Don't Lie to Me by Stacey Lynn Page B

before. He looked like shit.
    I didn’t look at him when he raised his head. Instead I turned away from him, walked to the kitchen, and grabbed a cup of coffee, thankful I had remembered to set the pot to brew before I collapsed into my bed. There was a shitstorm coming, I could feel it, and I needed every drop of caffeine I could find. If I could mainline it into my arm, that’d be even better, but my mom always taught that me beggars couldn’t be choosers.
    “Do you want a cup?” I asked Jack, trying to ignore the pacing animal in my living room. He was seething in anger and I hated the tension that filled my tiny apartment.
    My words stopped him instantly and even though I wasn’t looking at him - in fact I was trying to look at anything else besides him as I sipped my cup of coffee – I could feel his darkened eyes on me.
    “No, I don’t want a fucking cup of coffee, Emma.”
    My own anger filled my body at his words. “Fine.”
    I spit it out at him just as angrily as he talked to me, knowing it would only piss him off. I didn’t care in that moment. I was pissed, and my head hurt, and I could barely open my eyes. Plus, I knew that no matter what happened, he wasn’t going to open up to me about anything. There was really nothing to discuss.
    I ignored the anger rolling off him in waves and sat down at my kitchen table, gently setting the coffee mug down and plastered on the most indifferent expression I could fake. He came barging into my apartment early in the morning. He could speak first.
    “I seriously fucking hate that word.” He exhaled loudly and walked to my fireplace, looking at the pictures of Logan and me all over the mantle.
    “Stop saying that,” I scolded and drank my coffee. I meant the f-word, but he probably thought I was mocking him based on how quickly his head spun around and he stalked toward me. I refused to show him how angry and hurt and disappointed I was, though. “I meant ‘fuck’ Jack.”
    He stopped, and roughly ran his hands through his hair before he walked to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. I hid my smile at his concession for a cup of fucking coffee.
    “You weren’t there when I got home.”
    No shit.
    I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows slightly, looking at him from over the edge of my coffee cup that I held with both hands so he couldn’t see them shaking.
    “Did you really expect me to wait?”
    He had the grace to look ashamed for even thinking I would still be there.
    “I’m not going to wait around for you to screw me when you’re pissed at someone else, Jack. I deserve more than that.”
    And there it was. I needed more than he could give me, and we both knew it. I watched his anger subside slightly and his tense expression soften. The muscles in his neck and chest loosened as he sat down at the chair across from me. He leaned back in his chair and silently drank his coffee. I was almost surprised he didn’t just walk away right there.
    Finally he set his coffee down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I told you I’d fuck this up, Emma.”
    “You did. And I’m not as upset at what you said, it was how you said it and what you didn’t say.”
    “I told you. I don’t talk about Brian.”
    I lost my ability to bite back my snark. “He has a name today?”
    Jack looked at me intensely. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or frustrated. Whatever it was, it left me speechless. I shut my mouth and went back to drinking my coffee while I tried to ignore the gorgeous brown eyes and scruffy haired sexy man across from me. I chided myself silently. I was pissed at him, and yet I wanted nothing more than to gaze into those eyes for the rest of the day. I hated the contradicting feelings inside me.
    I refilled my coffee cup, still ignoring the growing tension when Jack finally spoke. I froze instantly, not at all expecting his explanation.
    “We’re not really brothers.”
    I calmly set my hands in my lap, and waited,