by Tara Wyatt
Caleb paled a little, his hand shaking as he dropped the check back down to the desk. “I see.”
Disappointment jabbed Dylan right in the heart. A part of him had hoped his father would fight with him, or for him, or something. That he wouldn’t just calmly take the money and accept that he’d probably never see his son again. Dylan vowed right then and there that it would be the last time his father would ever disappoint him.
“This is my fresh start, my clean slate. You provided a hell of a lot for me, but you also messed me up. If I want to be a better person, I can’t do that with you in my life.” He blew out a breath, meeting his father’s eyes. “You’re a cancer, and I’m cutting you out because I just wanna be happy.”
“So dramatic,” Caleb said quietly. He picked up the check and folded it in half, slipping it effortlessly into his shirt pocket.
Dylan smiled sadly and rocked once on his heels. “Goodbye, Dad.” His father said nothing, simply turned around in his desk chair to face the window, and Dylan left. As he made his way down the stairs, he waited for the sadness, the grief, the loss to hit. But all he felt was a freedom unlike any he’d ever felt before.
He got back into his car, and as he drove, he dialed his agent Aerin through the car’s BlueTooth system. She answered on the first ring, as always.
“What’s up?” she asked. Her breath came in fast little pants, and he could hear the whir of a treadmill in the background.
“I have a favor to ask, and it’s gonna sound a little weird.”
“Okay, hit me.”
“I need you to work your connections to find me someone who administers private lie detector tests.”
She scoffed out a surprised little laugh. “That’s a new one.”
“Can you do it?” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, anxious to get the next step of his plan in motion.
“Pfft. Of course I can. Give me a couple of hours.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Aerin. You’re the best.”
“I know. That’s why you pay me so much.”
It had been two weeks since Maggie had gotten fired and broken up with Dylan, and for the first time in those two weeks, she didn’t wake up feeling miserable and confused and alone. She’d given herself an appropriate amount of time to wallow, but she was done with that now. Enough was enough. Time to pull on her big girl panties and start getting her life back together. So, she flung the covers back, tugged on her neglected workout clothes, laced up her running shoes, and headed for the park.
It was just after 7:30 in the morning, but the sun was already well above the horizon and heating up the morning air. As Maggie jogged, her blood pumping through her veins, she cranked up the volume of her music, letting Beyonce spur her on through her workout. She hadn’t run since before everything had gone to shit, and she needed the little extra push. She was already dripping with sweat by the time she got to the park, but it felt good. Cathartic and cleansing and energizing to do something other than sit on her couch and feel sorry for herself. Inhaling deeply, she joined her favorite trail and found an easy rhythm, taking in the scenery, trying to ground herself and stay out of her head. A small group of sailboats clustered together on the lake, their sails flapping gently in the morning breeze. Herons soared and dived into the water, fishing for breakfast. A pair of cyclists whizzed by on the trail, their bells chiming happily. The leaves above her moved hypnotically, casting fluttering, delicate shadows on the pavement beneath her feet. The air was warm, but fresh, and all around her, life was happening, one second at a time. Peaceful and vibrant all at once.
When Mama had died, Maggie hadn’t understood how she was supposed to go on. She’d felt rooted to the spot, unable to take a single step in any direction without falling apart. Without feeling as though loss and grief and loneliness were consuming her from the inside out, eating her up like a virus. But slowly, with time, and patience, and strength she hadn’t known she’d had, she’d realized that life was going to go on with or without her, and it was up to her if she wanted to be a participant or an observer. And she’d known Mama would be so disappointed if Maggie had chosen the sidelines. So she’d gone on, putting one foot in front of the other until it got easier and easier. Until living didn’t take some kind of momentous effort every single day. Easing her way back into life.
That’s what it felt like she was doing now. Merging back onto the freeway after spending some time pulled over to the side of the road, unsure where to go. But here she was, out in the world, running, listening to music, savoring the sun on her skin. Life happened in the small moments, and she was living it, despite the heartbreak of losing Dylan, and the humiliation of getting fired.
It was almost an hour later by the time she got back to her apartment, and even though her legs were heavy and her skin was coated with sweat, she felt energized. She passed by the mirror hanging in her front hall and smiled at herself.
“I’m going to be just fine,” she said to her reflection, and for the first time in two weeks, she felt like just maybe it was true. Losing Dylan hurt, but she knew she had the strength to move past it. If she’d survived losing Mama, she could survive anything.
She took her time over a leisurely breakfast, savoring her food, and then luxuriating in the shower, letting the hot water work its magic on her muscles. After a cup of coffee, she set about cleaning her apartment, which had gotten messy over the past two weeks. Like the work out, the cleaning felt liberating. It was a small part of her life over which she had complete control, and it felt good to tidy and dust and scrub. By the time she was finished, the entire place smelled like lemons and fresh air, and she rewarded herself with some time on the couch with her ereader.
After lunch, she settled herself at the kitchen table with her laptop and a notebook, and began her job search in earnest. She spent the entire afternoon updating her resume and LinkedIn page, reaching out to contacts, and scouring the web for open jobs in her field in the Dallas area. It had been a while since she’d immersed herself in a project, and the hours disappeared. Before she knew it, it was nearly five in the afternoon. Feeling immensely proud of herself for all that she’d accomplished that day, she closed her laptop and poured herself a glass of wine to enjoy as she threw something together for dinner.
“I’m kicking ass today,” she said aloud to herself, a warm satisfaction simmering through her bones. “I don’t need Dylan.” Everything was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. She’d wallowed, and then pulled herself back together. She was doing fine. Not just fine. Awesome.
After dinner, she snuggled up on the couch and turned the TV on, flipping through the channels and looking for something to watch. As she scrolled past NBC Sports, she noticed that the Longhorns were playing, and decided it was perfectly normal to be curious as she turned to the game. Dylan’s face filled the screen, the camera focused on him as the announcers talked about a catch he’d just made.
The sense of satisfaction, of thinking everything would be just fine, that she was moving on and healing, vanished completely, leaving her feeling as though her heart had just been carved out of her chest. An aching loneliness barreled into her, making it hard to breathe. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry over Dylan anymore. She’d already given him enough of her tears during her lifetime.
She might not need Dylan, but she still wanted him. Despite the truth he’d hidden, despite the hurt and humiliation he’d caused her. It was pathetic. She’d been fooling herself all day. She wasn’t any closer to being over him than she’d been the night she’d walked out of his apartment after confronting him about his lies. She missed him and needed him and felt his absence in her life more than she cared to admit. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him about her day, to hear that warm, masculine laugh, to feel his arms around her.
Her mama would be so disappointed in her.
He’d promised her that if it ever came down to it,
he’d choose her over his father. It had been another lie, apparently, because he’d kept the man’s secrets at her expense. She shuddered and reached for the blanket tossed over the back of the couch, wrapping it around her legs. Knowing that she’d gone to school on Caleb McCormick’s dime made her feel slimy. The fact that Dylan had manipulated her into doing so made her feel even worse. What was worse than slime?
A cockroach. She felt like a cockroach.
He’d taken away things she thought she’d known about herself, like that she was smart enough to earn a scholarship to college. She’d never know if she would’ve managed to make the same life for herself without Caleb’s bribe. For the rest of her life, she’d always wonder, because he’d stolen a truth from her. He’d upended her sense of self, and it would take a long time to recover. To re-learn who she was, and what she was capable of.
And yet…she missed him. Still wanted him. But how could she ever trust him again? She wanted the impossible. And she had no idea what to do about that.
Seventeen
Dylan: Hey. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.
Maggie: Hey. I’m doing fine. I have a job interview this afternoon and another tomorrow morning.
Dylan: That’s great! Not that I’m surprised.
Maggie: Thanks.
Dylan: I miss you.
Maggie: I might miss you too. A little. Maybe.
Dylan: Can we please meet for lunch? I just want the chance to clear things up, that’s all.
Maggie: I don’t know if that’s a good idea.
Dylan: Just one meal. Then, if you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.
Maggie: I’m probably going to regret saying this, but okay. Lunch.
Dylan: Tomorrow, after your interview?
Maggie: Sure, I guess.
Dylan: Great. How about that taco place you like? The one on Commerce?
Maggie: You’re an evil man. Tempting me with tacos.
Dylan: Noon?
Maggie: Okay. Noon.
Maggie wiped her palms on the skirt of her sleeveless red dress as she stepped inside the Taco Tornado. The lunch crowd was in full swing, with a long lineup of people in front of the takeout counter, and almost every table in the restaurant occupied. The loud hum of conversation mingled with the Latin pop music piped in through the speakers, and the air smelled like carne asada and cilantro. A waitress moved past Maggie, her tray laden with margaritas, and Maggie wondered if it’d be rude to order one, just to take the edge off.
She stepped farther inside, her eyes scanning the tables, looking for Dylan. From a far corner, he caught her eye and waved. A rush of twisted emotions engulfed her, leaving her feeling happy and relieved and sad and anxious all at the same time. It was enough to nearly make her dizzy as she picked her way across the patterned floor tiles.
“Hi,” Dylan greeted her, dressed casually in jeans and a black Nike T-shirt. He looked good, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. A part of her wanted him to look like crap, to look how she felt. But maybe that wasn’t fair; she didn’t know. He stepped forward and tentatively pulled her in for a delicate hug. His scent enveloped her, making her stomach twist with barely contained butterflies. The feel of his body pressed lightly against hers made her throat clog with emotion, so she stepped back quickly in the name of self-preservation.
“Hi,” she finally said, rubbing her lips together and fiddling with the strap of her purse. She decided to hang back a bit and let him take the lead, since he was the one who’d invited her to lunch. It felt like a safe decision in an otherwise precarious situation.
“I got us a table in the back room so we can talk.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Quieter, more private.”
Adrenaline spiked through Maggie at the thought of being alone with Dylan, but she nodded.
Oh, yeah. That margarita was for sure happening.
She followed him into the back room, normally reserved for large groups or parties, her feet tangling up with each other when she saw another man sitting at the lone table in the otherwise empty room. For a tiny, terrible second, she thought the man was Caleb, but as she took another halting step forward, she realized it wasn’t. She didn’t know who he was, but he was dressed in a suit with a laptop open on the table in front of him. Other gadgets littered the table, things Maggie didn’t recognize, things that looked like…was that a blood pressure cuff?
“What’s going on?” she asked, taking a step back.
Dylan held his hands up as though approaching a wild animal. “Hear me out. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but just listen. This is Bill Linden, from the Dallas division of the FBI.”
“Why are the FBI here? What did you do?” she asked as she took another step back.
Bill chuckled and rose from the table. “Dylan hired me to give him a lie detector test.”
Maggie’s eyes bounced from Bill to Dylan to the equipment and back to Dylan. “Oh,” she said softly. He was going to take a lie detector test for her? Well, that was…unexpected.
He stepped forward cautiously and took her hands in his. “I want to tell you the truth. About everything. I want you to know that I’m not lying to you, and that you can trust me.”
Maggie bit her lip, her eyes once again flicking to the equipment on the table. “So how does this work, exactly?”
Dylan smiled, relief lighting up his eyes. “Bill’s gonna hook me up to this thing, and then you can ask me anything you want. He’ll tell you if I’m telling the truth or lying.”
“We’ll set it up so that you’re facing Dylan, and I’m seated behind him. I’ll check the readings with each answer he gives. I’ll nod if he’s telling the truth, and I’ll shake my head if he’s lying.” Bill hunched over the computer, beginning to get things set up.
“And I can ask you anything?” Maggie asked, a tiny ray of hope finding her through the clouds of the lies and the secrets.
Dylan spread his arms wide. “Anything.”
“Okay. But just know that me hearing you out doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I just want answers.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Ready if you are,” said Bill, and Maggie took a seat at the table, watching as he hooked Dylan up to the machine. Once everything was in place, Dylan relaxed back in his seat, his legs sprawled in front of him and almost touching hers. “I’m going to ask you a few test questions to make sure everything is set up correctly. What’s your full name?”
“Dylan Joshua McCormick.” Bill gave a little nod.
“Where were you born?”
“Ivy Hills, Texas.” Another nod.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.” Nod.
“Okay, we’re good to go. Over to you, Miss Jennings,” said Bill, his attention on the computer screen.
Maggie opened her mouth and then froze completely. “I have no idea where to start.”
“Take your time,” said Dylan. “I’m not going anywhere.” And then he smiled, the one that made the corner of his mouth turn up and his eyes crinkle, and she felt something inside her relax.
“Okay, um…were you ever planning to tell me that your father paid my college tuition?”
“Shit. Right to the hard stuff. Okay. No. I wasn’t planning to tell you.” Bill nodded and anger flared through Maggie’s chest.
“Why not?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to soothe the burn smoldering there.
Dylan sighed. “Because I knew how it’d make you feel, and it was in the past. There was nothing I could do to change it or take it back, and I just wanted to focus on moving forward with you. But I know now I should’ve told you. You had a right to know the truth, and it wasn’t fair of me to hold it back. I was selfish.” He paused and looked down at his lap, his fingers woven together. “After we got back together, I was scared I’d lose you again if I told you. And I knew finding out would hurt you. I was trying to protect you, and I guess pr
otect us. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Bill nodded. Dylan was telling her the truth.
Maggie nodded slowly, taking his answer in. A part of her wondered if he hadn’t been right to keep the secret. Like he’d said, knowing didn’t change anything, and finding out had only hurt her. Then again, he’d made that choice for her in the first place.
“Why did you choose that ten years ago? Instead of staying with me?”
“Again, I felt like I was doing the right thing. I hated the idea of you saddled with all kinds of student debt or not going at all. I know how much going to college meant to you. I wanted to give you that. You need to know that breaking up with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Bill nodded.
Tenderness unfurled inside her, but she pushed it aside. She still needed answers before she’d let her heart do any thinking for her. “But you could’ve told me why. You didn’t have to keep it secret.”
“Can you phrase that as a question, please?” asked Bill.
“Sorry. Why did you keep it a secret from me ten years ago?”
“Because I figured if you knew, you wouldn’t take it.”
“So you forced me to accept charity I didn’t want.” There was more of that anger, burning hot right in the center of her chest.
Dylan’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I did. It was an asshole move. One I regret.” Another nod from Bill.
“I don’t know how to move past all this manipulation. I accept that you’re telling the truth, but it doesn’t change what you did.”
He looked up, meeting her eyes. His face was tight with remorse, regret etching lines around his eyes. “No, it doesn’t. But I swear, if you give me one last chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Maggie’s chest felt tight, her brain buzzing. She wanted to forgive him, wanted to fall into his arms and let him catch her, but she held herself back. She needed to know that taking another chance on Dylan wouldn’t make her the world’s biggest, most pathetic sucker. “Have you ever manipulated me about anything else?”