Lie to Me

by McAdams, Molly

  A weary smile tugged at my lips. “I’m thankful for it, Lala.”

  She stopped walking at that, hope and surprise lighting her features. “Is that so?”

  I blew out a slow breath, shrugging nonchalantly as I did. “Of course. He got everything put up. The store’s all ready now—all of Donna’s surprises look great.” At the tick of her eyebrow, I listed my head and conceded, “We needed that. Really, thank you.”

  She hmphed as she continued next door, but her smile grew as she asked, “Well then, where is this boy we’ve been missing so much?”

  “He’s working, and don’t act like you haven’t still seen him every day.”

  Lala studiously avoided responding but tsked again when we were walking up the path to the house. “When are you going to give up those heels?”

  “Never.”

  “They’re dragging.”

  “I’m exhausted, Lala,” I reminded her, trying not to sound like I was falling asleep just answering the question.

  “Bet you wouldn’t be as exhausted if you wore sensible shoes,” she muttered as she led the way up the porch.

  I didn’t respond, just fixed my expression into something I hoped looked a little more alive than I felt as I knocked on the door for her . . . only for my face to fall when Ron Butler answered.

  I knew—I should have known from everything I’d been told.

  I’d already known they lived next door. Lala told me she went to church with the Butlers.

  How could I have missed putting it all together before then? What had Jarrod told him after I’d left the meeting? What had Ron put together from it?

  His stare slid from me to Lala, features polite and not giving any indication that I’d run from his office just weeks before. “Come on in,” he said fondly, taking the dish from her and scooting back to let us by.

  Once she’d passed him, already chatting with the other people mingling inside, his eyes locked on me.

  “Ms. Wade,” he said, my name coming out in a soft, careful sort of way that had chills skating across my arms. “Good to see you again.”

  “You too,” I murmured, caught off guard at the reaction and the way my mind was screaming to get away from him when there was nothing about the man that had given me pause before then.

  “Emma!”

  I turned, eyes widening when I saw Leah coming toward me, holding her swollen belly.

  No, no, no . . .

  “What are you doing here?” The demand was out of my mouth before I could remind myself to take a breath—to be kind. Because it wasn’t Leah I was afraid of seeing.

  It was the man I’d realized she was married to.

  She gave an awkward little laugh as she gestured to the room we were in. “This is my parents’ house. I live just next door.”

  Ice crept around my stomach. “You . . . you live next door?”

  “Yeah.” An uncomfortable smile pulled at the edges of her lips. “I wanted to tell you—you know, to come say ‘hi’ or something. But my brother thought you might need time.” Her worried stare darted away as she mumbled, “He might’ve been right.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. I just . . .” I fumbled for anything that might help me backtrack and gestured toward the door. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’ve been working nonstop. I honestly think I might be asleep on my feet.”

  Her spirit brightened in an instant, a sweet laugh bubbling free. “You poor thing. My momma just finished brewing some coffee. Why don’t you follow me?”

  “Actually, is there a bathroom I can use?”

  Hide in. Take a minute to collect myself. Breathe . . .

  “Of course.” She took my hand as if she’d known me forever and led me through the room and to the front of the hall. “Last door on the right.” With a gentle squeeze of her fingers around mine, she said, “I’ll get a mug ready for you,” and started to release me only to tighten her grip.

  When I looked back at her, her expression had changed entirely. Eyebrows drawn close together, eyes darting around us in worry, and a distant pain hidden deep in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered as she stepped close. “So much.”

  “I don’t . . .” My head slanted as confusion built.

  “What you did for Peter.” She pressed her lips together and looked around us as if checking to see who might be within hearing distance. “That was so kind. I can’t thank you enough. Just . . .” She gave me another squeeze before pulling away. “Thank you.”

  I stood there for a moment, watching her waddle away as her obvious pain and love for another man made me ache for her. Made me ache for them both.

  And then Ron caught my attention from where he was watching me from half a room away. In an instant, those chills returned as warning bells rang far too loudly even though he was laughing at what someone else was saying.

  Once I was in the bathroom, I turned on the cold water and held my wrists beneath the faucet. Eyes shut as I focused on breathing. Telling myself repeatedly that I was being dramatic. My exhaustion was making me overreact because of who his son-in-law was.

  That was all.

  That’s all, I mouthed as I shut off the water and let my hands drip-dry over the sink.

  Determined to pull it together, I pushed from the counter and inhaled deeply, feeling my defenses form around me like armor as I left the bathroom.

  The air rushed from my body, and I turned, already swinging for the person dragging me to the open doorway opposite where I’d been. But my first and second attempts were easily blocked as I came face to face with Jarrod Davis’s unnerving grin.

  “Ms. Wade,” he whispered as his grip tightened on me.

  “Let go,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “See, I can’t do anything about you being just a couple houses away because there are eyes that see everything. But then you come to me—” He twisted his body and slammed me up against the doorframe with his hip when I tried to knee him. “Women have always thrown themselves at me, but ever since you . . . I’ve craved the way you fought.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Yeah . . .” His grin widened. “I’ve been craving this.”

  “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”

  His eyes danced over my face, showing every bit of his enjoyment. “Ms. Wade, by the time I touch you, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

  My stomach rolled and a tremor of fear ripped through me.

  From the way his eyes flared, he felt it, and he was taking it the wrong way.

  “You have a wife,” I reminded him, voice all seething hatred as I fought harder against his unyielding hold. “A very pregnant wife who is in this house. I’m sure she’d love to know—”

  “What?” he demanded, the unspoken warning lingering between us for a few seconds before he challenged, “Try me, Ms. Wade. Who do you think silenced those strippers? Who do you think destroyed all evidence of any of us being in the building that night?” He dipped his head closer and closer despite how I tried to get away from him. “Being me has its perks. Having Ron as my father-in-law has more.”

  I went still.

  Horribly, sickeningly still.

  “I told you, you can’t touch me, but you and I both already know exactly how I can touch you.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I was shaking as flashes of that last night in Manhattan tore through my mind, and I couldn’t breathe.

  “I look forward to more of your defiance.” His nose trailed up my cheek. “Even more, I look forward to when you submit.”

  “I will ruin you,” I vowed, the threat weak.

  His hushed laugh brushed against my skin. “Until next time, Ms. Wade,” he whispered, leaving me trembling against the doorframe as I battled demons.

  Once I managed to shut them away, I hurried out of the hall, my steps faltering when I entered the living room to twice the amount of people that had been there when I’d left for the restroom.

/>   “Lala,” I said when I found her, voice strained. “Lala, I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

  Her laughter from the group conversation she’d been in faded when she saw me. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I’m just—I’m tired. I’m so tired, I have to go,” I repeated.

  “Of course.” Her head bobbed. “Of course, do you need us to come with you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’m just gonna go to sleep. Have fun here. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The last words were a frail assurance as I backed away, already turning to go. Then I was out of the house and walking as quickly as I could without looking like I was running away.

  But when I reached Lala’s house next door, I didn’t stop. I kept walking until there wasn’t even a hint of my demons or memories or Jarrod Davis. Until my mind was blissfully blank and my feet ached.

  Releasing a slow exhale, I slipped off my heels and gathered them in one of my hands as I finally looked around, trying to gather where I was.

  My gaze caught on the cross-street sign a few yards ahead that was the last turn on the way to Reed’s. I glanced that way before starting down the handful of houses that separated his house from me, never hesitating in knowing that was where I needed to go. The last time I’d wandered around after bumping into Jarrod, I’d ended up next to Donna’s store—exactly where I needed to be. This was no different.

  “Hey.”

  I glanced to the side as I neared the pathway leading up to the house, stopping when I saw Peter rounding his car with a small bag in hand. “Hi.”

  He pointed to the house. “Reed’s working.”

  “Oh, I know. I can wait outside.”

  A snort left him as he met me at the porch, his brows drawing close. “Wait, did you . . . did you walk here?”

  “Um . . .” I glanced down at my bare feet, my head slanting as I realized how odd that seemed now that I was standing there. “Yeah.”

  “You and Lala good?”

  “Of course.” I gave him an incredulous look. “I just started walking and ended up here.”

  He studied me for a moment before accepting my answer with a nod and heading up the steps. “You hungry?”

  “Really, I can wait out here. I was planning on it.”

  “Okay, first, no. Second, I think Reed would kill me if I left you out here. Third, I’m starving. So, we either eat out here or in there. I vote in there, which means we’re going in,” he said with a cheesy grin as he unlocked the door.

  “I guess we’re going in,” I murmured as I followed him.

  “Does Reed even know you’re here?” he asked as he took long steps through the front of the house to toss his bag into his room, expression equal parts expectant and concerned when he started back my way.

  “No, I don’t have my phone or anything.” When the concern deepened, I reminded him, “Like I said, I just started walking and ended up here.”

  Peter nodded, stare drifting to the floor for a moment. “Is it going to be surprising to him that you’re here?”

  My mouth parted to once again tell him that I hadn’t even known I was coming before I realized what he was really asking. The last he’d known, Reed and I weren’t speaking.

  “We talked today,” I informed him. “Figured everything out and worked through a lot.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “Good.” He started for the kitchen and clapped his hands together. “All right . . . food. What do you want? Because I can really only make two things: Pasta and pancakes.” He patted his flat stomach. “We like breakfast here.”

  “Then, there’s your answer.”

  His hand lifted in a placating gesture. “Don’t just let me have what I want—you have to eat too.”

  “I like breakfast,” I said with a shrug.

  I’d survived off dry sandwiches for most of my life. I liked most things.

  “I knew I liked you,” he called out as he moved deeper into the kitchen, already opening up cabinets and grabbing things.

  I hung back, watching him for a minute before asking, “Did you need any help?”

  “No, ma’am, you can just hang out.”

  I glanced around, feeling uncomfortable. Like there were layers of dirt and filth on me, and if I touched anything in their house, I would leave traces of my past and Jarrod.

  “Emma.”

  I looked up and stilled when I found Peter watching me as if he could see straight through to my darkest secrets.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out. “Do you need to call Reed?”

  My head moved in slow shakes before moving faster. “No, of course not. I just—” An awkward huff burst from me.

  “What? And for the love of God, don’t say ‘nothing,’” he added quickly, then shot me a look. “I was married, I know how women work.”

  I swallowed back that exact word and thought of every way to get out of explaining it when he was looking at me like he already knew what I was thinking. “Can we just forget about it?” I asked. “It’s inappropriate and rude.”

  A soft laugh rolled up his throat as he leaned back against the counter, waiting expectantly. “I was in the military. You can’t shock me.”

  I held his unwavering stare for a while longer before relenting, shame dripping from the whispered words. “I need a shower.”

  “Cool. We have two of those,” he said indifferently, then jerked his chin toward the far end of the house. “Reed has one connected to his room.”

  “Peter, it’s really—”

  “Not a big deal,” he said firmly, then started pulling out a large skillet from one of the cupboards. “Food will probably be ready about the time you’re done. Grab some of Reed’s clothes.”

  I stilled. “What?”

  “Did you want to get back into your clothes after showering?” he asked slowly, uncertainly, then hurried to add, “You can. You can do whatever you want. But you can also borrow some of Reed’s.” He gestured off to the side. “You can even wash your clothes if you want, I don’t care. Do whatever you need to.”

  “I’m just gonna go shower,” I mumbled softly and hurried off in the direction I remembered Reed going the other morning.

  Once I’d found my way to his room, I slowed, taking in his intoxicating scent and surprisingly tidy room. All masculine furniture and dark colors, the same as the rest of the house. A guitar was propped up in the corner, but that was the only personal touch. No pictures . . . nothing that would hint at the person who lived in that room.

  Not that I had room to talk, but I also hadn’t had a normal life.

  Personal touches had been a luxury I could never afford to keep around.

  Going back to the bedroom door, I locked it even though nothing about Peter gave even a hint of alarm. But neither had my boss or Ron Butler at first.

  Heading for the attached bathroom, I paused next to the lone, tall dresser in his room. Contemplating Peter’s suggestion for longer than was probably necessary before finally setting my shoes down beside it and opening the top drawer to search for something to wear.

  By the time I was walking back out to where the smells of pancakes and bacon were filling the house, I was in a pair of Reed’s athletic shorts and one of his shirts. The layers of grime had been washed away along with the feel of Jarrod’s hands on me, and I’d fortified the walls in my mind.

  “I texted Reed,” Peter said before he ever turned around, as if he had superhuman hearing. “He wanted to know if you were okay.” He grabbed a couple large plates and started for the table, catching my eye as he did.

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “What I knew so he could determine that on his own.”

  I nodded, watching as he set the food down and then went back to the kitchen. “Thank you for letting me shower. I know that was really—”

  “Not a big deal,” he reiterated.

  “—inappropriate,” I finished under my breath. I eyed the new bowls of food he set down, then glanced at t
he awaiting plates in front of two of the chairs. “Are more people coming?”

  He snorted. “Told you I like breakfast.” Grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge, he came back and nodded to one of the chairs. “Sit.”

  I stepped closer, movements hesitant as I pulled back the chair opposite his. “Is this weird?”

  His brows lifted as he watched me, seeming to wait for me. “Does it feel weird?” he asked, drawing out the question awkwardly and pulling a muted laugh from me.

  “No, but I feel like it should. Being here alone with you, eating with you, when you’re Reed’s best friend and roommate.”

  Peter just shrugged. “Reed knows you’re here. You still remind me of someone who is like my little sister. So, I’m good with not making it weird if you are.”

  After another second of contemplation, I sank into the chair, and he followed, groaning appreciatively as he did.

  “Thank God, I’m so hungry.”

  “You don’t need me here to eat,” I said pointedly as I took one of the pancakes and pushed the plate toward him.

  “Do you see how much I made?” he asked, tone deadpan.

  “That isn’t my fault, and you said you liked breakfast!”

  He scoffed. “Yeah, but . . .” He looked pointedly at all the food littering the table. “Get to eating.”

  “Now you sound like Lala,” I mumbled as I grabbed some of the eggs, hash browns, and mixed berries. “This is more than just pancakes, by the way.”

  “It’s a package deal,” he explained, waving a strip of bacon around to gesture to everything before passing the plate to me.

  I hummed, all amused disbelief as I poured syrup over my pancake. “So, what would’ve been in the ‘package deal’ if I’d picked pasta?”

  Peter let out a groan and said something that sounded like best bread of your life around the bite he’d just taken, then launched into stories of his time in the military with Reed and Nick—all of which were heavily laced with humor. Most of them revolved around food, and, somehow, many ended with one of them comically naked, but the bond they had was evident in each one.

  After listening to him talk for hours, I understood all too well why Reed and Peter had followed Nick back to Colby when they’d all gotten out of the military. They were family.