Generous Lies

by Robin Patchen

  The affected brogue didn't bring a smile to Matty's face because even Irish luck ran out eventually. And whether Dad wanted to admit it or not, Matty was pretty convinced this Robert dude would hurt his family if he didn't get the diamonds, and the guys who'd given Dad the diamonds wouldn't be too thrilled if he didn't get them delivered. It sucked to have to betray his father, but in the end, if he had to choose... Dad had always chosen himself. Matty? He'd choose Mom every time.

  Chapter 31

  It was after ten by the time Garrison and Aiden sat down to breakfast. Aiden would still be sound asleep if not for him, but no way was the kid sleeping all day. As soon as Garrison had opened his eyes, he'd dragged Aiden out of bed and tossed him in the shower.

  Aiden's plate of eggs and bacon had hardly been touched.

  "No appetite?"

  "No."

  Garrison finished his own meal, pulled Aiden's plate across the table, and ate the bacon. "You're missing out."

  "I know."

  Aiden had hardly spoken all morning, and Garrison didn't have much to say, either. What was he supposed to do here? How were they supposed to get back to where they'd been the day before?

  No. The day before, Aiden had snuck out, stolen his car, gotten high, and nearly killed himself. Garrison needed to get back to the year before. Maybe the year before that. Maybe all the way back to his son's childhood, so Garrison could figure out where he'd gone wrong.

  He pushed back his chair, cleared the plates, and set them in the dishwasher.

  "Want me to do the dishes?"

  Garrison turned at his son's offer. That was a first. "Sure."

  He sat and watched as his son scrubbed the pans and put away the food, then wiped down the counters. When he was finished, he returned to the table and sat.

  The silence was as thick as the newly scarred oak tree. Garrison didn't know how to get around it and wasn't sure he wanted to. Why fight for this kid who was determined to kill himself? If only Garrison didn't care.

  Aiden's voice was weak when he said, "I'm sorry about your car."

  "You think I care about the car?"

  Aiden shrugged.

  Garrison wanted to shake him. He leaned back, crossed his arms.

  Aiden said, "I'm sorry I left last night."

  "Okay."

  "I'm sorry about—"

  "When we were sitting in there"—Garrison pointed toward the living room—"talking, were you planning to leave?"

  Another shrug.

  "Your ability to deceive me, to manipulate me—"

  "I wasn't trying—"

  "Don't interrupt me." The words came out harsher than he'd intended. Maybe he shouldn't yell at the kid. Maybe he should. He'd tried reasoning with him. Tried calm and collected. Tried loving. Maybe Aiden needed a little fear. Maybe he needed to feel Garrison's wrath. Maybe that would straighten him up.

  Maybe it would send him away for good.

  And then Garrison would have his life back.

  And what kind of father let that thought seep in? But he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be the kid's warden and guard and savior.

  Unfortunately, the only other option was unthinkable.

  "I'm tired of being lied to," he said. "I'm tired of being played. What you did last night...luring me into trusting you. That was...impressive. Diabolical."

  Aiden looked at the table, then back up. He met Garrison's eyes, though it seemed an effort. "When we were talking, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I wanted to go, but I wanted to stay, too. I wasn't trying to manipulate you, Dad. I was just...I was trying to not want to get high. I just...I'm not strong enough. I can't do it."

  "You could have asked for help. You could have been honest."

  Aiden focused on his lap, said nothing.

  "But you chose to deceive me. Again."

  Garrison remembered Reed's words from Sunday. Addicts' very survival depends on their ability to deceive. That's not your son. That's the addiction.

  Well, it looked a heckuva lot like his son right this minute.

  "I'm sorry." The words were a whisper from across the table.

  Garrison had never felt so helpless. He'd thought they were on the right track, but now, now his son's recovery seemed as distant as the moon. "What do you want to do?"

  Aiden looked up, tried to hold eye contact, failed, and focused somewhere around Garrison's chin. "Is that rehab place still an option?"

  "They're holding the bed for you," Garrison said. "I told you that yesterday."

  "But, I mean, will you still, like, let me go? Will you still pay for it, even though I stole your phone and wrecked your car?"

  The uncertainty in his son's voice had Garrison shifting his chair to face him. "Of course." He leaned forward, wanted to reach out, but didn't. He'd done enough of the reaching. "Of course. What did you think, that I would just write you off because of one relapse?"

  Aiden shrugged, and his eyes filled with tears. He tipped forward just enough, and Garrison pulled him into a hug. "All I want is for you to get better." He held his son a moment before he angled back, studied Aiden's face. "You understand that, right? You know how much I love you?"

  Aiden nodded and buried his face in his dad's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dad."

  "I know. It's going to be okay." He rubbed his back, tried to infuse Aiden, and maybe himself, with courage. "We're going to fix this." He leaned back, met Aiden's eyes. "You have to believe that, believe it's possible. Do you believe it?"

  "I don't know."

  Garrison nodded slowly. "Okay. Right now, I'll have to believe enough for both of us."

  Chapter 32

  Sam checked the caller ID on her phone. It was Garrison. She sat at the desk in her office, steeled herself, and answered.

  "I didn't wake you, did I?" His voice was tender. He would be kind. Of course he would, because he was a kind man, a gentle man. His rude remark the night before was the result of stress and fear. This Garrison would never have said it—I never should have listened to you—even if it was true.

  "I've been up for a while," she said.

  "Did you get some sleep?"

  She hadn't, not much. The images from the night had plagued her whenever she'd closed her eyes. The crushed car, the red and blue lights, the menacing forest. She'd dozed a little, but even now that she'd been out of bed an hour her eyelids felt like sandpaper. "Yeah. How about you?"

  "A little. Listen—"

  "How's Aiden?"

  "He's okay. He's watching TV. I've been on the phone all morning trying to figure out the car situation. But I wanted to—"

  "How is the car?"

  "It's... I don't know yet. It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about that. I'm trying to—"

  "Do you need help with anything?"

  "Would you please let me talk?"

  She stared out the window and across the landscaped grounds of her condominium complex. She could guess what he was going to say, and she wasn't ready to hear it. Either he would dump her for what she'd done the night before, or he'd feel so guilty about her stupid panic attack he'd apologize, as if it had been his fault. But it had had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her and her irrational mind.

  She knew where this train was going, and she needed to get off now, before it pulled her into an abyss she wouldn't survive again.

  She could still picture Garrison jumping out of the car, running to his son's side. Of course it had been the right response, the only response of a great father. Aiden was his priority, Aiden needed to be his priority.

  Garrison's life was all about Aiden, his school, on Long Island. His job, on Long Island. His life, on Long Island.

  Sam was just the woman with the cabin. Even if Garrison wanted her to be more, even if on some level, he did care for her, his life was on Long Island. It wasn't and would never be in New Hampshire. Deep down, he knew that. Maybe she had to help him realize it.

  "Sam, are you still there?"

  Whatever he
planned to say, she couldn't listen. It would be easier for both of them if she just ended this now.

  Except...not now. Not after last night. After they'd both rested. After Aiden was squared away, then she'd end it. "I should probably let you go."

  "Your anxiety attack last night...I'm sorry I left you the way I did. It was selfish. I just forgot."

  "You were worried about Aiden."

  "That's no excuse, and I'm sorry."

  It wasn't his fault. It was her fault. She was the one who was damaged. "It's fine. I have to go."

  "What is wrong with you?"

  The anger in his tone flicked a long-buried memory. What's wrong with you? I told you to get rid of it. Did you think I'd change my mind?

  Yes, Garrison knew it too. Knew they weren't supposed to be together.

  "Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

  "I have to go."

  "I need your help."

  Her finger hovered over the red button on her screen, but she couldn't bring herself to disconnect. She returned the phone to her ear. "What can I do?"

  "First, you can let me say what I want to say."

  "There's nothing to say."

  "But—"

  "No." Why was she torturing herself? She didn't owe Garrison anything. She'd done all she could for him. "If you need help, you should probably call Nate or Marisa, and if they can't help you, try Brady or Rae. They'll be happy to do whatever you need."

  There was a long silence. For a minute, she feared he'd hung up. Feared it? If she was afraid of that, then what was she doing, pushing him away?

  Protecting herself, that's what. She'd barely be able to handle the broken heart now. Any deeper and she'd be destroyed for good.

  She heard his breathing, could feel his questions. "I'm sorry."

  "I don't want their help." His voice sounded weak, quiet. "I need you."

  "I'm sorry," she said again.

  "I'm in love with you, Samantha."

  His words ricocheted like a gunshot through her memories. I'm in love with you, Sammy. Just you. I'll always want you.

  Just not like this.

  She ended the call.

  Chapter 33

  "Are you still there?"

  Like an idiot, Garrison waited, held his breath, hoped. And then he looked at his phone's screen.

  She'd hung up.

  He'd told her he loved her, and she'd hung up.

  He collapsed into the chair on the back deck and ran his hand over his hair. What just happened?

  He snapped his laptop closed. All the details about the rental, the garage where they'd towed the car, the deductible didn't matter right now as he played back the conversation. Had he said something stupid, something inconsiderate or insensitive? He'd hardly said anything, and what he had said, she hadn't wanted to hear. Hadn't wanted to talk to him, that was for sure. Perfect time to tell her he loved her.

  Talk about a bonehead move.

  He looked at the phone again. Even if she hated him, loathed him, he couldn't imagine her hanging up on anybody, ever. She was too kind.

  He was missing something.

  He'd caught her off guard, and she'd...what? Panicked?

  The thought had him flashing back to her anxiety attack. Surely telling her he loved her wouldn't bring that on, would it?

  What would happen if she had a panic attack at home? If she couldn't breathe. He imagined her all alone, frightened, unable to get oxygen. He stood, started for the door. To go where, without a car? And obviously, she didn't want to see him right now.

  He sat and texted. Just tell me you're okay, and I won't bother you again.

  I'm fine.

  You want me to call somebody for you?

  No.

  A moment passed, and then she added, Thank you.

  She was fine. Able to text, and, presumably, able to breathe.

  So much for that theory.

  Which meant she'd hung up on him on purpose.

  Great. Nearly lost his son, did lose his...well, girlfriend wasn't the word, though he'd hoped it might be, someday. What a stellar week he was having.

  And what kind of crazy relationship-sabotaging demon had possessed him to tell her he he'd fallen in love with her? He hadn't even allowed himself to think that, much less say it aloud, not even to himself. But he'd felt her pulling away, and, in that moment, he'd known. Known he was in love with her. Known that he wanted her. Known, God help him, that he needed her.

  He'd taken a leap of faith and landed in a pile of fresh manure.

  "You okay?"

  Garrison looked up to see his son in the doorway.

  "Uh, did something happen?" Aiden asked.

  "Everything's fine. Why?"

  "I don't know. You look funny."

  He forced a smile. "Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?"

  Aiden shook his head, tried to quell the amusement that flitted across his face. "Did you get a rental?"

  "Yeah. I'm trying to find us a ride."

  "What about Sam?"

  Excellent question. "Sam's busy."

  "Oh. Are you gonna get an Uber?"

  Uber. That was an idea. "Yeah. I'll try that. Thanks."

  Aiden went back inside, and Garrison opened the app. As it loaded, his phone rang.

  "Are you up for water skiing today?" Nate sounded far too chipper. Obviously word of his son's wreck hadn't spread. Garrison was thankful for that. Nate continued, "I've got the afternoon off, and there's a chance of rain tomorrow and Thursday. It looks like this'll be the best day this week."

  "I'm not sure we can make it work today."

  "Uh-oh. What happened?"

  Was his voice that much of a giveaway? "Aiden had an accident last night, so I'm trying to figure out the rental situation."

  "Is he okay?"

  "A little sore. It could have been much worse."

  "Were you guys on your way home from Brady's?"

  "Not exactly." Garrison wasn't about to tell him the whole story, but he figured in a town like this, news would get out eventually. "The kid decided to take a little joyride after I fell asleep. He drove into a tree."

  "Oh, no. Thank God he's okay. I did that once when I was about his age. Took my father's car. I managed not to dent it, but when Dad realized what I'd done... Well, let's just say I never pulled that stunt again."

  "What'd your dad do?"

  "He grounded me forever. I'm lucky I'm allowed to drive now." A slight chuckle. "But it wasn't the punishment. It was the lecture. Before that, he'd trusted me. Man, when I saw the disappointment on his face, I swore I'd never do anything that stupid again. It took me a long time to earn his trust back."

  "My dad was always disappointed in me, so it didn't matter much what I did."

  A beat of silence, then, "That sucks."

  Garrison blew out a long breath. "I don't know why I said that. It was a long night."

  "What can I do?"

  "Nothing. We're good."

  "You said you got a rental. I guess Sam'll give you a ride?"

  Yeah, Aiden had guessed that, too. "I'm getting an Uber."

  "Nah. I got nothing else to do. Then we can take the boat out this afternoon. What do you think?"

  "Not sure I should take my kid waterskiing after he wrecked my car."

  "Huh." Garrison waited through a long pause, figured Nate was building up to something. "I don't pretend to know how to parent a teenager, but I can tell you, no matter how mad my father was, he always got over it fast, especially if there was something fun for us to do together." He said the words with a hint of laughter, then added more seriously, "Honestly, those times with my dad are some of my best memories. Maybe you two need to keep making good memories."

  Good memories. Could there be any from this terrible week?

  Did it hurt to try?

  "Yeah. Okay. After I get the rental, there's something I have to do. And then, boating sounds great."

  Chapter 34

  Sam wiped her teary eyes, yell
ed, "Coming," and headed for the front door. She'd been wallowing in confusion and sadness long enough. As she went down the stairs from her office, she straightened her shoulders. This was her life, and she loved it. She wouldn't long for another.

  She figured she'd find the postman on her stoop with a package. Nobody else dropped by in the middle of the day. Good thing, too. She was in no shape for company.

  She peeked through the peephole and stepped back as if she'd seen a dragon.

  Garrison.

  She considered ignoring him, and maybe he read her mind, because he said, "I know you're there, Sam. You just said you were coming."

  She went into the small guest bath, checked her face in the mirror. Eyes, red-rimmed. Cheeks, blotchy. Hair, ridiculous. She yanked out the scrunchy that was holding her messy bun in place and finger-combed her long hair. It wasn't better.

  The doorbell rang again.

  She checked her clothes—black pajama pants and a red T-shirt with the Patriots logo across her chest. Could she look worse? She stepped back to the door. "I'm not dressed."

  "You were dressed enough for whoever you thought I'd be."

  "Well, I'm not dressed enough for you."

  "Hubba hubba."

  Fine. He asked for it. She swung the door open. "What do you want?"

  He regarded the outfit. "Love the pants, but you have to lose that terrible shirt. I'll get you a Jets one."

  "I'll burn it in effigy."

  "Giants?"

  "I'll douse it with lighter fluid and then burn it in effigy."

  "Wow, I'll keep that in mind when Christmas rolls around."

  Christmas. Like they'd still be in contact. Which they wouldn't. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "What do you want?"

  He cleared his throat and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the back pocket of his shorts. "Right. Well, I'd just like a few moments of your time, ma'am." He consulted the paper, or at least pretended to. "You just escaped a short relationship with Garrison Kopp. He likes to conduct a survey after he gets dumped—an exit interview, if you will—so he can avoid making the same mistakes again. You can imagine how often I have to do these things." He rolled his eyes, and she had to fight a smile. "Do you have time to answer some questions?"