Beautiful Lies (The Beautiful Series Book 2)

  Beautiful Lies

  Emery Rose

  Copyright © 2018 Emery Rose

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Editing: Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  Interior Formatting: Jessica Ames Book Formatting

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious or have been used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For my sister, Kathleen. I’m so damn lucky to have you in my life. You’re the real MVP.

  Playlist

  “Unsteady” - X Ambassadors

  “I Can’t Go On Without You” - Kaleo

  “Colors” - Halsey

  “Us” - James Bay

  “83 Days” - Wafia

  “Scars” - James Bay

  “Rocket Man” - Elton John

  “Exit Wounds” - The Script

  “Pretty When You Cry” - Lana Del Rey

  “Bitter Sweet Symphony” - The Verve

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Connor

  2. Ava

  3. Ava

  4. Connor

  5. Connor

  6. Ava

  7. Connor

  8. Connor

  9. Ava

  10. Connor

  11. Ava

  12. Connor

  13. Ava

  14. Connor

  15. Ava

  16. Connor

  17. Connor

  18. Ava

  19. Connor

  20. Ava

  21. Connor

  22. Ava

  23. Ava

  24. Connor

  25. Ava

  26. Ava

  27. Connor

  28. Connor

  29. Ava

  30. Ava

  Epilogue

  Also by Emery Rose

  Preview of Beneath Your Beautiful

  Acknowledgments

  Connect with Emery

  Prologue

  I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and climbed the ladder to the top bunk. “Watch me fly, Kill. I’m Captain Courageous.”

  Killian snorted as he pulled on his pajama top. “You’re Captain Stupid.”

  “Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” I said. “No. It’s Connor the Wonder Boy.” I leaped from the top bunk and for about a second, I really felt like I could fly. Then the ground rushed up to meet me and I landed with a loud thud. All the air got knocked out of my lungs. I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball. “I can’t breathe,” I wheezed.

  “You’re an idiot,” Killian said, cracking up.

  “Them’s fightin’ words,” I said, lunging at him. He dodged out of the way and I crashed into the dresser, making him laugh even harder. For some reason, I laughed with him. We were cracking up so hard, tears sprang to my eyes. We stopped laughing when we heard the heavy footsteps in the hallway.

  “Get in the closet,” Killian said.

  “No.” I crossed my arms and widened my stance, like I’d seen Killian do.

  He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me into the closet. “Stay in there and don’t come out until I say so,” he warned before he shut the door, leaving me in the darkness, in a space where I couldn’t breathe for real. My stomach churned as I heard the bedroom door opening.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed. What the hell’s going on up here?” Seamus asked, slurring his words. He’d been drinking Jack Daniels tonight. Maybe he’d just leave and that would be the end of it. I folded my hands in prayer and silently prayed, my lips moving but no sound coming out of my mouth. “Where’s your brother?”

  “Asleep.”

  He wouldn’t bother checking. He never did. Our dad didn’t really give a shit about me. He’d said so more times than I could count. He called me a sorry excuse for a son and all kinds of other things, none of them good.

  “I’m going to bed now,” Killian said. “Go back to your TV and whiskey.”

  Killian. Keep your big mouth shut.

  “You think you can tell me what to do, boy?”

  I heard the sound of bones crunching followed by a grunt from Killian. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to block out the sound of Seamus’ punches. Killian’s grunts. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t run. He would just stand there and take it until Seamus was done treating him like a human punching bag.

  I’m sorry, Killian. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  “That’s the best you could do?” Killian asked, and then he was laughing. Like an idiot. Why did he have to poke the bear?

  I heard Seamus’ fist hit Killian’s body and the sound of Killian crashing to the ground. The floor underneath me vibrated from the impact.

  “You’re moving into your own room this weekend. You’re too old to share a room. You hear me, boy?”

  Killian didn’t answer.

  He probably couldn’t. I wanted to burst out of the closet and fly at Seamus, pummel him with my fists. Make him bleed. Make him feel the pain. But my puny fists would bounce right off him. He wouldn’t feel a thing.

  Someday, I would take the punches for Killian. I’d be his superhero.

  And someday, I’d make sure Seamus paid for everything he did to us.

  I heard the door close behind Seamus and counted to ten before I opened the closet door. Killian was doubled over, an arm wrapped around his ribs. I crouched next to him and put my hand on his back.

  Killian lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine for a split second, long enough for me to see his busted lip and the bruise already forming beneath his right eye. He swept his tongue over his lip, catching the blood before it dripped onto the moss green carpet.

  “You should have told him it was my fault,” I said.

  “It makes no difference.”

  Killian was right. It didn’t matter if we were good or bad. On nights like this, the end result was always the same. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait a little longer,” he said, wincing as he got to his feet, weaving a little. I grabbed his arm to steady him and helped him over to the bottom bunk.

  Then I tiptoed to our bedroom door, put my ear against it and listened. Downstairs, I could hear the TV, an announcer’s voice talking about the bad things going on in the world. I eased the door open and checked the hallway. It was safe. Safe. I almost laughed out loud at that thought. But I wouldn’t.

  I knew how to be quiet, so quiet, as I crept down the hallway, avoiding the squeaky floorboards that might give me away. It had been months since Seamus had done this, but the routine was the same.

  I ran a washcloth under the water, gathered my supplies from the bathroom cabinet and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  I cleaned up Killian’s face as best as I could while he lay on the bottom bunk with his eyes closed. “Can you sit up?” I asked.

  “Just leave it.”

  “The tape makes it better. You said so last time.”

  He sighed and got into a sitting position, his jaw clenched to fight the pain and keep from crying out. I helped him out of his pajama top then wrapped his ribs with the surgical tape. Firm but gentle so I didn’t hurt him any more than he already was. I tried to patch up all the cracks. Hold his broken body together. Like always, Killian didn’t even flinch.

 
When I finished, he lay down on the bottom bunk and I returned the supplies to the bathroom, rinsing the blood from the washcloth before I tossed it in the hamper. Sometimes I thought I should hang the bloody washcloth in Seamus’ room so he could see it first thing in the morning when he woke up, not drunk anymore. But that would be like waving a red flag at a bull.

  I climbed into the top bunk and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck on the ceiling a few months ago. Mrs. Garcia, our babysitter, gave them to me for my seventh birthday. I’d pointed them out to her in a shop one time and she’d remembered. When I’d first stuck them on the ceiling, I’d been disappointed that you couldn’t even see them. Turned out that stars needed darkness to shine.

  “We need to tell someone,” I said.

  “Who you gonna tell?”

  I’d been over this in my head about a million times. My thoughts kept me up at night. I had too many of them racing through my head. Sometimes I couldn’t slow them down.

  “Mrs. Garcia,” I said.

  She was always nice to us, but she didn’t speak very good English and I doubted she understood half the stuff I said to her. I’d been known to pour out my heart to that woman and was always telling her stories, but all she did was smile and nod. She loved all the pictures I drew for her though and always called them mas bonita which sounded like a good thing. She gave us hugs and sometimes I wished I could just stay wrapped up in those hugs forever. Killian always broke free and said he was too old for hugs, but not me.

  “Maybe I need to learn Spanish, so she’ll understand what I’m saying. Or I could draw her a picture, maybe. Or how about we tell Father Mc—”

  “We’re not telling anyone,” Killian said.

  “But maybe they can help us. Get us out of here.”

  “Nobody will believe us.”

  “They might. We can at least try.”

  “Let’s say someone believed it, you know what would happen to us?”

  Killian was only three and a half years older than me, but sometimes he acted like he was an adult and I was the stupid kid. “What?”

  “Foster care.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you,” I said, even though I wasn’t too sure what foster care was. But the word care gave me hope. “It’s gotta be better than this.”

  “It’s not,” Killian said as if he knew exactly what foster care was like. That was Killian though. He knew a lot of things that most kids didn’t so maybe he did know. “Do you wanna be separated?”

  “We’re brothers. They’ll keep us together.”

  “Just promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut, okay? Keep it between us. Nobody needs to know what goes on in our house.”

  I hated this. I hated the secrets and lies. I hated hiding in the closet like a big fat baby. I hated that there was nothing I could do to help Killian. I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the ache, but it never seemed to go away these days. Sometimes I felt like there were big cracks inside me. Like I broke a little more every time Killian took a punch.

  “Promise me,” he said again.

  I stared at the stars, wishing I could be anywhere but here. There must be something better out there. But if it meant being separated from Killian, I’d keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t a snitch or a tattletale. Not even my friends knew about any of this. “Promise.”

  I heard him exhale as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for me to agree. He had to know I would. I was always on his side and he was always on mine. It was us against the world.

  “Tell me about our mom,” I said a little while later. I’d been thinking about her a lot lately, wondering if she was okay and where she was. If she had enough food and money. “When do you think she’ll come back to get us?”

  “Never. She’s not coming back.”

  “But you said…” I let my words drift off. “Those were just stories then? Like fairy tales? Did you make it all up?”

  Killian didn’t answer.

  “Was she really beautiful?” I asked, clenching my fists. “Was she really nice? Did she love us? Did she tuck us in at night?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “Just tell me the truth. Did she read us bedtime stories? Did she really do all those things, or did you make it all up?” I asked, my voice rising.

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Answer my questions,” I said, through gritted teeth. I dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets to stop the tears. Seamus’ voice played on a loop in my head.

  Boys don’t cry. Stop being a fucking pussy.

  “I don’t know…that’s how I remember it,” Killian said so quietly I had to strain to hear him.

  “Someday I’m gonna find her and we’ll live with her.”

  “Yeah, okay, you do that.”

  I will, I thought. I’ll do that for you. For us. “You keep this room, Kill. I want you to have the stars.”

  He grunted, but he didn’t fight me on it. That was how I knew he wanted the stars but would never admit it.

  1

  Connor

  I am peaceful. I am strong. My past does not define me.

  I repeated my mantra as the needles pierced my skin, digging into scar tissue, and hitting every nerve ending.

  A soft knock came on the door and it opened to reveal Eden, her green eyes shining with tears her smile couldn’t hide.

  Shit. I put those tears in her eyes. “Hey, Connor… Jared.”

  Jared lifted the tattoo needle from my chest and leaned back on his stool, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. He’d been working on me since ten this morning before the shop even opened. Hours to go yet but it was taking its toll on both of us.

  “Hey gorgeous,” Jared said, giving her a big smile.

  “You guys mind if I hang out?” She’d already dragged a stool inside the private room in the back of the shop, so she wasn’t waiting for an answer, but we told her it was cool. She perched on her seat, her tiny shorts showing off her long, tanned legs, an iced coffee clutched in her left hand. The rock on her finger, an emerald surrounded by diamonds that Killian gave her three months ago, sparkled in the light coming through the back window.

  Eden took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “I thought we should be together today. At least for a little while.” Her gaze dipped to my chest. It was the first time she’d seen me bare-chested in a year. A visual reminder of the night four men came seeking retribution.

  “Connor,” she whispered. “Does it hurt?”

  Like a motherfucker. “No more than usual.” It was a lie, and she probably knew it. So did Jared. Tattooing over scars was one of his specialties. He’d wanted me to wait eighteen months to two years, ideally, but I couldn’t wait any longer than I have. I wanted the scars covered. Today.

  “You good?” Jared asked me.

  “Yeah.”

  Jared studied my face for a few seconds before he got back to work.

  “It’s beautiful,” Eden said.

  Eden saw beauty in the ugliness, but I guess she was referring to my design—a colorful Japanese dragon. I’d been chasing that dragon for years, but now the artwork would cover up the carved letters on my chest. SNITCH. Of all the things I’d been called in my life, I never expected to be that person.

  “Tell me a happy story,” I said. Eden was a magician, and I was hoping she’d conjure one up out of thin air.

  “Once upon a time, there was a boy,” she started. “A beautiful boy with dark hair and cerulean eyes. Let’s call him…” She tapped her chin and narrowed her eyes, pretending to think. “Connor Vincent. The boy grew up battling demons and when he got older, he became a dragon slayer. He’s brave and fierce and courageous.”

  “I think you’re mixing up the brothers in this fairy tale.”

  “Oh, well, his brother is all those things, too, but you’re the hero in this story.”

  I was nobody’s hero. “Does this story have a happy ending?” I asked.

/>   “Of course. But first, the hero needs to win back his lady love.”

  My lady love… my first love, my first everything, had kicked me to the curb. She’d waited until I’d physically recovered, three weeks after my father’s funeral, a month after the night that had nearly cost me my life, and Eden and Killian’s lives. Ava told me I made her cry too much. Made her feel too much of everything—the good… but mostly the bad and the ugly.

  “It’s too much, Connor. I can’t handle it anymore. You need to set me free.”

  I couldn’t blame her. It was self-preservation on her part. But it was killing me that she’d moved on with someone new. “She still with Zeke?” I asked as if I didn’t already know. Go on, pour a little salt on my wounds.

  Eden chewed on her lower lip. “Yeah.”

  Zeke was a silver-spoon Ivy league graduate. Ava couldn’t have found anyone more different than me. But then, I guess that was the whole point.

  “You should ask her on a date,” Eden said, taking a sip of her coffee.

  A date. Like that would solve our problems. “You’re saying I should court Ava who is currently screwing your buddy Zeke?” Not to mention Ava wouldn’t even speak to me, let alone accept a date with me.

  Eden tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “They’re more like friends with benefits if you ask me.”

  Benefits I wasn’t currently getting. Not for lack of offers. But the look on Eden’s face when she stared at my chest… yeah, I couldn’t go there.

  Hello, hand, we really need to stop meeting like this.