The Lies We Tell (The Four 1)

Lies.

I knew she’d met my dad—because he’d sent me the text to say so. He had no reason to lie to me, and the only reason she’d be lying right now is if she had something to hide.

Dredging up every bit of self-control I could, I kept my voice even and my posture relaxed. “Did you ever hear anything from him?”

“Winter. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him for a very long time. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but your father and I didn’t part on the best of terms, and our relationship never recovered.”

We were interrupted by the waitress with our coffees, and my mother jumped on the chance to change the subject.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you regarding your relationship with your stepbrother.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly as she stared at me.

“Which one?”

“The eldest. Caiden,” she said, as if I wasn’t aware of who she was talking about. “I’ve heard some distasteful rumours that there may be something going on between the two of you. I want you to keep your distance. I shouldn’t have to remind you, but he’s your stepbrother. And, my dear, that boy is nothing but trouble.”

I bristled. “Really? In what way is he trouble, exactly? Please, enlighten me.” Shut up shut up shut up. Why was I provoking her?

She delicately sipped her coffee and threw me a disdainful glance. “Don’t insult my intelligence by playing stupid, dear. He’s rotten to the core. In and out of trouble ever since he was a child. It’s no wonder his mother took her own life, with a son like that.”

What. The. Fuck.

I reeled back, stunned, suddenly short of breath. There was a loud ringing in my ears, and spots danced in front of my eyes.

“Winter! Winter!” I blinked, the room coming back into focus as my mother’s face appeared in front of me. “You’re causing a scene,” she hissed.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I wiped my sweating palms on my napkin and tried my best to get my erratic breathing under control. Swallowing hard, I met her gaze. “What did you say about his mother?”

“She took her own life.”

My heart lurched in my chest. “That’s awful. I’m so—”

“Coward.”

“Excuse me?”

“She was a coward.”

“Tell me you did not just say that!” My mouth dropped open in shock. “How fucking dare you call her a coward! She must have really needed help, help that she never got, to feel that was her only way out. Bloody hell, Mother, your heartlessness astounds me.”

I lurched to my feet, shaking with rage and staring down at her. She stared back, not even a flicker of remorse in her gaze. “I’m leaving, before I say something we both regret.”

“Don’t tell Weston. Arlo and Caiden don’t want him to know. Poor boy,” she tutted with faux sympathy.

I have never, in my entire life, wanted to punch someone, but at that moment in time, I wanted to break her fucking emotionless face. I whirled around and stormed out of the building, gasps and scandalised whispers following me.

I had to get away from her toxic presence.

I ran.

Eventually, lungs burning, I sank to the ground where I was, away from the buildings, supporting my back against a crumbling brick wall. Rifling through the contents of my bag for my phone, I pulled it out and scrolled through the contacts.

I pressed his name before I could even think it through. I needed to hear his voice.

The phone rang and rang, and eventually his voicemail kicked in. I whimpered, ending the call and dialling Cassius instead.

“Winter?”

A choked sob escaped my throat. I couldn’t speak.