life, she’d been angry at their family, working against the one percent, convinced they were the enemy—most of them, not all. But not only had she fallen in love with one, but through him, she’d met others who’d just . . . gotten lucky. Was it fair to blame them?

“You can’t be like this forever, hon. You can’t wear this chip on your shoulder your whole life or you’ll miss out on good things that could come your way.” She gave her a candid look. “Like this boy, Ambrosia.”

“Ambrose.”

“Whatever. It’s a strange name.”

She snorted. “Says the woman who named her daughter Everly.”

“See? Another reason you two belong together!”

“Mom,” she warned. If she hadn’t numbed herself with alcohol earlier, she’d still be a crying mess right now. But she’d done enough of that last night. And then again in the morning. She’d cried so hard she’d run out of tears, and even hours later her face felt puffy and her chest ached.