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My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me? Wh—” My gaze darts around the garage before snapping back to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He rakes both hands through his thick, dark hair. “Why the fuck would I have, Lennon? You were standing there with Justin, smiling and looking so fucking gorgeous and happy…” Pain tightens his face. “Telling you would have ruined the entire night for everyone.”

“So instead you ruined our friendship by punching my date and saying those awful things to me?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he arches a brow at me. “Awful? Or honest, Lennon?”

I toss my hands in the air. “You know what? Forget I brought it up. I can see that ten years later, you’re still not mature enough to have this conversation.”

I spin away, head back inside, and storm toward the bathroom, locking myself inside while I fight to get my blood pressure under control. Every deep breath I take in reminds me that stress is the last thing I need right now. But my entire body is shaking from the fury rushing through me, and not because of Easton’s reaction.

No. My anger is fueled by all the what-ifs crowding my brain right now.

I twist the knob to turn the shower on, needing to feel the hot water on my skin to soothe me, to bring me back down to earth because I feel like the past ten years of my life have all been a bad dream that Easton was in control of.

He just chose to keep me in this nightmare instead of letting me wake up and get back to reality.

By the time I’m done showering, I feel an ounce of relief, but it’s not enough to stop myself from ripping the door to the bathroom open with my towel wrapped around my body.

When I do, Easton is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me.

“Lennon…”

“I need to get dressed,” I say, walking straight into the walk-in closet and shutting the door behind me for privacy. When I emerge, Easton is waiting directly on the other side, blocking my path. “What do you want, Easton?”

His jaw clenches. “What the hell do you think I want? I want to talk.”

“I—I don’t have anything to say to you right now.” I attempt to move past him, but he lifts an arm, blocking the doorway.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Move, please.”

“No. Not until you say what you need to say.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not even sure what else there is to say, Easton! You lied to me!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What?”

He crosses those muscular arms over his chest again, straining against the fabric of his shirt, and his dark hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it. The scruff on his jaw appears darker in the closet’s dim light, and I instantly wonder what it would feel like against my inner thighs. I’m so turned on standing here in front of him that I contemplate throwing myself onto him like a koala just to see what he does.

But I know that’s the last thing I should do right now.

“I didn’t lie to you, Lennon. You never asked me why I showed up to your house that night and I never offered an explanation, so technically there was no lie.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You think you’re going to get out of this on a technicality?”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything. In fact, I think that you’re the one who’s trying to get out of telling the truth here.”

“I’m sorry. Why the hell would you think that?”

He reaches forward and tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Because your anger is misdirected, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

He nods as a cocky smile curls his lips. “Yup. Because I’m not the one you’re mad at.”