Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  “How did you know we were in trouble?” she whispers into my chest. Her voice is laced with fatigue, but I know her well enough to know she won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

  I pause, unsure if I should tell her. “I had a dream. Or at least, I think it was a dream.”

  “You had a dream we were going to be in danger?”

  I clear my throat, then wince as pain shoots down my side. “In my dream, I thought it was you. But it wasn’t.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “I had a dream about your sister. She told me you guys were in trouble and that I needed to protect you both.”

  She’s eerily silent. I nudge her, forcing her to look up at me, since I’m incapable of doing it myself, and when she does, my heart clenches. There are more tears swimming at the edges of her eyes, just waiting to fall.

  “Don’t cry.”

  “She came to you,” she chokes out.

  I don’t say anything because, as much as I’d like to brush it off as a dream, I know it wasn’t one. It felt too real. She was too real. All of it was too accurate to be just a dream.

  Maybe I am crazy after all.

  Two Weeks Later

  I head to the one place I know he’ll be, needing this to be over and done with. He tenses when he hears my approach, but unlike most people who are fleeing, he doesn’t make a break for it. I pause a few feet away from him, waiting for him to make the first move. He’s packing a bag. He’s running. That’s the only way he’ll escape the consequences of our past.

  Of his past.

  Slowly, he turns to face me, and a tense silence descends. We could stand here and do this all day, but I’d much rather get this out of the way. I have a family to get home to.

  “If you come near them again, either of them, I’m going to kill you.”

  He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to. He knows how serious I am. This isn’t a request. It’s a demand.

  His jaw sets in a hard line, and he gives me the barest hint of a nod.

  “Leave and never come back.”

  He turns, giving me his back. The muscles tense there as he grips the edges of his suitcase. His grip is tight, white-knuckling the material. With a clear view of his profile, I see him grinding his jaw, I see him compartmentalizing the pain. His anger.

  “Watch over her for me.”

  I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Mackenzie told me he knows. That’s what she was most afraid of, that Vincent would come back and somehow try to take his daughter from us. I am here to make sure that never happens. For all his faults, I know Vincent has a decent heart somewhere in there. Even though he’s had a hard life, he shows compassion when it means the most. And I know losing his daughter has got to be painful. Knowing that she’s his, but he’ll never be able to have a relationship with her, is probably killing him.

  “Always.”

  He glances at me over his shoulder, and even though his face is tight with anger, his eyes glimmer with sadness. Sadness over a daughter he’ll never get to meet.

  “What about Trent?”

  A surge of anger sparks in my chest when I think of him. “He’s being taken care of. I’m doing what should’ve been done a long time ago.”

  He turns away, refocusing on his task. “See you around, brother.”

  “You won’t.” Is my last parting response. The last words I’ll ever utter to Vincent Hawthorne in this lifetime.

  With that crushing weight lifted off my chest, I head home to my girls. I’ve washed my hands clean of the last standing Savage. I am done.

  It is over.

  One Year Later

  Finally summoning the strength to do so, I rap my knuckles on the door. I’ve been standing just outside of the doorway for what feels like hours, trying to process how to say or do this. I’ve never had to deal with trauma like this. Sure, I’ve done it on my own, but I’ve never had to take on anyone else’s, and that’s essentially what I’ll be doing right now with Ava.

  She turns toward me at the sound of the rapping, a small smile lighting her face. That little smile is all I need to give me the strength to do what I came here for. I walk into her bedroom that’s been artfully decorated to her liking, all thanks to Baz.

  We’ve given it some time, but after everything that happened, Baz went caveman on the both of us and demanded we move in with him at his home. I didn’t argue because, for once, it was what I wanted, too. It was the best decision I’ve ever made, next to adopting this gorgeous little girl.

  I settle on the floor, right next to her, and scoot close, hovering near her shoulder, staring down at her drawing. For a ten-year-old, Ava is a talented artist. All clean lines and nearly perfect shading, she’s incredible, and I love her to death. At these moments when I look at her, I realize how much of Madison lives inside her. She lives in her carefree spirit, her joyous laughter, and the uniqueness that is truly her.

  When I feel the emotion clog my throat, I blink, trying to pull myself together. I haven’t even done what I came here to do yet, and I’m already on the verge of turning into a blubbering mess. We sit in silence for a beat while I admire her work. A frown suddenly tugs low on my brows when I take a closer look at myself in the photograph she drew. The drawing is a picture of the three of us at the beach.

  Of its own accord, my mind drifts to better days—the ones I’d spent with Madison at the beach. It seems fitting, almost coming full circle, that her daughter would want to go there. I make a mental note to speak to Baz about the possibility of taking a vacation there. Just the three of us.

  In her photo, Baz is holding me with a content expression on his handsome face. It’s incredible, the detail in which she was able to capture his rugged features. The hard, severe lines of his face, yet the contentment in his eyes. My hand is clasped around Ava’s in the drawing, smiles on both of our faces as we look at each other. The waves lap at our feet, our jeans rolled up to our calves. The drawing itself is beautiful, but that’s not what is holding my attention. It’s the fact that in the drawing, it’s clear that my body looks different.

  There’s an obvious bulge in my stomach area. It almost looks like I’m…

  I glance down at Ava, meeting her gaze. “This photo is beautiful, but, um, is there a reason I look like…that?”

  Ava shrugs. “In the picture, you’re pregnant.”

  My brows jump into my hairline. “Wow. Okay. Is there a reason you drew me as a pregnant woman?” I ask, inserting some humor in my tone to keep the mood light.

  Ava giggles, finding it funny. “I’ve always wanted a little brother or sister.”

  Surprise widens my eyes. “You have? I thought you liked…I don’t know. I thought you liked it just being the three of us?”

  “I do. But I wouldn’t mind a little brother or sister either.”

  I laugh, slightly shaking my head, suddenly feeling emotional. I clear my throat. “Well, is that what you really want? Because you know, we’d be happy if it was just the three of us for the rest of our lives. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah. It is. Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.” My response is immediate.

  “Are you happy?”

  My heart stills at the question. “Of course, I am, sweet girl.” I scoot closer, tucking her blond hair behind her ears. “What would make you ask me that?”

  She shrugs, a somber look suddenly clouding her features. “You seem happy with me and Dad, but sometimes, when you think no one is looking, you look sad.”

  My chest squeezes. That makes doing what I came here to do a lot more necessary. “That’s true. Even though this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life, I still have my moments. My moments of sadness. And that’s okay. That’s life, Ava. We’re allowed to be sad, and we’re allowed to miss people. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy. Sometimes in order to truly be happy, you have to confront your sadness and wade through your emotions.”

  A crease forms between her brows, a
s though she’s following, but not really. “So, you are sad, but you’re happy, too?”

  A laugh tumbles past my lips. “Yes. Do you remember my sister I told you about?” I ask nervously, my mouth going dry.

  Her eyes turn uncertain, and she nods, likely remembering I told her about Madison’s passing. “Yes.”

  “Well, as you know, we were twins, and I loved her. Sometimes, I think I loved her more than I love myself. So, when she passed away, it was really hard for me. It still is. It’s something I have to work to wade through every day. Because even though she’s been gone for a long time, I still miss her every day. I still think about her every day. Does that make sense?”

  Understanding dawns on her. “You wish you can bring her back?”

  Pressure builds in my nose and behind my lids. “All the time, but I can’t. And that’s okay, too. That’s a part of life.” I reach down for the photo album beside me and set it on the table in front of us.

  “Can I show you something?”

  She smiles, already scooting closer to see what it is. I open the album to the first page, revealing baby pictures of Madison and me.

  “Wow,” Ava breathes out. “You look the same.”

  “There were some obvious differences between us, but yes, we looked very similar.”

  We flip through a few pages and pause on the high school photographs of us. Ava takes it all in. She points at one of the pictures that includes my parents.

  “Is that your mom and dad?”

  “It is.”

  She glances at me. “Are they…?”

  She doesn’t finish the sentence, probably fearing the answer. I shake my head to put her at ease.

  “No, they’re still very much alive.”

  “Will I ever meet them?”

  I pause, not sure how I feel about that. A while has passed since our last conversation, but it’s still a fresh wound. Their abandonment. “Well, I don’t really talk to them because, over the years, we’ve had some fights. But do you…” My voice cracks, so I clear my throat, trying again. “Do you want to meet them?”

  “Maybe?”

  “It’s okay if you do, sweetie.”

  “Well, I have Grandma Belmira and Grandpa Benny, but it would be cool to have more grandparents.”

  Warmth curls in my chest, and I smile, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Then it’s settled. You’ll get to meet them.”

  We continue looking through the album, and once we get to the back, the blank page, I dig into my back pocket for the photo that’s been burning a hole through my pocket for the last few days.

  “The whole reason I’m showing you this album is because I wanted to talk about your mom.”

  Ava pauses. Her gaze swings to mine, confusion written all over her face. “But you’re my mom.”

  I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to hold in my emotion. “I know I am, baby. Always. But I’m actually talking about your biological mother.”

  Sadness falls over her face. “She didn’t want me.”

  My hands tremble when I pull out the photo. I had to beg my parents for it when I found out they had it. I thought I had done a good job, and they were on the verge of giving in, but all they did was turn their backs on me, just like they always did. I shouldn’t have been surprised when Baz had to leave for a business trip, soon after, and while he was gone, the photograph was magically mailed to me, as if they had changed their minds overnight.

  Only, I know that isn’t the case.

  There were no lengths that man wasn’t willing to go to make Ava and me happy. I have no doubt he paid a visit to my parents, and whatever it was that was said was enough to make them hand over the photograph.

  I peel back the clear film on the photo album, revealing the sticky interior. With trembling hands, I place the photograph between us, and I hear Ava’s ragged gasp.

  “Is that…is that you? Are you really my mom?”

  The first tear falls, and I swipe at it quickly. I look down at the photo and feel a clamp in my chest. My sister is smiling down at a newborn baby in her arms, her cheeks stained with tear tracks. She looks equally parts happy and sad in this photo. It tells the story of a teenaged girl having to give up a baby she was unequivocally in love with. It tells the story of a mother saying her first hello and her last goodbye to her daughter.

  I clear my throat, trying to keep the rest of my tears at bay, while I get the words out. My emotions have been getting the best of me lately, and today is no different.

  “No. It’s not me. This is my sister, Madison, and well…you.”

  Her little brows furrow as she processes. “So…Madison was my mom?”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “She’s still your mother. But yes.”

  “So, we really are family.”

  I pull her into my arms, squeezing her tightly. “Blood or not, you’ve always been my family, Ava.”

  Her little arms tighten around me. “Why does she look so happy and sad?” she whispers, still looking at the photograph.

  “Because she was young when she had you. And even though she wanted to, she couldn’t keep you. That’s why she looks so happy and sad.”

  I give her time to process, hoping it wasn’t too soon to do this. I hope I’m making the right decision here. When we eventually pull away, I look down at her, making sure she’s okay.

  “You doing okay?”

  “I think so. It makes me sad because she’s gone. But…I have you and I have Dad, and then I don’t feel so sad anymore.”

  “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

  She smiles through the mistiness in her eyes. “I love you, too, Mommy.”

  When I pull her back into my arms and hold her, I know everything will be okay. And almost as if she knows we need it, I feel a warmth surrounding us, and I choke back the sob at the idea of Madison here, embracing us, like she’s wanted to do her entire life.

  When I glance over my shoulder, I spot Baz leaning against the doorjamb, watching us. That same look on his face that Ava managed to capture in her drawing is there. The contentment. But there’s also something else there, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. There’s a blazing heat in his eyes. A protective gleam there that tells me he’d do anything for us, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I watch them from my perch in the doorway, and something strange happens in my chest. It’s like an unraveling of sorts. A warmth spilling into the cavity that takes my fucking breath away as I stare down at my girls. I never thought I’d be a man who could love another man’s child as his own, but when I look at Ava, all I feel is a protectiveness that I’ve only ever felt around Mackenzie. All I feel is the need to plow through any and everyone who dares to try to hurt them or take them from me.

  I don’t know when or how it happened, but they’ve become my whole world, and I wouldn’t go back. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  As if sensing my presence, Mackenzie looks up, her sandy blond hair framing her face as she does so. It’s a strange change, but it’s one I’ve embraced with open arms because it’s the real her. This is Mackenzie Wright. Not Mackenzie pretending to be Scarlett. Not Mackenzie seeking revenge. But Mackenzie, a woman mourning her sister, a woman raising a daughter, a woman in love with me. A woman who is going to share my last name. And I’ll never tire of it.

  Of her.

  Of them.

  Need fills my chest, expanding my lungs, and I have to refrain from stomping into the bedroom, tossing Mackenzie over my shoulder, and dragging her into the bedroom so I can fuck her. So I can get lost in her, shove my seed so far inside her, she has no choice but to be mine.

  Like our minds have a portal, a connection we’re unaware but completely aware of, her lips part as she stares up at me, and her eyes grow heavy lidded. She places a kiss on the top of Ava’s head and asks if she’s okay.

  I dig my cell out of my pocket, and I dial the only other woman in my life. She picks up on the first ring.

&
nbsp; “Where’s my baby girl?” she asks, and despite myself, I grin.

  “She’s here,” I say, catching both Mackenzie and Ava’s attention.

  Ava perks up, spinning toward me. “Is that Grandma?” she asks, already thrumming with energy.

  “It is. She wants to talk to you.” I hand off the phone to Ava, and almost immediately, she’s giggling and laughing, jumping into stories with my mother. While they’re doing that, I use this time to grab Mackenzie by the hand and drag her back down the hall to our bedroom. I lock the door behind me and stalk toward her, feeling a red haze of need.

  A pensive look flashes over her face. “Is something…wrong?”

  “Shhh.” I place my finger over her lips, shushing her. “I don’t want to talk right now, Mack. I just want to fuck you until you’re moaning my name. Until you’re coming all over my cock. Until my cum is rooted so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in there for days.”

  She moans, falling into me, and I take her mouth, as we tear at our clothes. I push her down onto the bed, watching the way her hair fans around her. Her bare breasts heave, a slight flush covering the mounds as she works to control her breathing. She’ll never say it, but she loves this. She loves the rough fucking. She loves the dirty talk. She loves being my little fuck toy. And I give it to her. I give it all to her and after? I make love to her, just the way she likes it.

  Without warning, I wrap a hand around her throat and slide down her body, licking her pussy through her underwear. She clamps a hand over her mouth, moaning as she does so. She’s trying desperately to keep quiet, but that won’t last long.

  I pull back and let go of her neck to free my cock. I yank her panties to the side and slam into her. She chokes on air, her nipples going rock hard with the thrust. I pull all the way out and thrust all the way back in, time and time again. When she least expects it, I pull out and yank her around, onto her hands and knees, and I fuck her like this. Whispering dirty things in her ears, I ram my cock into her pussy with my fist wrapped around her blond hair, and my other hand gripped tightly around her throat, forcing her to look at me.