Secrets & Lies

by Mia Ford

  I try to shift through what he said. It sounds like he’s insulting me, but…

  I almost ask Tom if he was worried about me. But I close my mouth on the words, knowing that they would just cause problems. I almost can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Right,” I say incredulously. “I’ll…do that.”

  He scoffs and slides off his seat. “Whatever.”

  He stalks away, his shoulders tense and bad temper written all over his face. I have a feeling that I’ll have to break up a fight at some point tonight, but Tom is used to getting kicked out of the bar; sometimes I think he does it just to see how far he can push me.

  I still don’t know what to think, though. I’ve always thought that there was more to Tom than meets the eye. He’s a bastard and he relishes in causing pain and frustration in everyone he meets, but his dedication to the Roughshod Rollers and its members is real.

  I just can’t figure him out.

  Not that I needed something else to think about tonight. I cast my mind back to the messages I exchanged with Jessica. But, as much as I hate to admit it, Tom is right about that. I’m here to work, not to mope. It’s time I start doing my job properly again.

  Because if Tom noticed that something was wrong, then it must have been obvious to everyone who visits the bar. I straighten my shoulders and stand tall, plastering a smile on my face as someone approaches me for a drink.

  I can think about Jessica and what I’m going to say to her later. Right now, I have a job to do.

  Tom didn’t approach me again tonight, and my prediction about needing to throw him out for fighting came true. He swore at me as he left, gesturing rudely, but it seemed more forced than usual, as though his heart wasn’t in it. Or maybe I’m just imagining things. Either way, others started leaving not long after that. It’s only Wednesday, so we don’t normally stay open very late, but the fight drove people from the bar earlier than usual. By nine-thirty, no one was there.

  I hesitate, and then close the doors. I told Jessica that I finished around ten, so it’s too early to go back to my place. What if I get there and she’s already arrived? I’m not emotionally prepared to face her, yet.

  I still don’t know what I’m going to say to her.

  So I dally around the bar, putting glasses away and straightening chair pillows. When that wastes only ten minutes, I grab out the broom; it’s been a while since the floor got a good clean.

  When it’s almost ten, I know I can’t put this off any longer. Jessica will be waiting for me soon. I wonder who she got to look after Owen at such short notice. Probably Allison; as amazing as Hazel sounds, even she wouldn’t be able to drop everything on a Wednesday night to babysit with only an hour or so of notice.

  Though, if it is Allison, it means that Kyle will soon know what’s going on, too. I glance at my phone, half expecting to see a message from my friend, but there’s nothing.

  Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I unlock my bike and put my helmet on. The world muffles and I flick the clear visor down. Then I kick the bike into gear and speed into the night.

  I don’t live very far away from the bar. It doesn’t take long before I’m pulling up out front, though maybe that’s because I’m dreading having to face Jessica. I take the stairs for extra time, trying not to drag my feet.

  I’m not surprised to see Jessica standing outside my apartment door. She’s leaning against the wall beside the door, looking down at her phone, and I pause, taking a moment to look at her. She doesn’t look distressed, and her short hair is tucked behind her ears as she reads. Her foot is tapping though, fidgeting restlessly, and I know she’s as anxious as I am.

  Maybe even more. She’s the one that confessed, after all. She must be worried about what I’ll say about it.

  I wish I knew what I was going to say.

  “Hey,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Jessica’s head shoots up straight away. She blinks at me, her eyes wide, and pushes herself off the wall. Her shoulders are tense.

  “Grant,” she breathes.

  It almost looks like she’s about to talk about what she said right there in the hallway. I move quickly to the door before she can say anything, pulling my keys out with a loud jangle.

  “I’ll let us in,” I say.

  She steps back, taking the obvious hint. I fumble with the keys for a moment, looking for the right one, and it takes me three tries to insert the key into the keyhole. She doesn’t say anything about it though, her hands clenched at her side.

  Finally, the door swings open, and I step back to allow her in first. She says an almost inaudible thanks before moving carefully past me. The last time she was here was when she arrived in the pouring rain, begging for the first time for me to give her a second chance.

  It’s almost funny to think how much has happened since then. On that night, I was completely certain that I wanted nothing more to do with Jessica. Then she showed up on my door, soaking wet and tired, desperate to talk to me.

  Now she’s here again. The circumstances aren’t that different, either. She’s still here asking for that second chance. But she doesn’t look as desperate as she did back then. There’s a determined look in her eyes, as though she knows she’ll do whatever I ask her to. She’s given me all the control in this; she won’t push anymore unless I let her.

  Will she be okay if I decide that we can only be friends? I glance at her. I don’t know if she will be, despite what she says. But she hasn’t pushed me for some time, and continues to claim that she’ll be happy with whatever I decide.

  I suddenly feel nervous. I left her this morning without warning, leaving only a message. What does she think about that?

  “Sorry,” I say to Jessica, my back to her. “About this morning.”

  “It’s fine,” she assures me.

  I glance at her. There’s sincerity in her voice. She isn’t mad at all. Does she think she deserves it because of everything she’s done? Despite her actions, I don’t want to go out of my way to hurt her. Even in my pettiest moments, I haven’t wanted her to feel the way I did.

  “Actually,” she continues before I can reply. “I need to say I’m sorry too.”

  “You’ve said it enough,” I reply, shaking my head.

  She gives me a sad smile. “I’m not sure it’s ever going to be enough. Everything that happened could have just been avoided if I’d only spoken to you at the time. You could have been there when Owen was born, we could have been a family. But I ruined all that. And I know I hurt you really badly. I was suspicious and stupid, and I should have trusted you more than that.”

  “Maybe we both should have trusted each other more,” I say with a sigh.

  “But…” Jessica draws in a deep breath and, as I watch, she pulls a folder out of her bag. It’s a simple manilla folder, shut loosely with a paperclip. She throws it on the table between us. “I want a clear slate. Maybe it’s selfish to ask that, but can we at least try?”

  “What is that?” I ask.

  She gives me a small smile. “Those are the notes I stole from Alex three years ago. I took pictures of everything he had found and printed them out so I could look over them. I kept them all these years. Maybe I thought I’d need them one day.”

  I think of my own folder of notes, the chains that have kept me trapped for so long.

  “I don’t need them anymore,” she says. “I don’t want them anymore. I still don’t know everything. But I think I know enough.”

  She sweeps the folder off the table. For a moment, I’m terrified that she’ll open it. I don’t want to see the evidence that Alex found.

  Then she strides over to the trash can and throws it inside.

  “Before I leave, I’m taking that straight outside,” she tells me. “This thing doesn’t need to exist anymore. It’s garbage.”

  I stare at her. My heart feels strangely light. What she just did… Laughter bubbles up in me. I don’t know if she realizes just what that meant to me.


  “Thanks,” I manage to say.

  She turns around. “I don’t know if I can make anything better, Grant. I know I’ve messed up. But…I still love you.” Her smile turns soft. “I never stopped loving you. I’m not asking you to trust me in return. But I want things to be better between us somehow. I want to be a family with Owen and I want us to be able to be in the same room, and talk and smile with each other, even if it’s only as friends. Can we have that?”

  There’s only one answer to that, the only answer that my heart is singing.

  “Yes,” I say, smiling slightly. “We can.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Grant

  A smile widens across Jessica’s face. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized just why I was here. Underneath all the hurt and the still healing unhappiness, this is what I want. I need Jessica like I need to breathe. Whatever it takes, I want to work this out if only so she’ll be at my side.

  When Ethan asked me, earlier, if I can bear not having Jessica in my life, I din’t known the answer. But I did as he begged me to and really, really thought about it. What would it be like if Jessica was no longer around?

  I try to imagine it. But I can’t. Jessica and I were together for two and a half years before she left abruptly. For three years, she’s been a shadow in my mind. In over five years, there has barely been a moment that she didn’t occupy my thoughts.

  And I realize that Ethan was right. Jessica has always been with me. I didn’t spend three years without her. I spent three years waiting and hoping that she would one day come back.

  Then she did. Somehow, miraculously, she returned, and she brought with her our son and the truth she was no longer afraid to give me. Now, right in front of me, she’s discarding that past. I stare at the folder in the can and think of my own folder.

  Jessica is discarding that part of our past. It isn’t going to go away, unfortunately, but it means we can start again without something like this hanging over it. She’s never going to see those notes again and wonder about them.

  I spy my folder. I never returned it to my room, just tossed it onto a dark corner of the kitchen counter. Slowly, I walk over and retrieve it.

  “What’s that?” Jessica asks.

  “My past,” I say with a small smile.

  Comprehension washes over her face. It’s the folder that started all this. I hold onto it. I haven’t wanted this for a long time. But I’ve needed it, almost as though I’ve wanted to constantly remind myself of everything that went wrong.

  But, suddenly, I don’t need it anymore.

  Before I can question myself on the wisdom of this, I drop the folder into the can with Jessica’s. It drops with a satisfying thump, and I realize that I’m trembling, barely daring to believe that I just did that. It’s terrifying to lose a part of my life that I’ve clung to so fiercely.

  On the other hand, I feel so free.

  “Grant?” Jessica asks.

  I look up at her with clear eyes. And, finally, the truth tumbles out of me. It’s the last thing that’s remained unsaid.

  “It was a frame,” I say, and her eyes widen. “I got framed by three of my friends who accidentally murdered that girl. The police never looked past the shoddy evidence; I was just a foster kid from some bad homes, and I had a reputation for being wild. There was no one to care what happened to me. For them, it was an open and shut case.”

  I pause. Jessica is just watching me, making no move to interrupt, drinking in all the new information.

  “Then the state lawyer comes along. He wasn’t like the others. The case was big enough that he wanted to give it his all. I think he came in believing I was guilty. I don’t know if he ever believed I was innocent. But he’s the one that found the discrepancies in the evidence. The whole state thought I was guilty. But, in court, he proved that I was innocent. He believed my alibi and spent hours tracking down proof until he found me on a security camera at a local store miles away from the murder site. After that, the prosecution’s case fell to pieces and I was released. The lawyer saved my life. He helped me relocate to Philadelphia; I was nineteen by then, and already too old for the foster system, so I didn’t have to deal with foster parents that thought I got off on a technicality.”

  “Did some people believe that?” Jessica asks quietly.

  “The arresting officer,” I grimace. “He was a real fucking piece of work.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica says, and I know she’s thinking of Alex’s interview with the man. “I didn’t like the sound of him.”

  I snort. “Most people don’t.”

  My shoulders slump. That was it, the last thing that Jessica didn’t know. My chest clenches and then loosens, and I’m almost dizzy with how light I feel. I’ve been carrying the weight of this around for a very long time.

  “No wonder you hate the police,” Jessica says with a small smile, and I’m glad she isn’t apologizing again, because I don’t need that right now.

  “There are good cops,” I admit. “I just had a bad experience. A really bad fucking experience.”

  We fall silent, both contemplating what has happened. I wonder what Jessica is thinking. Then I realize it doesn’t matter. She’s already made it clear that she doesn’t care about these things anymore. The only reason I told her the truth was for my sake, and for the sake of the relationship we’re going to try one more time.

  “I did miss you,” I say quietly. “I missed you a lot.”

  “I missed you too,” Jessica says, and she closes her eyes over her regret briefly. “I was such an idiot. It always felt like something was missing in my life, and I knew it was you.”

  I reach out and take her hands. Her breath catches and her eyes dart open to meet mine.

  “Let’s try this,” I say. “Really try it. Everything’s out in the open now. There’s no more secrets.” I pause. “I need you. You’re like air to me. I can’t imagine not having you in my life, not wanting you. It’s not going to be easy, like I said.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Jessica says, and there are tears in her eyes. “I completely understand. But I want to try anyway.” She swallows. “I won’t make you regret giving me another chance, Grant. I’m going to help you trust me again. You really believe we can make it work this time?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. It’s not the answer she wants, I know, but it’s the only one I can give. She smiles, understanding. “We can only try it.”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  She raises her hands and cups my cheers. Her hands are warm on my face.

  “I want to kiss you,” she says.

  “Then do it,” I reply.

  Her smile grows and she leans up to meet my lips. The kiss is soft, and I can feel every bit of happiness and love that she’s feeling. I know she loves me, but she hasn’t said it again yet, and I’m okay with that. It’s nice to know, but I’m not ready to return those words, not yet. Maybe later, if things work out the way we want them to, when I’m completely happy and content with the way everything is going.

  But not now, not when I know those darker, sadder emotions are still there. But as long as we get through those moments that are harder, when it becomes difficult to see or trust that this going to work out, I know we’ll be okay.

  Jessica pulls back. Her face is light with hope. She wants this. I want this. There’s no reason why we can’t do this.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “For giving me another chance.”

  I kiss her again, harder this time. Jessica bites my bottom lip, and I can’t help but groan into her mouth as she touches her tongue to mine. Suddenly, the air around us is heated instead of quietly content. I hadn’t called Jessica here with the intent of having sex. But my body reacts to her touch anyway, and I step in closer to her. She shudders and wraps her arms around my neck, her ankle curling around mine.

  Then we pull back, panting for air. I see Jessica swallow.

  “Sorry,” she says with a weak smile.

 
“Don’t be,” I say. “It’s fine.” I pause. “Is it fine?”

  Jessica smiles and plays with the strands of hair at the back of my neck that have fallen out of my ponytail. She presses her body closer to mine, and I can feel the thud of her heart. Or is that mine?

  “It’s definitely okay,” she purrs.

  A switch seems to flick in my mind. I laugh roughly and pull her in for another kiss, this one fierce as our tongues battle, curling around one another and mapping out each other’s mouths. Jessica’s hand tugs my hair free and, in retaliation, I tug a rough hand through her hair, messing it up and pulling lightly on the thick strands. She laughs into the kiss and pulls back.

  “I love it when you play with my hair,” she says huskily.

  “I know,” I chuckle. I push her back a step. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.”

  “So are you,” she points out. Then she grins and pushes me back. My knees hit the chair and I sit, surprised at the sudden change in my position. “Sit there.”

  I wonder what she’s up to as she takes another step back. Then all the breath whooshes out of me as she grabs the bottom of her shirt in both hands, winks at me, and then slowly shimmies it up over her body.

  She’s stripping for me.

  “Fuck,” I say, my mouth falling open as, bit by bit, her smooth stomach is revealed. I shudder and ache to get up and touch her, but I don’t want her to stop. My penis tightens uncomfortably in my hands as she finally pulls the shirt over her head.

  Then, swaying slightly to a beat that only she can hear, Jessica reaches behind her. The click of her bra unclasping sounds startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. I can’t breathe as I watch her, my hands clenched on my knees. She’s grinning as though she knows how I’m feeling and is using it to her complete advantage. Her bra falls to the floor, her breasts bouncing free, and she kicks it away before stretching her arms over her head, giving me a full view.