A Sea of Lies

by H Dillon Hunt

  “I know that feeling,” he says quietly. “I used to wish we were poor and that all we had was each other,” Sam responds, turning his face towards me. “I wanted to live in a tiny little house where we were forced to speak and interact with each other instead of a mansion where you could go days without seeing another soul. Is that bad; does that make me ungrateful?”

  “No, that makes you human,” I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper. “We weren’t built to be alone.”

  His expressive lips give way to a soft smile. It reaches inside of me and sheds light on every dark piece of my heart.

  “Tell me something about you, Sam,” I insist. “I want to know what makes you tick.”

  Something flashes in his eyes but he bites his lip to keep from saying whatever it is. My eyes drop to his lips and I find myself losing my breath. Sam watches me watch him, an amused grin taking over his face.

  “Not much makes me tick, Aubree,” he says in a low voice. I can feel the rumble of his words in the hand he still had draped over mine. My skin starts to heat despite the crisp air. “But I will show you how I blow off steam.”

  His hand slips off of mine and the cool air is biting against the warmth left from his skin. He stands up and holds out his hand to help me up. I take it, curious, and let him pull me to my feet.

  He grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, dropping it at our feet. He steps closer to me, his fingers grasping the zipper of my hoodie, well his hoodie. He tugs it down and slips the jacket off my shoulders, leaving me in nothing by my shorts and a tank-top.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, a little breathless. My stomach dips at the heat in his eyes.

  “Just trust me,” he grins, taking my hand. He pulls me with him as he walks across the sand to the edge of the water. I start to resist when I realize what he’s doing, rooting my feet and tugging back against his hand.

  “Oh no,” I laugh nervously. “No, no, no. I am not going in there, its freezing!”

  “That’s the point,” he laughs, tugging on my hand. “Come on, don’t be a chicken. Cold water swimming has lots of health benefits.”

  “Oh yeah, health benefits my ass,” I scoff, crossing my arms. “The only thing I’m going to get from jumping in there is hypothermia.”

  “No, you won’t,” he smiles patiently. “It reduces stress, increases circulation, gives you an endorphin high...I mean if you’re that scared, you don’t have to-”

  “Okay, okay! Fine,” I huff. “I’ll do it.”

  He grins, pleased with himself, and takes my hand. We walk slowly into the ocean and I yelp as the icy water splashes my toes. I hold my breath and take another step and my feet sting as the water laps at my ankles. I get another step in and when the frigid water reaches my knees, I want to turn back.

  “Okay, you’re right,” I wrench my hand free and turn around. “I’m a chicken. I don’t want to-SAM!”

  I squeal as he grabs me around the waist, his laughter ringing in my ears as he lifts me off my feet and marches us the rest of the way into the water. For a moment, just before he lets us fall sideways into the freezing water, I feel his rumbling laughter in his chest all the way to my toes. It makes my stomach dip and my cheeks flush hot before I’m engulfed in the stinging cold water.

  My scream is cut short as the air whooshes out of my lungs. The cold is bitter; it pierces my skin with brutal force. My heart is racing in my chest so fast I think it might burst out of me. I squirm and thrash, Sam’s hot skin slipping against my back as he holds me against his chest. I still myself so I can soak in his warmth. His grip on me loosens as I stop trying to break free. I turn around to face him, our chests brushing with our rapid breathing.

  “Y-you are ab-absolutely, insane.” I manage through chattering teeth. “Who d-does this for f-fun?”

  “Crazy people,” he shivers, pulling me against him for warmth. Even in the cold water, I feel my cheeks flush. “This is so not worth the health benefits.”

  My jaw drops and I smack his arm. “Are you telling me you’ve never done this before?”

  “Nope, this is my first time,” he relents, a grin tugging at his lips as he walks us back to the shore. “I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

  “Sam!” I laugh despite my exasperation as I snatch the hoodie off of the blanket and wrap it around me. “I can’t believe you!”

  “I’m surprised you even went in, stubborn as you are.” He chuckles, pulling his shirt back on. He picks up the blanket we were sitting on and wraps it around my shoulders.

  “Well, I didn’t really have much choice when you decided to dunk me,” I say defiantly, glaring at the bitter waves. “I’ll never look at the ocean the same again.”

  This makes him laugh heartily. I grin up at him, I love seeing him like this so much I almost want to go jump back in the water.

  “I’m okay with that,” he smiles down at me, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “Now every time you look at the ocean, you’ll think of me.”

  Chapter 7

  Bree

  Present

  I get off work early and decide to go for a run. I have too much pent-up energy and I need to burn it off. I change clothes when I get home and head out onto the beach to stretch. I grab my ankle and pull it behind me while I scan the empty sand.

  Sam runs by our house every day around this time. He doesn’t know I see him, but whenever I’m home, I wait and watch him run by. His house is merely a mile down the beach from mine. I have always felt a small semblance of peace knowing he’s still so close to me, even when he feels oceans away. Lately, I’ve contemplated going outside when he runs by, saying hello. I’ve always been too scared. The one time I tried to go to him, he was gone. Seeing him today was a shock to my system. I wasn’t prepared for how it would make me feel.

  Without thinking, I turn to the left and run in the direction of his house.

  The day after he showed up here, I felt so much guilt and confusion over how I could still feel so strongly for him in the midst of my grief. Two years have passed since the end of our relationship. It’s been another year since Ryan’s death, but nothing has changed. I still felt every bit as close to Sam as the day out on this very beach when we showed each other our hearts and realized that they were the same.

  But so much has changed since then. I’m not the same person I used to be, and he can’t be either. There is so much I still don’t know about Sam, so much I never bothered to ask about when we knew each other so long ago.

  I don’t know how to feel about him coming back into my life. It’s something I always hoped for, something I always knew was inevitable when I was ready. But am I ready? What if I’m not and I ruin any chances of ever having anything with Sam again?

  There is so much left unsaid between the two of us, so many things we failed to address. My life has been nothing more than a series of bad timing and crappy luck. I don’t want that fate to affect Sam and me again.

  He walks out his back door onto the steps as I approach his house. Suddenly, I very much regret my decision to run by here. I don’t know what caused this error in judgment. I guess just allowing my mind to wander back to memories from the past made me nostalgic. I haven’t been to this part of the beach in two years.

  I’m not in running shape by any means, so I conveniently get a cramp in my side just as I decide to turn back before he sees me. Directly in front of his house. It hurts so bad I have to stop and catch my breath. I lean over, resting my hands on my knees panting. Dammit, why do I eat so much freaking candy?

  From the corner of my eye, I see feet approaching but I refuse to look up. Sam holds out a bottle of water and I snatch it from him and turn towards the ocean. I take a long sip and try to steady my breathing. I don’t know what to say to him, I didn’t come here with the intention of saying anything to him. He’s just all I’ve thought about today and I craved his presence again. Maybe I wanted to tell him that.

  “Since when do you run?” I can hear t
he smile in his voice, even though I won’t look at him.

  “I don’t,” I gasp for air and plop down onto the sand where I’m standing. Sam doesn’t sit down but I can feel his eyes on my face so I close mine.

  “Go away,” I tell him.

  “You’re the one that showed up at my house,” he says evenly.

  “Technically, I’m not at your house,” I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. His back is to the sun, blacking out his silhouette so I can’t see his face. “Just the general vicinity.”

  “Right,” he grins. I can hear it in his voice. I know that soft undertone like I know myself. He’s amused by me, even though he’s waiting. Waiting for me to explain why I’m here when we both know I’ll see him in about twenty-four hours. Waiting for me to explain why I never reached out to him after all this time. Waiting, waiting, always waiting on me.

  I suddenly chicken out of this half thought out plan to see him before he comes over tomorrow. I guess I thought it would be good to break the ice without anyone around, but now I’m not so sure. I just wanted to tell him...What exactly?

  I miss you. I want you. I need you in my life.

  Nope, not going there. I need to get out of here, like, yesterday.

  “I have to go.” I stand up so quickly I stumble a bit. He reaches out a hand and catches my arm. His touch makes my heart leap into my throat.

  “Aubree,” his voice is velvet, it smoothes over my raw nerves. I close my eyes to regain my composure as I pull my arm from his grasp.

  “I have to go,” I say again, taking off in the direction of my house. I call over my shoulder as I rush away, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I kick myself the whole way home.

  ***

  I make it out of the hospital around four o'clock the next day, just in time to run home and make myself casually presentable before Sam comes over at six. I have to be careful; if I look too nice I will live with constant badgering and sidelong grins from the twins for the indefinite future. But at the same time, I haven’t felt this giddy and nervous to see a guy since... well since two years ago when I spent most of my time with Sam. Giddy because obviously, it’s Sam. Nervous because he probably thinks I’m a nutter after showing up at his house yesterday, telling him to go away and then running off like my pants were on fire.

  When I get home I assume Elle caught wind of Madison’s evil plan because the house isn’t the usual disaster. We often have three small mirrors and a random pile of makeup strewn across the kitchen table. There’s one bathroom and we all have varying shifts at the hospital so that’s our makeup station, but it’s all cleaned up and tucked away in little baskets on the shelf behind the table. We bought these baskets for that very purpose months ago, but they have never been used. The floor is visible in the laundry room off of the kitchen, whereas ninety-nine percent of the time it’s piled high with a rainbow of dirty scrubs. Elle even went as far as to do the dishes that had been piling up all week, something only Maddie and I do.

  Elle comes flouncing down the hall and I cock an eyebrow at her.

  “What?” she asks innocently, dumping the pile of laundry in her arms on the table and begins folding it.

  “You cleaned,” I say accusingly.

  “So?” she says, making a neat stack of scrub tops.

  “And you’re not only washing laundry, but you’re also folding it.” My eyes narrow. “You probably only napped for an hour today if you got all this done.”

  She doesn’t say a word, she just grins at me while she hangs mismatched socks on our “Save the House Elves” board. I roll my eyes but she sees my exasperated smile. “I’m going to shower, someone bled on me again.”

  “Put on some of that vanilla body butter in the bathroom,” she calls after me. “And fix your damn hair!”

  I shoot her the bird around the bathroom door before slamming it. I’m not putting on any damn vanilla scented anything.

  I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom and I’m not coming out until Sam leaves.

  Chapter 8

  Bree

  Three years ago...

  The dinner crowd cleared out around eight at the seafood restaurant I waitress at, so I go home earlier than usual. Ryan might be home tonight and I have the urge to try and talk to him. I haven’t seen him in over a week. I haven’t spoken to him in almost a month. Well, that’s not true. I’ve spoken, he just hasn’t responded. But I’m hoping to talk to him tonight. I’m done with the silent torture, we’re either going to work things out or we’re getting a divorce. I scoff at that, we never really should have gotten married in the first place.

  When I get home, I decide to cook dinner. Maybe a different approach will soften Ryan up enough to at least look in my general direction. I gather the ingredients to cook the parmesan chicken Sam made us for lunch last week. I commented on his good cooking so he insisted he showing me how easy it was. I smile to myself as I move the chicken breast to the pan, remembering the laughter in Sam’s eyes when I wiped flour on his cheek.

  The back door slams shut and I jump, spilling breadcrumbs across the counter. I look up and attempt a smile at Ryan. “You hungry?” I ask his retreating figure “I’m making dinner.”

  He continues down the hallway, unfazed. The guest bedroom door opens and slams shut just as quickly.

  I take a deep breath and slide the pan into the oven. Anger floods through me for the first time since everything blew up. I keep telling myself that it’ll be fine, that he will calm down and forgive me. That he will stop blaming me and punishing me.

  But he won’t even look at me. He cheats on me, he’s never home; when he is home he treats me like I’m a ghost.

  And I put up with this, why? Because it’s all my fault? Sure, we can blame it on me but I didn’t choose this. I never meant for any of this to happen and I’m hurting just as badly as he is. Why can’t he see that?

  I’m storming down the hall and throwing the guest bedroom door open before I can talk myself out of it. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off. He has remnants of red lipstick smeared on his mouth and he smells like cheap perfume. Why does the blatant evidence of his infidelity not hurt me? It just enrages me. It disgusts me.

  “I’m not doing this anymore, Ryan,” I seethe. “You haven’t spoken a word to me in over a month. You’re sleeping around, I never see you. We may not have a normal marriage but I’m your wife, dammit, and I will not be treated this way anymore.”

  His sneer is vicious. His gray eyes are as cold and dark as he looks at me with blatant disgust.

  “Not fair to you?” he growls, walking over and glaring down at me.

  “No, it’s not!” I scream, “You treat me like trash! I’m not-”

  “Why don’t you ask Jackson what’s fair?” His voice is low and sharp. It slices me open and bleeds out all my anger.

  I stagger back a step, the breath in my lungs freezing like ice.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He stares coldly at me. “And as far as our marriage goes, it was your idea and it’s your problem if you don’t like how I am. I was never your husband, only a means to an end.”

  He shoves past me and I hear the back door open and slam back closed a few seconds later.

  I feel smaller than I’ve ever felt in my life. These deflated balloons of lungs in my chest feel as though they weigh a thousand pounds as I try to breathe through the pain. I blink back tears, turning and slowly walking away. A cold and distant feeling settles over me as I walk slowly back into the kitchen. I don’t even recognize him anymore. He used to be my best friend; we had a comfortable and easy relationship. I could always rely on him. Now he’s a monster. A cruel and horrible monster.

  And he’s right, whispers a sinister voice in the back of my mind.

  I stare numbly at the floor for a long time, the realization that this is what my life has been reduced to slowly settling over me. The grief I’ve been feeling for months choking me.

  The timer bee
ps loudly behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I pull the food out of the oven and place it in containers, planning to put it in the fridge, but my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from Sam.

  Sam: I have a sad song for you. “I Wish I Was” by The Avett Brothers

  Warmth floods through me. It’s the feeling of stepping out into the sun from a cold, dark place. I glance at the food on the counter and quickly respond to his text.

  Me: You hungry?

  His response is almost immediate.

  Sam: Starving.

  Me: I’ll be there in ten minutes

  ***

  Sam

  Aubree walks in exactly ten minutes after I get her text. She doesn’t knock. I hear her come in the side door in the kitchen and set things on the counter. I get up off the couch and go to her, knowing she’s not okay. She’s not talking, that’s my first sign. If there’s one thing I have learned about this woman, it’s that she’s rarely quiet. She pulls plastic containers of food out and sets them on the counter. She doesn’t acknowledge me as I lean against the opposite counter and fold my arms, watching her.

  She sets the last container down and stops, placing her hands flat on the counter and squeezing her eyes closed. Something is bothering her. Something she can’t hide behind a snarky remark or a joke. She’s vulnerable before me for the first time since I’ve met her.

  I hesitate, but I finally go to her, placing my hands gently on her shoulders. She doesn’t jump, rather, she leans into me as I turn her to face me and pull her against my chest. I’ve never held her before, but she melts against me as if we embrace this way every day. Her arms wind around my neck and I wrap mine around her shoulders.

  “What is it, Aubree?” I whisper smoothing my hand down the messy waves of her hair.

  She shakes her head, squeezing me tighter and burying her face against my chest. I hold her tighter too, resting my chin on top of her head. I hold her like she’s about to fall apart, and eventually, she does.