Practice to Deceive

by Olivia Evans

  “But you love her. I can’t promise she’ll ever forgive you, Brennan,” he said, causing my heart to drop. “The reason I invited you here, the reason I haven’t done like Grace asked, is because the girl who moved here last year and the one I saw three weeks ago could not possibly be more different. Skylar was the happiest I’ve ever seen her, and it was because of you. She’s not so happy now, which is also because of you, so I expect you to make it right. If she does forgive you, gives you another chance, and you hurt her again… Let’s just say, I know how deep this lake is.”

  “I understand. And for the record, I do love her. I’ll never be able to make her or anyone else understand just how sorry I am for hurting her.”

  “It’s not me you need to convince. But regardless, good luck with that.” He tipped his beer at me and returned to his fishing, the conversation over.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Martin and Preston tell stories about trips they’d gone on in the past. By the time we made it home, I was completely wiped and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a week. Before I closed my eyes, like I’d done every night for the last two weeks, I checked my phone. And just like every other night, there was nothing there. But tonight, after spending time with Martin and Preston, I needed to feel some sort of connection with her, even if it was only one-sided. I pulled up her name and typed out a text, hoping since she’d listened to my message, she’d read my texts as well.

  I miss you.

  The second half of May passed just like the first, with the exception of one text from Skylar telling me she just wasn’t ready yet. Of course, she’d only done that after I’d drunkenly texted her and threatened to sleep on her doorstep.

  With classes winding down and no idea what Skylar planned on doing after graduation, I began to wonder if I really had fucked things up beyond repair. I ran, I lifted, I studied, and I slept. I didn’t go out, didn’t socialize; I just didn’t give a shit about anything. Even Rachel had started hounding me, telling me that staying holed up in my room all the time wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t care.

  “Okay, enough of this shit!” Rachel yelled from outside my bedroom door, trying to twist the knob. I’d taken to locking it after she continued to barge into my room. “Brennan, you can’t keep doing this. And I’ve told you a dozen times that you got a letter from the FBI a few days ago. Don’t you want to know what it says?”

  No. I wasn’t interested in knowing what it said because it involved my future, and thinking about that with everything so messed up was not something I could deal with. I stayed silent, and after a few minutes, I heard Rachel sigh before stomping down the hall and slamming the front door.

  I had no right to feel sorry for myself because I’d created this mess, but that didn’t stop the hole in my chest from throbbing. I fucking missed my girl, and she wouldn’t talk to me. I had no idea where she was, what she was doing, or if I would ever have answers to either of those questions.

  I spent the next day hunched over textbooks, doing some last-minute cramming before finals. Rachel cleared her throat, causing me to jump as she leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, face pinched. She thrust out her arm and dropped a piece of folded paper on top of my book, her eyes locked with mine. I broke away from her and looked down, immediately recognizing the FBI letterhead.

  “What the fuck, Rachel?” I demanded, snatching the paper off the desk.

  “Don’t start your shit with me, Brennan. You can’t just sit here and stick your head in the fucking sand and expect everything to wait for you. You may never get her back. You need to accept that.”

  I ground my teeth together because I was so sick of everyone saying that to me. I didn’t care if they believed it was the truth. I didn’t care that it’d been a month and she still hadn’t contacted me. I refused to believe it was over. I fucking refused to accept that.

  “I know I told you I wouldn’t help you, but I also wasn’t considering certain things,” she said, her voice softer. She sucked in a huge breath and let her words out in a rush.

  “I talked to Skylar, and she agreed to see you.”

  I was on my feet and in front of her before she even finished speaking. “What? You talked to Skylar? When? What did she say? She’s going to let me see her? What made you change your mind?” I asked rapidly, not even sure she understood half of my words, but too fucking nervous to care.

  Rachel smiled at me sadly, which wasn’t at all the look I was expecting when she’d just said Skylar was willing to see me. I felt like someone dumped rocks in my stomach. “What is it, Rachel?” I whispered.

  “You got in. You’re going to work for the FBI. Training starts in three weeks and will last five months in Quantico, Virginia.” She tried to smile, but it fell flat.

  My tongue felt like lead as I tried to speak. “Does Skylar know? Did you tell her? Is that why she agreed to see me? To tell me goodbye?” My throat tightened at the realization that I really had lost her.

  “She doesn’t know. She only knows something big has happened, and that I wouldn’t have talked to her about you if it weren’t important.” She reached up and hugged me before whispering in my ear. “Good luck.”

  She left me standing in my doorway, my fist clenched around the paper still in my hand. A million different times, I’d thought about what I’d say to Skylar if she finally gave me the chance to explain, but now, like this, I didn’t know what to do. Everything felt so final, almost like this was my last chance, and it very well could be.

  I walked to my desk and grabbed my phone, debating whether to send her a text or call her, when my phone beeped. My heart started pounding when I saw Skylar’s name flash across the screen. My hands shook as I opened her message.

  Next Monday. After finals. I can’t before then. I’ll text you the details later.

  Next Monday—which was almost a week away—meant my time with her before I left for training was now two weeks instead of three.

  Sinking into my chair, I stared at her message, letting hope seep in even as dread threatened to completely overwhelm me. I read her words over and over again, searching for some hidden meaning, but knowing I’d find none. I wasn’t sure if two weeks were enough time to fix anything, but it was the only chance I had, and I wasn’t going to blow it. Even if she didn’t want to work things out—even if she didn’t want to be my friend—I couldn’t leave for training without her knowing how much I fucking loved her.

  Distance not only gives nostalgia, but perspective, and maybe objectivity. ~Robert Morgan

  June 2016

  I paced the living room. I checked the time. I made sure there wasn’t shit everywhere, and then I did it all again. Finals were done, school was over, and my time was almost up. No matter how hard I tried to pull the reins, to slow things down, the passing of time was unrelenting.

  I was finally going to see Skylar. I looked at my phone and read the last couple texts she sent. She’d decided she would rather meet here instead of her place, obviously feeling the same way I did about meeting in public—that it was a horrible fucking idea. Rachel and Drew had made themselves scarce, partly because they wanted to give us privacy, and partly because I was driving them crazy.

  I tried to keep my cool and focus on what today meant. I thought about the words I’d rehearsed over the past two days. When I reached down to arrange the mail for the tenth time, there was a soft knock at the door. I straightened my back, my body stiff and rigid as I moved down the hall, my chest tightening as the door seemed to move farther and farther away. One last deep breath and I grasped the doorknob, the metal slick under my sweaty palm.

  As soon as I saw her face, every thought, every rehearsed line, every pointer I’d given myself disappeared. There was nothing but her, us, and the ache in my chest that doubled and vanished over and over again.

  “Skylar,” I rasped, my throat burning as my nerves sucked me dry. “Come in.” I moved to the side as she nodded and passed. I followed her into
the living room, noticing her shoulders were set a little too straight, a little too high, her stride almost unnatural. Everything was all wrong.

  We weren’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be easy and carefree, nothing but crude jokes, soft touches, lingering gazes, and mischievous smiles. I wanted that back. All of it.

  “Do you want anything to drink? I can get you something, or if you’re hungry.”

  “No. I’m fine,” she answered softly, her eyes darting to me before sweeping over the room.

  I wondered what she was seeing. Was it the good times we’d spent in this room? Lazy Sundays on the couch watching bad television while Drew and Rachel threw popcorn at each other? Or was she remembering the last time she was here, when she’d read my journal and found out all my secrets—when I’d hurt her so fucking badly?

  “Rachel said there was something important you needed to tell me. I’m assuming she’s telling the truth since it goes against our deal. So what’s going on?” She moved to the end of the couch and sat down on the very edge of the cushion, like she didn’t want to relax for even a second.

  “Deal?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Our deal that we don’t talk about you.”

  I wished I could say her words didn’t cut me, but that’d be a lie. “I understand. I’m glad my mistakes and stupidity didn’t ruin your friendship with Rachel.”

  “Why am I here, Brennan?” she asked, lifting her eyes to mine. She stared at me, and that fire—that fucking fire I loved so much about her—was there. It wasn’t alone, though, because as hard as she tried, she couldn’t cover the weariness reflected in the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Skylar, I—” When her lip trembled, all thoughts about the FBI, the future, and everything else disappeared. There was only one thing I needed to say right now. I walked around the coffee table and dropped down beside her, my hands automatically grabbing hers. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she tried to pull her hands free, but my hands had a mind of their own. My fingers gripped tighter, the thought of letting her go unimaginable.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. Skylar, please let me explain. At least hear me out. If—” I choked on the words I needed to say. Telling her I’d let her go was physically painful. “If what you want, what you really fucking want, is for me to leave you alone, then I’ll do it. I’ll leave you alone.” I felt shame and sadness as the words left my lips because they tasted like a lie, and they felt like I’d sealed my own fate.

  “I don’t understand anything,” she whispered, her face becoming red and blotchy as she tried to hold back the tears filling her eyes.

  “I look back on those first few months before I really knew you, and I have so much regret, so much shame,” I admitted, my eyes trained on our hands—the way my fingers gripped and hers lay limp.

  “You said horrible things about me. You used me,” she croaked, her breathing labored. “And you know what?” She snatched her hand from mine and jumped to her feet, her fists balled against her sides. “I can give you a pass for some of it. You know, the part where you weren’t impressed because I know compared to some, I’m not that much to look at. Although, it never really bothered me until now, so thanks for that,” she added sarcastically as she wiped roughly at the tears on her cheeks.

  I shook my head, wanting to tell her I didn’t mean it. That she was beautiful, smart, funny, and fucking perfect in my eyes. I needed her to know that those were the words of a bitter guy who only saw Matt smiling when he didn’t deserve to, when he didn’t deserve happiness. But she kept talking, completely ignoring my attempt to speak.

  “I can even overlook the fact that you set out to ruin a relationship that didn’t even exist. If I was willing to cheat on Matt, then I wasn’t a very good person to begin with.” She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath.

  “But what I can’t ignore—what felt like someone stabbing me in the chest with a rusty switchblade—was what you did after you found out we weren’t together. How you knew I wasn’t with Matt, but you decided to stay with me just to hurt him.” She moved to the other side of the coffee table, her hands knotted in her hair, her lips moving but no sound coming out. I sat motionless, waiting for her to continue, to get out all of her pain and frustration.

  “God, Brennan,” she exhaled, her eyes wide as she stared at me. “What did I ever do to deserve this? What did I do to you?”

  “You didn’t do anything, baby,” I whispered, ignoring the way she flinched at my words. “It wasn’t about you—”

  “The fuck it wasn’t!” she screamed, her nostrils flared, eyes blazing. “How can you say that?” She moved around the table toward me.

  “Answer me!” Her face twisted with anger and hurt as her breaths escaped in quick, harsh bursts. “How in the fuck can you think for one goddamn second that it wasn’t about me?” The muscles in her neck strained as her voice shook with the force and volume of her words.

  “I’m sorry—” I started, rising to my feet and stepping toward her before gripping her arms lightly.

  “I don’t want you to be sorry,” she spat, yanking away from me. “I want you to take it back! I want you to fix it! I want—” She broke off, a sob tearing from her chest. “I want to feel like you made me feel before. Not this. Never this.”

  “Don’t you know I’d give anything to do that?” I croaked, lifting my hands to cup her face and brush my thumbs over her cheeks. “If I could go back, even if it meant not being with you, never meeting you, I would do it. I would go back and change everything to keep from hurting you.”

  “But you can’t,” she whispered. “You can’t take it back, and you can’t fix it.”

  “That guy, he’s not me. I let my anger eat at me, turn me into someone I’m not. But you have to believe that how I feel about you now—how I felt about you before Christmas—”

  “You were going to break up with me,” she argued.

  “Only because I felt guilty for the way I treated you. I thought ending things was the least I could do.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I couldn’t. That’s when I knew my feelings had nothing to do with Matt. When you showed up on New Year’s, I just… I couldn’t let you go.” I ducked until we were eye level and brought my face so close to hers that I could feel each breath she exhaled.

  “I can’t let you go.” I gasped when my chest tightened, my lungs and throat constricting, refusing to expand, to offer relief. Her eyes locked with mine as tears continued to slide down her cheeks, a dozen emotions flashing across her face. Panic seized me as I watched them slow. Like a top on its last turn before falling to its side, her eyes dimmed, dulled, and faded, reflecting nothing but loss.

  “No,” I groaned, shaking my head.

  “No.” I pressed my forehead against hers as my fingers tightened their grasp.

  “No.” My entire body heaved as I fought for air. “Skylar, no. Baby, look at me.” I tilted my chin, pulling my forehead back just enough so we could look at each other.

  “I love you, Skylar. I’m so fucking in love with you. Please don’t let me go. Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same way.” She gripped my shirt in her hands and pushed the top of her head into my chest. I automatically wound my arms around her and tightened, the feeling of her in my embrace nearly causing my knees to buckle. I dropped my head to her hair and breathed her in, everything in that moment healing and breaking me at the same time as she cried against my shirt.

  “I can’t trust you.”

  “Sky—”

  “Now,” she continued. “I can’t trust you now, and I don’t know if I ever will. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

  “You know me. I’m the guy you’ve gone to bed and woken up with almost every morning for the last four months. I like my coffee black, but I always remember to add a little sugar to yours. I’ve slept on the left side of the bed my entire life, until you told me you couldn’t sleep on the right so I let yo
u have it, even though you end up on the other side with me by the time we wake up.” I walked back a couple steps and pulled her down on the couch with me, sliding my hand under her chin and tugging until she lifted her eyes to mine.

  “I’m the guy who thinks about you every fucking second of every day. The one who misses you when you’re only in the other room and who loves to make you laugh. I’m the guy who knows how to touch you,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. “Who knows how to love you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting as her eyes bored into mine. “You’re also the guy who used me, lied to me. The guy who hurt me so damn much.”

  “Just give me a chance to show you again how much I love you. That’s all I’m asking. I miss you so fucking much, Skylar.”

  Her eyes slid shut as she brushed her fingers over my knee. “I can’t make you any promises, but I know I need time. I need you to let me move at my own pace. Maybe we can start over, I don’t know.” She sighed, her voice low, frustrated. The immediate burst of hope that shot through my veins suddenly dropped into free fall, crashing and igniting into flames because we didn’t have time.

  “I got in,” I replied softly.

  “What?”

  “The FBI. I was accepted.”

  “That’s what you wanted to tell me?” she asked, her eyes wide. A look of understanding crossed her face as she slid away from me. “You’re leaving.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Two weeks.” I took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the distance she’d put between us. Instead, I steeled myself to tell her what Rachel had convinced her to come here for. “Training lasts five months. In Virginia.”

  “Five months,” she echoed, her eyes brimming with tears again, her fingers curling around the tops of her thighs and squeezing.

  “We can—”

  “It isn’t fair!” she cried, rocking forward. “You’re going to be somewhere new and different, where you will have tons of distractions. Somewhere that every place you go and everything you see doesn’t rip you apart because it reminds you of the huge hole gouged out of your chest.” Her words were jumbled and choked. Her chin quivered. The pain in her eyes tore me apart. Pain I caused. She swallowed and pulled in a deep breath, struggling to push the rest of the words past her lips.