The Lies We Tell (The Four #1) - Becca Steele Page 0,73

any of you.”

He suddenly reached out and pulled me into a tight hug, kissing the top of my head, before releasing me. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Cass.” I watched him jog away from me, then, shaking off the TA’s weird behaviour, I focused on the task at hand.

After going back to my apartment to change into a black wool dress, thick tights, and flat black ankle boots, and wolfing down a quick lunch, I met Cass, and he dropped me in the centre of Alstone outside an elegant white building with a pillared entrance and a smart black door, which was open. “The Wilson Lounge” was engraved in a small plaque next to the door, above an old-fashioned brass doorbell.

Inside I was greeted by a hostess in a crisp white shirt and black skirt, who led me to a small round table covered in a white cloth, next to a tall sash window. As I sat down to wait for my mother, my phone vibrated, Weston’s name flashing across the screen.

West: Just heard from the garage. Your car’s delayed by another day. Sorry.

Me: It’s OK. It’s not your fault. I can wait an extra day.

West: You’ve got more patience than me.

Me: Says the person who’s been waiting over 6 months for his dream car.

West: *laughing emoji* True. Some things are worth the wait.

A throat cleared, and my nose was hit by a waft of expensive floral perfume. I dragged my gaze upwards to see my mother eyeing me with disapproval.

Me: Got to go.

I stood and greeted her, both of us with forced politeness—my mother, constantly aware of the presence and hushed conversation of those around us, her eyes darting around the room, and me, because I needed to dig for information.

After we’d ordered coffees, she leaned forwards in her chair, clasping her hands together on top of the tablecloth.

“Did you have a reason for wanting to meet with me today?”

I made a snap decision to go with a direct approach.

“I just wanted to ask you when you last saw my dad.” I kept an innocent, bland expression on my face as I continued. “He was going to visit you the day I left for university, wasn’t he? I’m sure that’s what he’d planned to do, anyway.”

“I don’t recall the last time I saw him. Not since I married Arlo.” Her eyes met mine, glacial and completely devoid of emotion.

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