Here Lies a Saint (Here Lies #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,71
the little sniffles, I wouldn’t have known she was crying.
“I miss you, too. All of you.”
All of you. Not me, Lux, no. All of us.
It’s something I’m not entirely emotionally ready for. For one, she doesn’t know about Jordan. Two, she doesn’t know about Ross’s feelings for me. Three, she doesn’t even know who the twins are.
“I fucked Jordan.” My words slip free, and she freezes. I realize now my fuck up. There’s a chance someone heard and will tell anyone in the Vestige.
Being gay is a death sentence.
Her head turns up to me. Beautiful tears kiss her lips as confusion caresses her tongue. She starts to say a word, but it doesn’t come to fruition, as if the speech has been stripped of her.
She blinks.
Twice.
Three times.
Her face redden in the cheeks, giving her pale complexion a porcelain glow.
“You what?”
“You heard me. It’s not safe to repeat.”
There isn’t disgust in her tone, posture, or even facial expressions, but she’s definitely baffled. Out of us all, it’s me who should be the last to fool around with Jordan. He’s a prick. That’s a fact, but he’s soft underneath the facade. I can tell.
“Say something,” I nearly beg, hearing the break in my voice.
She closes her eyes, and it takes several seconds for her to open them again. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?” My incredulous tone has her smiling. It’s small and nearly timid but there all the same.
“Yes, Lux. Am I supposed to hate you for wanting him when I want you all?”
A stuttering breath threatens to knock me on my ass as she grabs my palm and cradles her face with it.
“You’re not mad?”
She shakes her head with a small laugh. “If it was anyone but you guys, yes. Since it’s one of the guys, absolutely not.”
Somehow, a weight lifts off my shoulders. She accepts me. Something not even some of the closest people in my life will acknowledgge, she takes with ease.
“Don’t be so shocked,” she teases, shutting my apparently open jaw.
“I’m just stunned.”
“I’m not them, Lux,” she explains, gripping my face in her hands. “You’re valid to me.”
My eyes prick, and the emotion practically knocks me over.
“I don’t know what to say,” I nearly whimper, hearing more cracks in my voice than a dropped photo frame.
“Don’t say anything. Just let me accept you, and we’ll keep it between us.”
I stare at the girl I’ve taunted for the last eight months, wishing I’d have been a better man.
“Colton,” a manly voice hollers from behind me. I’m not sure who it is because the voice doesn’t sound familiar whatsoever.
She doesn’t flinch at him, so he must be a friend. But a friend in this estate means little.
Twisting my head, I see a broad-shouldered man with a five o’clock shadow. He looks insanely familiar, and the longer I stare at him, the more my mind tugs at a memory.
“Lennox DeLeon,” the guys sounds out, staring directly at me.
Him knowing my name isn’t exactly news, but it rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s the fact that he calls Corpse by her nickname and not her full name. Maybe it’s because he’s tall, dark-haired, and handsome. Maybe it’s the fact that I trust no one.
Whether one, two, or three, I only offer a glower.
He smirks at me. It overtakes his face in a weirdly maniacal way. “Don’t remember me, DeLeon?”
Turning full to his approaching form, I adjust my suit and tie, making sure to seem as well put as possible.
“Am I supposed to?” For some reason, I know I should.
“Parris Marchetti.”
Marchetti.
Marchetti.
Marchetti.
The name rumbles throughout my veins, thumping wildly. Erratic beats make my breath feel labored when I haven’t moved. I suck in air as much as I can because Marchettis aren’t alive to the world. They’re dead. Much like the Grims, they were erased.
Is he one of them?
The forgotten, replaced, and erased.
He waits for my words, but my mind can’t even focus on one thing let alone my mouth.
“Cat got your tongue? It hasn’t been that long.”
That long?
Do I truly know him?
My mind repeats his name over and over, forgetting the Marchetti bit just for a moment. “Valridge?”
A coy smile overtakes his face.
Colt tugs on my blazer. “Who is he?” she whispers loudly.
“Besides your bodyguard?” he muses. “I used to be the fly-half and Lux lost his final game last year to me.”
“Y-you played with Cassidy?” Colt asks, her voice along with her body trembling.
I want to comfort her, tell her it’s alright, touch her and remind her that it’s okay to feel.