Good.
I pointed my finger so close to Vincent’s face that I pushed it against his cheek. “Believe what you want to believe because I let it go on for so long. I didn’t touch her, never even kissed her, I threw her under the bus for my own fame and glory. She was never pregnant. She never had an abortion. And I’ve regretted what I said ever since that day. Don’t ever speak to me about Luna again.” I turned around to see the rest of the crew staring at me with open mouths that could catch flies. “None of you fucking talk about Luna Nightingale to me. Ever.” I shoved Vincent against the wall again and headed toward the room where I dropped my stuff and slammed the door to keep everyone out.
I was furious at no one but myself.
I deserved the anger I felt for having to convince someone to believe me because I made sure the lie was so solid that no person would second guess me. It would take a lot of twisting to get the truth set free.
The bed creaked as I sat down. My fists clenched at my sides. Why did I let this go on for so long? Why didn’t I squash the lie after graduation?
Because I had gone too far. It was too late to turn around.
This was the fall out of keeping a dirty secret.
This was the fall out of being a liar.
And this was just the beginning.
Chapter Seven
Luna
“You’ve been quiet since we have gotten back,” my dad said, rolling the paint roller up the wall for the priming paint. It took hours to get rid of everything Zac Efron, and then he had to fill all the holes in the wall and wait for them to dry. While we waited, we moved all of the furniture out into the living room.
I threw away the metal frame of the bed and bought a new one. A plain headboard that had a chic farm look to it with a worn white finish. It was simple and a definite upgrade.
“Yeah, I guess I have been. I’m sorry.” The last thing I wanted was to make my dad feel like I didn’t want to talk to him. Easton had a habit of making me feel like the worst version of myself. That hadn’t always been the case, but it was now.
“Do you want to talk about Easton more?” he asked and then coughed under his mask he wore to protect himself from the fumes. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, Star. If the pain was so bad that it was memorable; it doesn’t matter how much time passes, pain doesn’t just go away.”
“I’m just… you know, I’m mad. I’m so damn mad at him for thinking he could just think that confronting me would be enough to just erase everything and go back to the way things used to be. He has a lot of nerve.”
“Of course he does, he’s trying to get you back in his life. Maybe he isn’t as dumb as I thought he was. You’re my shining star, anyone who wouldn’t want you in their lives is a fucking idiot if you ask me,” he grumped, like the older protective dad that he was.
And I loved him for it.
I smiled as I rolled the paint roller on the wall with him. Even with the entire Easton situation, I was glad to be home.
A knock at the door made us turn around. I saw Oliver and London standing there, and Oliver had on white overalls that were almost too short, but I knew he planned on getting color on them. Everything was a fashion statement with him. London, on the other hand, looked like she just rolled out of bed. Her hair was still in a bun from yesterday by how frizzy it was, and she had on sweatpants and a hoody that said ‘basic’ on it. She held a Starbucks coffee in her hand to prove the statement.
“Hey London.” My dad got up and walked over to give her a hug. “Oliver,” he chuckled as he gave my other best friend a hug.
“Mr. N. May I say you are looking very handsome. Mrs. N is a lucky lady.”
My dad rolled his eyes and made a beeline to leave the room. “I’m going to go up and get a few drinks and make us some lunch. I’ll be back.”
“Alright dad,” I replied, never looking away from the job at hand. I had my tongue out as I focused. I made sure to keep the roller in a straight line and made sure the light pink color was fully covered by the blanket of white.
“Want to tell us anything?” London said, and at the same time, she and Oliver crossed their arms across their chest and gave me the evil eye. They hung around each other too much if they were taking on each other’s quirks.
I shook my head as I dipped the roller in the paint tray, then slapped it back on the wall. “Nope.”
“Nothing? Not even… anything?” Oliver prodded, taking a step forward to crowd my space.
I couldn’t think of anything. “No, what are you guys going on about?” I asked.
“Um, that Easton talked to you at Lowe’s, and you whooped his ass with words! That! Does that ring a bell, missy?” Oliver snapped his fingers and rested his palm on his hip as he glared at me.
My eyes shut as I took a deep breath to calm myself. I had forgotten that everyone would know what happened in a matter of seconds. I knew that about Camden, but Boston habits were still inside me. This wouldn’t happen in Boston. No one cared enough to gossip; people were too busy, but no, not here in Camden.
There were three things people cared about in this damn town.
Football.
Their business.
And everyone else’s business.
It was a town that was just rich with the hope of the future. I snorted internally at my own joke. Yeah, right. Camden was in the past just as much as my heart was.
“Right. That,” I said and then left it alone. I was tired of talking about it, tired of thinking about it, just done.
“That? That’s all you have to say? What happened? Tell us everything, Luna. You never leave us out. You know we don’t believe what anyone else says. We are worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be!” I snapped, and Oliver gasped as if I slapped him. I guess in a way I did. I never yelled at them. I dropped the paint roller, and it hit the tray at an odd angle, causing splatters of white paint to fly in the air and hit me in the face. “I deserved that,” I said, spitting out a glob of paint. “Yuck,” I said, wiping my tongue on my t−shirt. “Ah, gross.”
“You deserved that,” Oliver said.
“Yep,” London agreed.
“Karma. I know.” I blinked up at them through white lashes since they were also covered in paint. I sighed and pointed to the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll fill you in, but I don’t really want to talk about it anymore after this, okay? I’m just done with Easton. I told myself that I might live here in Camden now, but I’m ready to move on, and that means from Easton too.”
“Well, good. We have been telling you that for years now,” London said, then jumped up and planted herself on the chopping block that sat in the middle of the small kitchenette.
“Yeah I know.” I opened the tiny fridge and grabbed us a few White Claws. I didn’t care what anyone said, they were delicious, and it was five o’clock somewhere.
“Was that a White Claw?” my dad shouted from upstairs.
We all chuckled. Dad had supersonic hearing when it came to his White Claws.
“Maybe!” I yelled to him.
“Open me one! Don’t have fun without me,” he begged. “I’m almost done making the sandwiches.”
“Your dad is my favorite person,” Oliver sighed, and then a heavy, sad tension grew. No one wanted to talk about his cancer. No one wanted to believe that dad wouldn’t survive. He might not be here next year to yell at us about having fun without him. He always wanted to be included. He always wanted to be a part of the gang, and we never stopped him. James Nightingale was the best man known in existence, and it wasn’t fair that he had Leukemia.
Life was like that though, wasn’t it?
Not wanting to talk about my dad because I’d probably just start crying, I snatched another White Claw from the fridge and got it ready for him. “So, I was just at Lowe’s, picking out a color for my room and Easton popped out of nowhere and said, “That’s a nice color, Moon—”
“He did not call you by the nickname he gave you?” Oliver h
itched a sassed breath. “No, he didn’t.”
“He did.” I sipped my yummy grapefruit drink. “I asked my dad and Ethan—”
“Ethan was there? Oh my gosh, was he upset?” London interrupted.
“Can you guys let me finish?” I grinned. I always loved their enthusiasm for my life updates, but they never let me get a word out otherwise.
They stayed silent, and with their eyes and hands, gestured for me to continue.
“Anyway, he said he wanted to meet for coffee, that he was sorry, that he loved me and wanted to make things right, but I basically said that it was time to let go of everything and move on. And he said he wouldn’t let go. That he would still try. I told him not to, but he kept yelling at me in Lowe’s, and I called him a fool, and I’m pretty sure he agreed. It was a mess. Anyway, that’s the gist. The end. That’s all folks.” Now was the time for them to jump in and say something, to say anything, but they sat there, open−mouthed, and silent.
“Really? Now you have nothing to say?” I asked, bringing the beverage to my lips.
“Just processing that he confessed his love for you, and you turned your back. Girl, good for you!” Oliver exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you. Make him work for it.”
“There will be no working,” I said and then pretended to wash my hands clean of the situation. “It’s over. I’m ready to move on.”
Both of them looked at me puzzled, and then laughed uncontrollably like a bunch of crazy hyenas.
“What?” I asked over their annoying laughter. I didn’t like to be laughed at.
“You. You thinking that. This situation is far from over,” London said.
Oliver did a few deep breathing exercises as if he were in a birthing class, and London held his hands to calm him through it.
All to stop his laughing.
How were these people my best friends?
“Honey, it’s just getting started. You know, Easton. He won’t let up until he has what he wants,” Oliver said through a shaking tenor from laughing so damn hard.
It wasn’t that funny. Heck, it wasn’t funny at all.
“And what does he want? My forgiveness? I’m pretty sure I gave him that today.” At least, I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t, but everything was pretty ‘let’s move on’ so forgiveness was just bundled up in the entire package.
“You, Luna. He wants you.”
I shook my head and guzzled my drink. “No, he doesn’t. He made that clear when—”
“He was a fifteen-year-old dipshit? Come on; he’s a man now. He might not be that guy.”
“It doesn’t matter because, to me, he will always be that guy, London.”
“Well, maybe that’s what he wants to prove to you. Maybe he wants to prove that he isn’t that guy,” Oliver said.
“I brought ham sandwiches!” my dad sang from the stairs, interrupting our little group get together.
“Oh, you make the best sandwiches, Mr. N. You put the right amount of mayonnaise and mustard on it. It’s a talent, really,” Oliver said, snagging a sandwich right off the top of the platter.
“It’s the bread. Tessa makes the best homemade bread; it’s soft and fluffy. God, she’s just perfect. Isn’t she?” My dad had hearts in his eyes as he talked about mom, biting into the sandwich and chewed absent−mindedly as he daydreamed about his wife.
It was sickeningly cute how in love they were after so many years of being together.
I wanted that.
But with someone else. Not Easton.
“Maybe it’s time for me to hit the dating scene,” I said, biting into the sandwich dad made, and the ham, lettuce, and pickle burst across my tongue perfectly making me groan. It wasn’t deli ham; it was real ham. Mom refused to have that ‘processed shit’ as she called it and only bought the ham that people made during Thanksgiving.
It made the difference. Trust me on that.
“Well, you need to make a list because you’re redoing your room, you want to hunt a spot for the shop you want to open, and now you want to date. Star, there isn’t enough time for all that. So, why not just cross the dating off your list. You know?” Dad waved his half-eaten sandwich through the air as he spoke with animation. “Men suck. They are a waste of time.”
“Preach, Papa N. Preach!” Oliver lifted his name in praise as if dad were really preaching god’s word.
“Well, you don’t suck, dad. You’re pretty perfect.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t use to. Didn’t your mom ever tell you how we met?”
“No,” I said and wished I had a seat to get comfortable to listen to this story, but the living room was packed with my belongings. “Tell me, tell me!”
“1973. A drive−in movie theater. The Exorcist played. Everyone was on their way to see it. Your mom was on a date with another guy. I was there with a few of my friends. We were a bunch of rowdy assholes that kept throwing popcorn on the screen. We made hand puppets too that ruined the movie, and your mom, the firecracker that she is, stomped right up to me and said, ‘You better stop that. You’re acting like a bunch of no good heathens. You’re ruining the movie for other people, and that’s just rude.’ My dad’s voice hitched higher to portray mom, and it made us all laugh. “I was completely in love with her in that moment. She was so damn pretty. Her hair was down and long; she wore bell bottoms and a crop top. She was a stunner, but she wasn’t there with me. So I wrapped my arm around her, pulled her to me, and kissed her.”
“You didn’t!” London said.
All of us had stopped eating our sandwiches, completely hooked on my parent’s love story.
“I did,” he said, smiling at the fond memory.
“What happened next? What did mom do?”
“What do you think she did?” He snorted and rubbed his cheek as if it flamed with memory. “She slapped the dickens out of me. I never stopped pursuing her. Took me a full year to get her to go on a date with me, and she only agreed so I’d shut up.”
“And here you are,” I said.
“And here I am. I told her I was the love of her life after the kiss, and she didn’t believe me.”
“Way to prove her wrong, Mr. N!” Oliver hollered and held his hand up for a high five that my dad met with equal vigor.
Then dad frowned and tossed his sandwich down. “I was an insensitive teenage boy, and we are assholes for the most part. I don’t like Easton, I hold a grudge for what he did to you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t grown into a fine man. I’ve heard good things about him around town, but you’re my baby. I’m always on your side. Still, men aren’t worth it. I had to prove myself to your mom. I wasn’t worthy for her at the time, and she knew it.”
As much as I wanted my own love story, I wanted my own life more. Dad was right; dating could wait. It was time to get my feet planted on the ground, get myself settled, and then maybe I could open my heart to someone.
I stood on my tiptoes and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek. “Well, I hope to find a guy like you one day dad. How about we finish painting the room? And then later, I want to look at property available downtown for a boutique.”
“Would you be hiring by any chance?” Oliver asked, crossing his legs at the knee. “I got fired from the coffee shop for writing ‘fuck you’ on a coffee cup.”
“Oliver, you can’t write that on a coffee cup. It’s rude.”
“Well, so was a guy that called me a faggot,” Oliver said in a small, insecure voice. He picked at the sapphire polish that painted his nails. “Small town bigots, you know. They never go away,” he whispered.
Anger bubbled up inside me from someone being so small−minded. Oliver was a kind person. One that deserved to be treated equally. He was bright, just like the rainbow, and he wasn’t afraid to be himself, but there were people around here that didn’t have the same beliefs as we did.
I pulled him in for a hug and rubbed his slender back. He really needed to gain weight. He was getting too skinny. Jeez, I sounded like my mom. “Of course, you a
lways have a place with me. You’d have to be serious. No slacking. This is my dream we are talking about.”
He clapped his hands together, and tears swam in his eyes. “Really?” He reached for my hands and held on tight, popping a few of my fingers. “It will be my dream too. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Pay will suck at first,” I warned.
“That’s okay. I’ll live. Thank you, Luna. I know I don’t have to worry about getting fired for protecting myself with you.”
I gave a sharp nod and lifted my chin. “Damn straight. If anyone gives you a hard time, either kick them out on their ass or send them to me. I have a mean left hook.” I balled up my fists, and my dad reached over and plucked my thumbs out of my fists.
He patted my arm. “Unless you want your thumbs broken, I recommend you keep them across your fingers, Star. I’ve failed as a father if I haven’t taught you how to hit.”
Okay, so I might not have a mean left hook.
But it was the thought that mattered, right?
Chapter Eight
Easton
“Yes ma’am. Anytime, Ms. Williams,” I climbed down from the ladder that was currently leaning against a tree and held the cat out for Ms. Williams to take. I came out here every damn week. I wasn’t sure what the cat was trying to do, but at this point, I thought it was just fucking with me, so I had to help it down.
“Oh, you’re such a sweet man, Easton.” Her old voice shook with age as she petted the top of the cat’s head. “I appreciate you saving Mr. Hemsworth.”
I held back my laughter from the cat's name and just kept a smile on my face. “It’s what I’m here for Ms. Williams.” She was a sweet lady. Her husband died a year ago, and she was always calling the fire department for some reason.
Lying Hearts Page 6