These Dirty Lies Read online

  THESE DIRTY LIES

  A DARLING HILL DUET: BOOK ONE

  L A COTTON

  Published by Delesty Books

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  THESE DIRTY LIES

  Copyright © L. A. Cotton 2022

  All rights reserved.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

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  Edited by Andrea M. Long

  Proofread by Sisters Get Lit.erary Author Services

  Cover Designed by The Pretty Little Design Co.

  CONTENTS

  1. Harleigh

  2. Nix

  3. Harleigh

  4. Nix

  5. Harleigh

  6. Nix

  7. The Past

  8. Harleigh

  9. Nix

  10. Harleigh

  11. Nix

  12. Harleigh

  13. Nix

  14. Harleigh

  15. Nix

  16. The Past

  17. Harleigh

  18. Nix

  19. Harleigh

  20. Nix

  21. Harleigh

  22. Nix

  23. The Past

  24. Harleigh

  25. Nix

  26. Harleigh

  27. Nix

  28. The Past

  29. Harleigh

  30. Nix

  31. The Past

  32. Harleigh

  33. Nix

  34. Harleigh

  35. Nix

  36. Harleigh

  37. Harleigh

  Playlist

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

  EMILY BRONTE

  Harleigh

  “Hey, I thought I’d find you up here.” Celeste joined me on the roof terrace, choosing the egg-shaped chair. “How are you feeling?”

  “Will you believe me if I say fine?” My brow quirked up, and she chuckled.

  “Nope, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “God, I love it up here.” A sigh escaped me.

  It was the only place where I could breathe. The highest point in the house with an incredible view of Old Darling Hill. The lights of the town twinkled in the distance, like the stars winking above us.

  “I think you’d live up here if you could.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  The house on the edge of Old Darling Hill was practically palatial with its gated access, long winding driveway, and perfectly tended lawns. It reminded me of a small-scale White House, fronted with pristine alabaster columns and rows and rows of symmetrical windows. It was grand and beautiful and the epitome of the American dream.

  But it wasn’t my dream.

  Instead, it was a nightmare I’d found myself trapped in. A warped reality where I was supposed to forget about my Darling Row upbringing.

  I shut down those thoughts. It never did me any good going back to that time of my life. Those memories.

  I wasn’t that girl anymore.

  My life was with my father and his wife Sabrina now and their children: my half-sister Celeste and her brother Max. Michael was my guardian, this mansion my prison.

  “Are you ready for school on Monday?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” I admitted.

  Celeste made it easy. Too easy sometimes. I liked her a lot. She was kind and funny and she didn’t take herself too seriously, which was a small miracle given that she was half Michael Rowe and half Sabrina Delacorte. But their icy cold genes had obviously skipped their firstborn, passing Celeste and planting themselves firmly in Max. He was barely sixteen and one of the meanest kids I’d ever met.

  And I’d gone to a school full of mean kids before being ripped from my life and implanted here.

  “DA isn’t so bad, you’ll see.”

  DA: Darling Academy, my new school starting Monday.

  Celeste gave me a reassuring smile. “At least I can show you around. And I’m sure Nate will be happy to—”

  “I’d rather not talk about Nate Miller.”

  He’d been one of the first people to approach me at the mixer last month with his smug smirk and cocky attitude. It was my first ‘appearance’ at one of my father’s events. What a disaster that had been.

  “You mean you aren’t fooled by his dashing charm and riveting conversation?” She rolled her eyes playfully. “The guy is a douchebag.”

  “Kind of? He tried to feel me up the first time we met.”

  “Is that why you stabbed him with the fork?”

  “I didn’t stab him… it slipped.”

  “Slipped, right.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re so bad, Harleigh.”

  I managed a small smile in return. It wasn’t like I went out of my way to be bad. But these people were… so not my people. Celeste was okay. She wasn’t driven by how much money daddy had in the bank or who was wearing the latest designer label. She was normal. Well, as normal as you could be when your parents were filthy rich.

  “I wish you were a senior too.” I let out a heavy sigh, staring out at the view. The Rowe estate had a natural perimeter marked by the tree line. I’d spent weeks dreaming of escaping over the fence and making a run for it. Of course, my father’s housekeeper and security guy had been briefed to ‘keep an eye out for me.’

  Everyone knew I was a flight risk. That one way or another, I was determined to leave this place. But that was before… Now it was different.

  I was different.

  At least, that’s what everyone thought. That's what I let everyone believe.

  They thought I’d been fixed. That the months and months of pills and therapy and time had cured me.

  “We might have a class or two together. I’m taking some AP classes.”

  Celeste was smart, like MENSA smart. But she didn’t flaunt it. In fact, she tried everything she could not to draw attention to the fact she was basically a teenage genius.

  “I can’t believe we have to wear a uniform,” I said.

  “It isn’t so bad. At least you won’t have the headache of deciding what to wear every morning.”

  “I guess.” I got up and went to the glass balustrade, running my fingers along the polished chrome handrail. The balmy air kissed my skin as I tilted my face to the night sky.

  For as long as I could remember I’d always loved the nighttime. There was something beautiful about when the world went to sleep, and darkness reigned. Even now, I felt more grounded once the sun had set than I did at any other time of the day.

  Sabrina called me a night owl, but it was more than that—the strange affinity I had with the dark.

  “It’s late. I should probably turn in before Mom comes looking for me. You’ll be okay?”

  “I’m fine. Go. I’d hate for Sabrina to catch you up here again.”

  “Ignore her. We’re sisters.” Celeste shrugged. “Nothing she does or says is going to change that. I want you here, Harleigh.”

  “Thanks.” My smile didn’t reach my eyes. It never did these days.

  “See you tomorrow. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  Celeste went inside, leaving me alone. Sometimes, I didn’t know what I would do without her. She was the only thing that made this—being here in this strange place—bearable. God only knows, it wasn’t being reunited with my father. If you could even call
it a reunion. I’d barely seen the man since returning from Albany Hills a month ago.

  I exhaled a long breath, gripping the handrail tighter. Sometimes, I sat up here and stared out into the distance, trying to see past the trees and the town, all the way past the reservoir right to Darling Row, the trailer park where I’d grown up.

  If this house was the epitome of the American dream, The Row was the place dreams went to die. But it had been more to me than this place ever would be.

  It had been home.

  And I knew why. It always came back to him.

  With Phoenix by my side, it hadn’t felt that bad at all.

  Phoenix Wilder.

  My best friend. The boy who had owned a piece of my heart since I was old enough to know what giving your heart to a boy meant.

  There was a time I’d thought he would be mine. That we’d survive The Row, life, together. But that was the funny thing about dreams… they either came true, or in my case, they went up in flames.

  Phoenix Wilder had been everything to me.

  Until he wasn’t.

  Until he’d left me when I’d needed him most.

  And now he was like everything else in my life that had existed before my father brought me here.

  Gone.

  “Harleigh,” Sabrina’s usual harsh greeting made me bristle, but I swallowed the urge to bite back at her as I joined her in the kitchen.

  I’d tried it once, in the early days of being here, and she’d almost cracked enamel, gritting her teeth at me like a caged animal.

  If there was one thing Sabrina Delacorte-Rowe did not tolerate, it was a lack of respect.

  If you asked me, she needed to remove the giant stick from up her ass. But when you had more money than sense, it gave you license to treat people like objects apparently. Although I was pretty sure she treated most of her expensive vases and favorite sculptures far more delicately than she did her own children.

  “Good morning,” I said flatly.

  “Were you out on the roof terrace again last night?”

  “I didn’t know it was a problem with me going up there.”

  “It isn’t. But you really should tidy up after yourself.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Harleigh.” She let out an indignant sigh, scowling at me. “You need to try to fit in here. I know things haven’t been… easy, but you are a part of this family now and I expect you to cooperate.”

  Cooperate.

  I detested that word.

  A word the staff at Albany Hills loved to band around.

  We need you to cooperate, Harleigh.

  Do you feel like cooperating today, Miss Maguire?

  You know, Harleigh, this would go an awful lot easier if you just cooperated.

  I shook off those memories: the voices, the intrusive dark thoughts, and centered myself with a therapeutic breath. Inhale slow and deep through my nose, hold, and exhale slowly through my mouth.

  In through the nose, out through the mouth.

  In through the nose, out through the—

  “Harleigh?” Sabrina clicked her fingers and I blinked.

  “S-sorry, I’m a little tired.” I yawned for effect.

  “So… will you?” She glowered at me.

  “Will I what?”

  “Cooperate. Will you try to fit in here and cooperate, Harleigh? Really,” she muttered, “it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

  Brick wall. Nice.

  Although she had a point. But I couldn’t help it. Sabrina wasn’t interested in my diagnosis. In her eyes, it was a cry for attention.

  I could see myself, staring at her, gawking. Wondering what made her so… so cold. Was it something that happened in her past? Were her parents as absent as mine had been? Did she grow up desperate for attention? Craving affection? Did she—

  “Harleigh.” She slammed her hand down on the counter, making the fruit in the crystal bowl clatter.

  Flinching, I forced out, “Cooperate, right. Got it.” I ran a hand through my lifeless brown hair.

  Her lips pursed, but Max’s arrival saved me from yet another one of his mom’s tirades. “Mom,” he said, turning his attention to me. “Weirdo.”

  He made a beeline for the refrigerator, and I flipped him off behind Sabrina’s back.

  “Maximilian, I hope you’re going to refrain from using the pool as your own personal hangout today.”

  “I had three friends over, Mom. Three. You need to relax a little.”

  “Yes, well.” She cleared her throat as if the idea was too ridiculous to comprehend. “You left quite the mess. Mrs. Beaker was out there for hours cleaning up after you.”

  “I’m sixteen, Mom. A kid, remember. It’s what we do.” He shot me a knowing smirk, and I scowled back.

  ‘Weirdo,’ Max mouthed.

  ‘Douchebag,’ I countered.

  Sabrina’s head whipped around to me, her perfectly made up face barely cracking. “Did you say something, Harleigh?”

  “Who me? Nope.” I grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “I’ll pass on breakfast. If anyone needs me, I’ll be on the roof.”

  “Do us all a favor and jump,” Max called after me.

  “Bite me.” I flipped him off over my shoulder, only part hoping Sabrina wasn’t watching.

  Her silence suggested she wasn’t.

  By the time I reached the roof terrace, exhaustion had settled heavy in my bones. Verbal sparring with Sabrina and Max usually did that to me. But no one would bother me up here.

  I sat in the swinging egg chair and inhaled a deep, calming breath. It was one of the first things I’d learned in therapy. To breathe. To ground myself in the moment. To feel the steady beat of my heart as I inhaled and exhaled. Because if my heart was still beating, if I was still breathing, I was still here. Alive.

  And fighting.

  The fingers of my left hand ran over the wrist of my right. Circular soothing motions, feeling the jagged scar there. The permanent reminder. My ‘battle scar’ as Celeste liked to call it. But it didn’t feel like a trophy. Not to me.

  A dark cloud swarmed into my head, blotting out the slither of light. Breathe, I silently demanded. Breathe, Harleigh. I sucked in a sharp breath, too fast, too greedy, and almost choked on the air caught in my throat.

  Dropping my head back against the cushion lining the rattan egg, I closed my eyes. This didn’t feel much like living. I hated it here, hated it with every fiber of my being. Celeste and this roof terrace were the only good things about living in this house. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.

  I wouldn’t be trying to keep a promise I should never have made.

  Nix

  “Hey baby.” Cherri ran her chipped pink nails up my chest and fisted my t-shirt. “I missed you last night.” She pouted, flashing me puppy dog eyes. But they barely touched the ice around my heart.

  Cherri was a means to an end. An itch I liked to scratch sometimes. Nothing more. But from the longing in her eyes, it was becoming increasingly fucking obvious she hadn’t got the memo.

  “Yo, Cherri,” my best friend Zane called. Cherri glanced over her shoulder at him, arching a thin brow. “How about letting my boy breathe, yeah?”

  “How about you go fuck yourself, Zane?”

  “Ouch, she has claws.”

  “She bites too.” Cherri snapped her teeth together, and I smothered a laugh. She was something else.

  But Zane had a point.

  She was growing clingy. Trying to put her claim on me. But I wasn’t looking to go steady. With her or anyone else.

  Girls were a distraction. A fucking headache I didn’t want or need.

  “Back up, Cher,” I said, nudging her off me. “I’ve got shit to do.”

  “Come on, Nix, don’t be like that. I came tonight for you.” There was that pout again.

  Jesus, she sure knew how to lay it on thick.

  “Go find another dick to bounce on tonight, yeah?”

  Anger flared in her overd
one smoky eyes. I never understood why girls felt the need to smear that shit all over their faces so much.

  “You bastard,” she fumed. “I thought we were—”

  “Run along, Cher.” Zane could barely contain his laughter. Motherfucker was colder than me.

  She stormed off, shouldering the other girls circling us out of her way.

  “No pussy is worth all that aggro,” Zane said, draining his beer. He threw it in the trash can and grabbed another from the cooler.

  “I thought she knew the deal.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “They all say that, Nix. Until they catch feelings and think they can tame you into more, or even worse, trap you.”

  “Where’s Kye?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Some drama with Chloe.”

  “Again?”

  Kye Carter was the other third to our trio, and Chloe was his sister. He sure had his hands full with her. The two of them fought like cat and dog. But she was his family. His blood. And sometimes, when you grew up in a place like The Row, it was all you had.

  Not that I knew a damn thing about that. My family was Zane and Kye. My brothers not by blood but choice. We’d had each other’s back since we were in diapers. They were my guys, my ride or die. They were the only two people in the world I could depend on.

  “You’ve got that look again,” he said, kicking my boot.

  I flipped him off, running my eyes over the party. Saturday night down at the reservoir was always the same: full of kids from The Row looking to cut loose and forget their shitty existences. Drugs, alcohol, sex… it was a fucking free-for-all down here, in a place long forgotten by the rest of Darling Hill.