The Truth Pact (The Truth About Love Book 1)

by C. M. Albert

  I knew I was walking a razor’s edge, but this was one path that would lead me anywhere but to my salvation.

  SOMETHING WOKE ME from a dead sleep, and I groaned, rolling over and grabbing my phone from the nightstand. Two in the morning. It must’ve been Olivia taking Stitch out.

  I knew the right thing to do was rollover and go back to sleep. But I never said I was perfect. I pulled on a T-shirt and slipped quietly into the backyard. The moon wasn’t as bright as it had been the first night I’d joined her outside this late, but it was easy to spot her. Tonight, she’d laid a large lap blanket onto the perfectly manicured grass and was laying on her back, looking up at the night sky. Stitch was happily stalking a bug by the fence and barely looked up as I made my way to join her.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?” I asked, my eyes tracing over her long, sleek, catlike body. She was wearing a matching baby blue sleep set that consisted of a silky pair of shorts and a camisole. Lace edged both, and I swear I’d never look at blue lace the same way again.

  “No,” she said quietly, patting the blanket beside her. “Care to join the Insomniacs Club?”

  “Are you the founding member?”

  “The one and only,” she said, laughing. “But we’re taking new member applications.”

  I lay down next to her, crossing my arms behind my head, too. The grass tickled my calves since I was longer than Liv and was hanging off the edge of the blanket. We relaxed in companionable silence, both of us feeling the weight of one another without the need for words.

  Liv was the first to fold. “Do you ever wonder if there’s more to life than this?”

  “I know there is.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Because I have faith that there’s life beyond this body that we’re living in. Our soul has to go somewhere when we die, and I believe it comes back one day—to get a second chance or maybe right a wrong.”

  “I hope so,” she said quietly.

  Liv hadn’t told me about the baby they’d lost yet, Ryan had. So, I didn’t want to ask if that was why she was asking. Instead, I said, “Have you ever lost someone?”

  She searched my eyes, as if trying to decide what to disclose of her heart and whether she could finally trust me. “Other than Ryan, I’ve lost every single person I’ve ever loved.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. I wanted so badly to reach over and draw her into my arms, but I didn’t. She wasn’t mine to love the pain away, and it would’ve crossed the line of our growing friendship.

  She turned her attention back to the few faint stars that were visible. “I met Ryan when I was getting my MBA. He was my professor—shocking, huh? When my adoptive parents died during my final year, he was the one to catch me, preventing me from spiraling all the way down. We started dating soon after that—obviously on the DL,” she said, grinning.

  “Obviously.”

  “We got married when I was twenty-five, and our first baby was due when I was twenty-six, but I had a late-term miscarriage. They think she developed a heart defect, and we lost her at twenty-two weeks,” she said quietly.

  Well, shit. Ryan only told me about their most recent loss. I hadn’t realized there were others. No wonder he was so protective; the last few years had probably been hell on her.

  “God, Liv—”

  “It gets worse,” she said, biting her lip. “Three months later, we accidentally got pregnant again. I was over the moon, but Ryan was worried it was too soon. He had reason because I was still experiencing low-grade depression at the time, after losing our first child. But our ‘oops baby’ was never an accident to me. I think maybe because I was adopted, I was grateful my birth mother decided to have me, even though something obviously prevented her from keeping me. She carried me all that time, then gave me up so I could have a better life. I think that’s the most selfless act of love imaginable.”

  “Have you ever met your real parents?”

  “No,” she said, growing quiet. “I decided long ago to leave that door closed. She gave me up for a reason.”

  I knew something was still bothering her by the way she closed her eyes, her body tensing.

  “I think Ryan wanted me to have an abortion,” she admitted. “I’m not against others making that choice for themselves, but it didn’t feel like the right answer for us at the time. Even though it was too soon, we wanted a family so badly. I’m ashamed to admit that I refused to hear him out. We got into a huge fight about it, and I miscarried the next day.”

  I rolled onto my side so I could look at her. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right? It was your body’s way of agreeing with you that it was too soon.”

  She looked at me, surprised that I had such a strong opinion on the matter.

  “I know in my heart you’re right. My doctor said the same thing. And Ryan tried telling me, too. But I was so mad at him. It felt like a betrayal for him to not want our baby. To even consider any other option than having it.”

  “It didn’t mean he didn’t want the baby. He was probably just scared. That’s how guys get.”

  “How do you know? You don’t have any kids.”

  “I almost did though,” I admitted.

  A long silence stretched between us. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. This was about her, not me.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” she finally asked.

  “Would it help you if I did?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “It was with my college girlfriend. She was on the pill, so we weren’t always as careful as we should’ve been. In our senior year, she got pregnant. It was definitely an oops baby—I mean, we were only twenty-one. We were both really freaked out at first, to say the least. She knew right away that she wanted to have an abortion, but I didn’t want her to.”

  I didn’t know if I could tell the rest of this story—not even for Olivia.

  “You don’t have to tell me, Brighton.”

  I glanced back over at her stunning blue eyes, and suddenly, I wanted to let her read me like an open book. She was the first woman since Caroline who would know what I’d gone through. Hell . . . maybe it would help us both.

  “I knew it was her body, and her choice. But I begged Caroline to consider keeping the baby. I even told her if she didn’t want it, I would take him. I had all these fantasies about having a boy and teaching him how to play baseball and ride a bike.” I closed my eyes, too many memories rushing back at once. I rolled onto my back, putting my arm over my eyes so I could say the rest without seeing the sympathy I knew would flood Olivia’s eyes.

  It would be my undoing in the worst possible way.

  “I haven’t told anyone this story in eight years,” I admitted. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever told other than family.”

  “Anything you say is safe with me. I promise.”

  “I know,” I said, sighing. “Against her better judgment, she decided to have the baby. We even found out it was the boy I’d been hoping for. We hadn’t worked out the details yet about who would raise him or if we’d try doing it together. But at least she was giving him a chance.”

  It felt as if an entire crater fell from the heavens and landed on my chest. I could hardly breathe. I dropped my arms to my sides and opened my eyes, looking for some otherworldly courage to say what happened next.

  That’s when Olivia slid her hand across the blanket. She looped her fingers through mine and held on tight, giving me the courage to finish.

  “Somehow, between her last doctor’s appointment and when she went into labor, our son flipped his position and became breech. The umbilical cord got wrapped around him and was pinched while she was in labor,” I said, steeling my jaw so I wouldn’t lose it in front of Olivia. “He lost too much oxygen. Never stood a fucking chance.”

  A tear slid from the corner of my eye and down my cheek in the dark. “I know I was a lot younger than Ryan when I lost my son, but men get scared shitless, too. Even if we’re too stubborn to a
dmit it. And I can tell you this . . .”

  Liv squeezed my hand.

  “If you were my wife and got pregnant again too soon—I’d be way more worried about your life than the baby’s. I don’t mean to be a prick, Olivia. But I’m sure Ryan felt the same way.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I never considered that his reaction might’ve solely been because of how protective he was of me.”

  “If you were my wife, I’d move heaven and earth to protect you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, knowing she would never be.

  All I was doing was living vicariously through another man, longing for the wife I’d never have.

  Chapter 17

  Ryan

  LIKE CLOCKWORK, I heard Olivia gently close the backdoor and watched as she laid a picnic blanket over the dew-covered grass. Stitch roamed the yard happily, and Olivia stretched out on her back under the stars, just like we always used to do together. I wanted to go down there, take her in my arms, and remind her how much life we still had worth living. Be the safe place I knew she needed.

  Then I saw him.

  Kerrington cut across the yard from the mudroom door, making his way toward Olivia—not in the least bit surprised to see her there. Had they planned this?

  I dropped my forehead to the glass windowpane of our second-story bedroom. It felt so empty lately with Liv sleeping downstairs again. I woke up every night, as if my heart were tethered directly to hers. When she was restless, I was restless. Instead of turning toward each other like we used to, she now turned away, finding her solace in almost every answer other than me.

  It felt as if my heart was slowly being strangled to death as I stood there staring at them. Brighton stretched out beside my wife, his arms comfortably supporting his head as he gazed at the stars. It wasn’t long before their heads fell together as if they were sharing secrets in the dark—and that gutted me more than anything else. It was one thing to be attracted to someone else. It was another thing altogether to give that person any part of your heart.

  It should be me down there with Liv. Not Kerrington.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to do something. Something had to give with us.

  Before I turned away and went back to bed, I glanced down one last time. Liv traced her hand slowly across the blanket and wrapped it around Brighton’s fingers. It was like the oxygen was vacuumed from the room. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see straight.

  Tears slid down my cheeks as I retreated into the darkness of our room. I turned on the shower and stepped under the scalding hot spray, giving myself fifteen minutes to let my grief swallow me. I would never give into it like Olivia had.

  I slammed my fist against the travertine tile, and the searing pain took hold of my body, shooting straight up my arm. It felt amazing, even as my hand tingled. I felt more alive than I had in a long time. So, I hit the wall again, not caring if I broke a tile or my fist. I did neither, so I took my anger, my fear, and my pain out on the only thing I could—until the water ran pink with my blood, surprising me.

  I turned off the water, in shock, as I looked down at my bloody knuckles.

  “Ryan?”

  I glanced up, finding Olivia staring back at me with confusion in her eyes. She quickly rushed into the bathroom. She grabbed a hand towel and wrapped it around my fist before I could formulate any words that would possibly make sense.

  “What are you doing?” she moaned, shaking her head.

  I hated seeing the fresh pain I brought to her eyes. She had enough to deal with; she didn’t need me to add even more.

  I ran my other hand through my wet hair, water rivulets running down my naked body. She was so close. I could smell the night on her. The freshly cut grass.

  And Brighton.

  I pulled her in close, pressing her against my wet body. “Why do you smell like our neighbor, Liv?”

  She jerked back, shaking her head. “Ry—”

  “Don’t deny it. I saw you outside with him. I saw the way you reached for him. You want him, don’t you? It’s more than just being attracted, isn’t it? Do you want to sleep with him?” I choked out.

  “What? No. It’s not like that!”

  “But it would be if you had no strings to hold you back. Wouldn’t it? If I wasn’t here.”

  “Ryan, stop!” she begged. “I didn’t do anything. We just talked.”

  “Then why can I smell him on you? I know what my wife smells like, and that’s not it.”

  I lifted a strand of her hair and inhaled, smelling the shampoo we had in the downstairs guest bathroom—the one he used. “Truth, Olivia?”

  “Don’t, Ryan. Please,” she said, tears nearly spilling over onto her cheeks. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted. You need to let me help you clean those cuts.”

  I didn’t care that blood was now dripping onto the bright white tile of our bathroom floor. That’s exactly how my heart felt. It was open, gaping, bleeding. There was only one way to put it back together.

  And all the answers started and ended with Olivia.

  “Truth,” I growled.

  She bit her bottom lip. “Truth,” she agreed. Tears were running down her face, and I knew this would be something I could never take back, but I had to know.

  “If I wasn’t in the picture, would you want to fuck Kerrington?”

  “Ryan!”

  “I need the truth, Olivia!” I said, grabbing my boxers from the bathroom counter and sliding them on. I yanked open the top drawer where we kept a stash of bandages. I looked down at my knuckles, really seeing the damage I’d done. Fuck. That was stupid of me.

  I squeezed on some ointment and grabbed a roll of wrapping gauze, choosing that over the ridiculous number of Band-Aids I’d need.

  “Let me help,” she said, taking the gauze from my hand. I sat on the chair near her vanity and let her wrap my knuckles while she stalled for time.

  When she was done, she turned off the bathroom light and led me back to our bedroom. Stitch was lying at the foot of our bed fast asleep, as if he did that every night. He was a good puppy. I had to give him that.

  Liv surprised me when she climbed into bed and turned on her side to face me. “Get in, Ryan. We’ll talk in bed.”

  I climbed in, sliding close to Olivia. Despite the pain in my heart, desire pooled in my belly. Smelling Kerrington on her didn’t help either. It confused me how that could possibly turn me on so damn much.

  “Would you fuck him, Livy? If he asked? If I wasn’t a factor?”

  “That’s not a fair question, Ryan. You’ll always be a factor. The only factor.”

  “I just need the truth.”

  She slid closer to me until her body was just inches from mine, her head sharing the same pillow. She raised her gaze, and I knew in an instant what the answer was. A mixture of sadness, guilt, and longing were at war in the gorgeous blue eyes staring back at me.

  “Yes,” she finally breathed out. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  I pulled her against me, and she nestled her head against my chest, my chin resting on the top of her crown. It was everything I needed to know.

  At least now there was hope.

  Chapter 18

  Brighton

  “KERRINGTON!” I HEARD over the sound of the table saw. I turned it off, lifting my goggles to see Ryan standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was dressed casually, but not grungy enough to be offering his help today.

  “Hey, man,” I said, nodding his way. That’s when I noticed the gauze wrapped around his knuckles, my brows furrowing. “Everything okay?”

  He better not’ve touched Olivia.

  Ryan looked embarrassed as he glanced down at his bandaged fist. “Just a little testosterone overflow. Think I’m gonna buy a punching bag for the garage,” he joked.

  “You all right?”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, then finally looked up at me. “Nah, not really. Think you could grab some lunch? I have something
I’d like to run by you.”

  Ryan’s dark eyes were fighting a battle, growing even darker with whatever was eating away at him.

  “Sure, I could use a break,” I said as I took my goggles off. “This thing is going to be the death of me.”

  Ryan glanced over at my handiwork, where I had several lengths of wood clamped together. I was cutting the last piece for the butcher block island. It would be the kitchen’s showstopper centerpiece when it was all finished. The bamboo wood was a rich, warm honey brown—and its natural grains would be darkened to perfection.

  “She sure is beautiful though,” Ryan said appreciatively.

  Except when he said it, all I could think about was Olivia.

  The short drive to the Crown and Feather was fast. We found ourselves talking about college basketball again—a safe and easy topic. Ryan was a die-hard SU fan—keeping it local—while I was a Blue Devil, through and through. I was proud of the 9–6 lead we had over SU out of the fifteen times we’d battled it out. Ryan was confident they’d bridge the gap this year though, with the new recruits who were coming in. I agreed to disagree.

  By the time we kicked back in a dark-wood booth with a Great Adirondack Whiteface Stout in hand, I was genuinely curious what was going through Ryan’s mind and why he’d dragged me away for lunch. Not that I minded. The fridge at my uncle Isaiah’s house was getting sparse, but I hated to waste time shopping when I could be working.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, taking a pull of my beer.

  “I need a favor.”

  “What kind?” I grabbed a fried zucchini slice from the complimentary basket the waiter left before we ordered. These things were quickly becoming a favorite of mine.

  “Look—I don’t want to beat around the bush. I know you and Liv have a connection. I’ve seen the way you guys interact, and it’s not just you. Liv has been happier since you showed up than I’ve seen her in almost two years.”

  “Ryan—”

  “Hear me out. Please.”