27 Lies

by Mj Fields

My hands begin to shake. I take the frame and hurl it against the fireplace in this fucking den that has become the bedroom to a fucking broken soldier.

  When I look back up, she is looking out. Then she quickly closes the curtains.

  “Fuck you!” I yell just as Mom walks in.

  “Luke?”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I snap, not meaning to.

  “No, you’re pissed, which is better than what you have been,” she retorts in the same tone.

  “And what have I been?”

  “You’ve been gone; that’s what you’ve been. Glad to see you’re back. Now clean up that damn mess and come to dinner.” With that, she turns on her heels and storms out.

  Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I pissed off my mother.

  I look at the mess then back at the door to see Lauren peeking around the corner, looking at me like she’s afraid.

  “What?” I snap.

  She scowls and shakes her head. “Do you know how lucky you are to be alive right now?”

  That shocks me just as much as Mom’s snapping.

  “Lucky, yeah. Real fucking lucky.”

  Slowly, like it’s taking all she has, she raises her hand and sticks up her middle finger. “Fuck you, Luke. We love you. We. Love. You.” A tear slips down her cheek as she then turns and walks away.

  “Lauren, wait.”

  She shakes her head as she keeps walking.

  Then Ryan walks around the corner. They’re fucking everywhere!

  “She just say fuck?” he asks, eyes wide.

  I don’t answer, not wanting to get her in any trouble.

  “Well, shit, now all my kids act like their mother.” He laughs. He laughs hard as he walks past me and toward the mess.

  I grab the broom then use one crutch to walk toward the mess where I sweep while he holds the dustpan.

  When it’s all in the pan, he stands up. “One crutch, huh? You better not let your mom see that.”

  I nod.

  “Heal up. Gonna need your help, son.”

  Son.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I’ll try harder. - E. Stranahan

  AVA

  I watch as Logan holds Chance while I feed Hope before bed. The way Logan looks at him is beautiful.

  “Logan?”

  “Yeah?” he responds without looking up.

  “I love you,” I tell him, my voice cracking.

  He looks up slowly, and I see tears forming in his eyes. “Love you, too, Ava.”

  I’m too choked up to tell him that not returning to school last spring was stupid, so stupid, but I can’t.

  “You’d have done it for me,” he replies then sniffs. “Now go back to whatever it is you’re doing over there.”

  “Breastfeeding,” I force out, knowing that’s what is expected.

  He laughs, startling Chance, whose lips pucker up. Logan mimics him.

  “No, don’t look at me like that, little buddy. It’s your mom’s fault. Well, her boobs fault, which is probably cool to you because she feeds you and shit.”

  “Logan,” I say, a warning to correct his language.

  “Ava, if he says shit because I did, he’s like that Stewie character—an evil genius—and I think something that looks so sweet can’t be evil.”

  I smile. “Aw, Loggie...”

  “Aw, Ava...” he mocks, shaking his head. “Concentrate on whatever it is you’re doing so you can stop doing it in front of me.”

  “Okay.”

  He chuckles under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Feeling embarrassed, I repeat, “What?”

  He gives a small, almost sad smile. “You said okay. For years, I wished you would just agree with me, but now, I’d give anything for you to argue.”

  I don’t respond. I bring Hope to my shoulder and begin patting her back. When she’s asleep, I bring her into my parents’ old room and to put her in the crib Dad and Logan set up months ago, the one I never intended to use.

  I look out the window and, from across the yard, I see Luke standing in the den. He throws something, and then he looks out the window. Quickly, I close the curtains then move away to lay Hope down before making my way back to Chance.

  After I feed him, I’m off to the hospital so I can see Harper, Maddox, Piper, and meet the newest member of the Hines family, Reed Collin Hines.

  After an hour with them, I am finally driving down the road, back to my babies. I miss them so much. It was wonderful to meet Reed. He’s beautiful, healthy, big, and completely opposite from my children when they were born, but they are now.

  I slow down when I approach the house, seeing a light on in Jade and Ryan’s garage. Then I see Luke lying on a bench, lifting free weights in black basketball shorts and a white hat. I immediately feel sick to my stomach.

  I pull into the driveway and hit the garage door opener. Then I have to wait for the damn thing to open. When it doesn’t, I hit it again and wait. I look left and see Luke walking out of the garage, one crutch under his arm.

  Dammit.

  I get out and walk as fast as I can without making it obvious that I am trying to avoid...him. Then I drop my keys while fumbling to find the right one, so I drop to my knees and search blindly in the dim lighting to find them. It takes far too long.

  Once in the garage, I try to open Logan’s car door to get his opener, but it’s locked.

  I turn to walk out to gather my things when the garage door starts to open. I see two bare feet and a crutch.

  It seems like it takes forever for the door to open. My heart is pounding. I am terrified that he is this close to me, to my children.

  He scowls at me. “You forget the code?”

  How the hell did I forget that?

  “Ava?” he says after I don’t say anything. “It’s—”

  “I know, I know.” I shake my head. “Just been busy.” I am finally able to take a step.

  “With the babies,” he comments.

  “My babies, mine and T’s,” I spew in a panic as I force myself to walk around him to my vehicle. “And yes, of course.”

  He grabs my elbow, stopping me, and I instinctively yank it away.

  “Jesus Christ, Ava. You need to—”

  “I need to do exactly what I’m doing. I’m a mom, Luke, a mom, and they need me. I don’t need anything but to take care of them.”

  “You need to take care of yourself, too. You need to move your ass back here so you can let the people around here help you out. You need—”

  “You need to take your own advice,” I snap back as I get into the vehicle.

  Pissed, he drops his crutch and walks over, stopping me from shutting the door.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He stumbles, and I reach out to steady him. He’s so heavy that it takes all I can to hold him up as he grabs the roof of the car and the door.

  I look up, and when our eyes meet and at that very moment, he knows exactly what I mean.

  I let go and slide between him and the vehicle to grab his crutch.

  “I’ll fucking get it,” he snaps as he bends to get them.

  As I move away, we collide, my eye making contact with his jaw. I wince.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He grabs my chin and lifts my head as I blink away the tears caused by the pain.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him, pulling my face free.

  “It’s not fucking fine, Ava.” He reaches for me again, but I move, opening the back door.

  “Get in,” I tell him.

  “I can make it just—”

  “Just shut the fuck up and get in!” I scream.

  He looks shocked, stunned. Hell, I am, too. But I won’t back down from a fight with him, not now, not ever.

  “I can walk!” he snaps back.

  I open my mouth to point out the obvious, that he can’t really walk all that well, but then I snap it shut, sighing out, “Just get in.”

 
“I’m capable,” he quips as he makes his way to the back seat.

  “I know,” I agree, shutting the door behind him.

  Once in the driver’s seat, I look back and notice him looking at the car seats. I don’t say anything, and I desperately hope he doesn’t either.

  I reverse out of the driveway and drive into his. When I put the vehicle in park, I look back to find him still staring at one of the car seats. I get out and open the rear passenger seat.

  “Luke...” I say, waiting for him to get out.

  “What’s it like?”

  His question catches me off guard.

  He looks up. “What’s it like being a parent?”

  I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. “They’re the second best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “The first?”

  “How much their father loved me,” I answer, and then have to swallow hard.

  He nods and looks away. “Sorry for your loss.”

  “I’m sorry for theirs. He would have been an amazing father.”

  “Like Ryan?”

  I tilt my head to the side. He’s saying Ryan’s a good father, which is true, yet I have never heard that before, not from him. Then it immediately makes me wonder, if he’s saying...Oh, God.

  I hold my hand over my stomach and, in a panic, change the subject. “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

  His eyes scrunch together a bit. In pain or annoyance, I don’t know.

  “I’ve been through it all hundreds of times, Ava. Hundreds.”

  “I’m sorry for those as well,” I tell him, keeping the conversation focused on his loss and hoping it keeps him out of mine.

  Is it cruel? Is it wrong? Does it matter when I am doing it to protect my children?

  He looks around uncomfortably and shakes his head. “My fucking crutch.”

  I don’t respond. I just turn and run across the lawns to get them, to get him out of the vehicle. When I return, he is standing outside the vehicle, holding himself up on it.

  I notice a tattoo that wasn’t there before. A flag, with an eagle, and a name. I look up when his pecs flex.

  “This loss hurt worse, though, didn’t it?” I ask, immediately regretting it.

  “It was a bad fucking day.”

  I nod. “Yes, it was.”

  We continue to stand there, saying nothing, and then I notice him looking at my eye.

  “It’s gonna bruise.”

  “A bruise is nothing.”

  He nods. “I’m getting stronger.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Can’t go back to the life I was living.”

  “Because of your injuries?”

  He looks at me and again says nothing. Then he takes the crutch and starts to move away. “I’m getting stronger.”

  I get in my vehicle and hurriedly start it up. Then, even quicker, I reverse and end up squealing tires when I put it in drive.

  Dammit.

  I pull into the now open garage and see Logan sitting on the inside step leading into the house, waiting for me.

  When I get out of the car, he looks at me. “Bang your head...again?”

  I nod. “Are they still asleep?”

  “Yes,” he says with a bit of a bite.

  “I need sleep.”

  I walk past him, and he follows.

  “Is that why you hate him now? Did he hit you?”

  I snap around. “Of course he didn’t hit me! Why the hell would you think that?”

  “It’s not hard to put two and two together. I’m not stupid.”

  “Luke Lane wouldn’t hit me or anyone else not deserving it, Logan. I don’t hate him because we occasionally bump into each other.”

  “Then why? Why do you hate him?”

  “I don’t,” I answer, turning my back to him.

  “Then why the hell haven’t you reached out to him? Why, when you two—” He stops. “Never mind. I should just keep my mouth shut like everyone else does around here.”

  “Everyone else around here? What are you talking about?”

  He shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  I want to know, but more than wanting to know, I want to get the hell out of here. They are talking about me? My family, his family, the entire town?

  Before I say something, I decide I don’t really want to know. I don’t. I just need to get the hell out of here.

  The way Logan looks at me is anger mixed with pity. He has never looked at me that way before. Never.

  “Good night, Logan.”

  “Ava,” he calls out as I walk up the stairs. “You’ll be fine. It won’t be easy, but you’ll be fine.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him. “Nothing, not one damn thing, will be all right ever again. So if you and everyone else thinks I am...” I pause. “My children, mine”—I poke myself in the chest—“will be fine.”

  ***

  After two hours of watching them sleep, being as quiet as I can, I send Casey a text, asking her to come down to the room. While I wait, Chance wakes up. I change him then get ready to feed him, sitting on the bed as Casey walks in.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I nod. “I don’t want to fly home. Chance’s ears hurt him on the flight here.” I point to the corner where all of our bags are packed. “I am going to feed them, and then I’d like to leave. Is that okay?”

  She looks confused but nods.

  “They’ll think it’s silly. They’ll try to get us to stay longer. I just want to go home, you know? Just in case it’s more than the flight. He should be close to his pediatrician.”

  “Ava, you don’t have to explain,” she tells me, grabbing two bags.

  “Oh, and I don’t want Logan to know I’m leaving.”

  She nods. “I understand.”

  When I get to the garage, she is in the driver’s seat. After I put the babies’ seats in their bases, I start to open the driver’s door, but Casey stops me.

  “I am going to insist that I drive. You haven’t had any sleep; I’ve had enough.”

  I climb in the back. “If you get tired—”

  “It’s a five-hour drive. If you get some sleep, and I get tired, I’ll pull over, and we can switch.”

  “Thank you,” I say, looking at my babies. “Thank you for everything.”

  We pull out of the driveway, and I feel horrible that I left Logan with just a note. I feel horrible that I am doing this—stealing away at night like a thief. I’m not a thief. I am a mother who will do anything to keep her children safe from ill intentions, safe from being around the stress of judgment, safe in a home that was created out of love.

  Once on Route 90, heading to Homer to get on 81, I feel less tense, less stressed. I feel like myself—Ava, mother of two beautiful babies. Then my phone rings.

  “Ava, is everything okay?” my dad asks.

  “Yes, Dad, everything’s fine.”

  “Then why are you not at the house?”

  I am shocked for a moment. How the hell does he know this?

  “Jade called; said she saw you pull out. Tell me you ran out of diapers or something, I will know you’re full of it, baby girl. We made sure you had everything.”

  “And I appreciate it, but I’m heading home—”

  “You are heading away from home, Ava. This is home.”

  “Dad...”

  “Daddy. You call me daddy. Always have—”

  “Lucas,” I hear Tessa say quietly in the background.

  “No, Tessa. Enough is enough,” he snaps at her.

  “Dad, I’m a mom now. Chance didn’t do well on the plane, so we’re driving home.”

  “This is fucking—”

  I hear a muffled sound, and then, “Ava?” It’s Tessa.

  “Tessa, I need to be home. I need to be close to their doctors.”

  “We could have driven you,” she says sweetly.

  “Your daughter just had a baby. She needs you.”

  �
�You know we’re here, regardless.”

  “I know, but I had you all for months. I need this. I need to do what I have to do, and I need to do it without worrying about who I am offending and whose feelings are getting hurt. It’s nothing about anyone but me and these babies. I won’t—”

  “I understand, Ava, I do,” she says with all sincerity.

  “Then please, please make him understand, too.”

  “You’ll call us when you stop, and when you get back to Brooklyn?”

  “Back home? Yes, I will.”

  “And we’ll come down this—”

  “Next weekend. Harper needs you now.”

  “Your father can come then, because—”

  “No, Tessa. Just...no. I need to take care of me. I need to take care of them.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I can fake it. - S. Lam

  LUKE

  Two Months later…

  After a while of being “unable” to reach out, I have finally been in touch with my team, thanking them for their calls and making sure Lilian, Killshot’s wife, and their boys are okay. The pain in her voice nearly brought me to my knees when I spoke to her. Then, when I spoke to Killshot’s little men, it literary brought me to my knees. They were moving back home, to where two people fell in love and decided to raise a family before he even joined the Army.

  Now, I try to call every day, or at least leave a message. It’s hard. Lilian thanked me for bringing him home to her, but I didn’t bring him home. I assisted in bringing his body home, bringing back his shell to be buried. To me, that is not a win, and regardless of her words of thanks, I know it really means nothing.

  I know.

  A few weeks ago, we hosted the entire Ross and Hines families for Thanksgiving, a holiday Ava promised to attend but didn’t, using a storm as an excuse not to travel.

  “Better safe than sorry,” Tessa says when she tells us Ava can’t make it.

  Lucas says nothing, not one thing. It goes without saying that he’s not happy.

  I retire to bed early. I have been pushing myself hard at PT. Even the masochist told me to take it easy. What he doesn’t get, though, is that nothing good ever comes from easy. If I am going to get stronger, I know damn well it’s not going to be easy.

  While lying in bed, I hear them playing cards—my folks, Tessa and Lucas, Logan, and my siblings. I also hear an argument between Lucas and Mom, one I am shocked by.