The sad thing was Reece had it all wrong.

We hadn’t even gotten to the point where slot A fit into slot B. We hadn’t had sex that night. He’d barely made it to the bedroom before passing out, and I had stayed with him because I’d been worried and I thought . . . it didn’t matter what I thought, because we hadn’t had sex.

Chapter 4

What was worse than Reece thinking we had sex and regretting what never happened? And seriously, what could be more messed up than that? Reece Anders despised lies of any kind. White lies. Little lies. Necessary lies. Forgiving lies. Any lies.

Mine was kind of a white lie since I never said we had sex, I just never said we didn’t. Even though he’d known me since I was fifteen, he’d been there during the aftermath of what happened to Charlie, and the first night back from being in the Marines for four years, he’d shown up at my parents’ house. To this day, Mom swore he’d been looking for me, but our families had grown close, so I doubted that was the case. I’d moved out at eighteen and I wasn’t there, but when my parents called and demanded that I come home, I’d been expecting something terrible, because Mom sounded like she’d been seconds from stroking out. I had no idea Reece was home, and he gave me . . . oh wow, the best hug ever. And in spite of the friendship we’d built since he became a deputy in the county, he would be so pissed.

His absolute hatred of lying had started way before I’d met him and had to do with his father. I didn’t know the details, but I figured it involved cheating since he’d moved in with his mom and stepdad while his father was a serial dater.

So, yeah, lying to Reece equaled shitstorm of the century.

Reece stared down at me, waiting for a response, and I didn’t have any. So many times during the last eleven months I wanted to shout the truth in his face. That we hadn’t had sex, but the hurt he created based on the way he’d acted that following morning, then ignoring me for weeks was compounded by the fact he had to get so drunk for him to think he had sex with me. The pain had cut deep.

I was embarrassed—­horrified, really—­and if Charlie were aware of the situation, he probably would’ve smacked me upside the head. Because I should’ve known better, but I hadn’t and I had paid for that in spades. Days passed while I was under the influence of an ice-­cream coma. Weeks when I thought I’d burst into tears whenever I heard his name mentioned. For months, I couldn’t look at Reece without my face turning blood red.

And that hurt had lingered.

Gathering up that pain and humiliation, I held it close as I drew in a deep breath that sharpened my tongue. “Like I said, Reece, there’s really nothing to talk about. I barely even remember that night myself.” Lies! All lies! I forced a shrug. “Nothing to write home about.”