Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,89

the clean-cut kind of guys. The ones my parents pick for me, in their plush, corporate offices or high-society garden parties. The ones who crawl up my father’s ass and die there. The ones who bring luxury cars to be fixed—not the ones who actually fix them.

If I’d had a choice, I would’ve run away with Sawyer. I would’ve gone through with our plan to get away from the family business. I never in a million years would have accepted my father’s job offer. I would have done it the hard way with Sawyer. Started our own landscape architecture business, just like we talked about.

Away from the money, from the overbearing parents, from the reputation.

But what Sawyer doesn’t get is I didn’t have a choice. He’s never understood that. Never even tried. He thought I was a flake, a backstabber, a fleck of dirty pond scum.

I. Had. No. Choice.

Sawyer left in a huff with silly, unrealistic ideas about what life should be like, and he didn’t stop to think about what life really is.

Me?

My feet are firmly planted in the real world. I know that my sister needs me. My nephew needs me. I’m the only one who can make sure she and her son, Roman, have what they need.

When Lucy got pregnant at seventeen, I knew my parents wouldn’t approve. I knew they’d kick her out. The only way I could keep food on her table was by staying in the soul-sucking, money-hungry world my parents built. With their job offer and way-above-average salary, I could make money and take care of Lucy.

It was a choice, and I still think I made the right one.

She needs money. Her kid needs money. And that means I need to earn it.

I, unlike my brother, have realistic values. Once Lucy got pregnant, I couldn’t leave. Call me a flake, a lying, weak Machiavelli, but I stand by what I did. The end justifies the means.

The end, in my case, is a sister with a roof over her head and a nephew with a decent shot at a good life.

Coming to Woodvale and buying up this garage is an olive branch. A way for me to provide for Sawyer, too. A way to stitch this broken family back together again, because even if Sawyer abandoned us, I’ll never abandon him.

He might hate me, but I still believe that once he knows the truth about what happened, he’ll forgive me.

He has to.

But judging on Benji’s reception, that olive branch is currently being doused in gasoline, lit on fire, and thrown back in my face.

I square off in front of the mechanic, jutting my chin out and forcing myself to meet his gaze. Baby blue, with little specks of green. His eyes are deep as the ocean and just as captivating.

Benji is the opposite of what my parents would like. He works with his hands, and he’s proud of it. He doesn’t like the fact that I’m a rich girl from the big city entering his domain.

But the twisted, dark part of me likes the heat of his gaze right now. It snakes through my body, brushing against the base of my spine and lighting my nerve endings on fire.

Be mad, I want to scream. Hate me.

Hatred is so much better than the false flattery I have to endure back home. At least it’s honest.

He huffs a breath out, glancing at the luxury vehicle behind me. The contempt is written all over his face.

I wish this wasn’t the way things were, either, I want to tell him. I only bought this place because my duty to my sister forced me to change my life plans. I’m here because I refuse to give up on her, on my nephew, and on Sawyer. I refuse to let my family disintegrate.

I have to be here, in this dirty garage, with a mechanic who hates me, because I care more about Lucy and Sawyer than I do about myself.

So, I’m stuck in this small town with nothing to do but have angry staring contests with a hot grease monkey.

Such is life.

It could be worse.

Benji arches an eyebrow. “I’m guessing that wasn’t quite the dramatic exit you were hoping for.”

“Can you fix it?” I snap.

I don’t mean to be so short with him. I like the way Benji stares at me. He has sharp eyes and full lips. A strand of hair falls across his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it back. Neither of us moves.

“You’re used to