“I didn’t even know you existed until last night,” I said bluntly. “Our mom left me before you ever came along.”
Her fingers played with one of the puppy’s ears for a few seconds as she seemed to think over my words. “She left you with my Lala too?”
Old pains and bitterness flared in my chest. “No.” Tilting my head toward the stairs, I said, “Lala wants you to go eat breakfast.”
Nora just watched me with those wide eyes as I started past her, not moving or saying a word until I was almost to my room—my mom’s old room. “You would have left me?”
“What?” I asked, voice maybe a little too harsh as I turned on her.
“If you knew I sixisted,” she said, getting the word wrong. “You would have left me too?”
Flashes of my life burst through my mind in an instant. That box I’d tried so hard to keep closed tight breaking open and filling me with an ice-cold dread. “With our mom?” I asked, horror and wrath dripping from my lips.
Nora’s eyebrows drew close as she gave a small nod.
“I would’ve taken you and ran,” I said slowly, honestly. “I would’ve made sure she would’ve never been able to find you.”
“Like hide ’n seek?”
I blinked quickly as I was slammed back into Nora’s reality—into all the innocence. “Go eat, Nora.”
I hurried into the room and shut the door behind me, pressing up against it as nightmares consumed my mind until I was a trembling mess. Whether because of Manhattan or being immersed in bits of my past again, I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter.
Because they hadn’t broken me then, and they wouldn’t now.
I sucked in steeling breaths until everything was trapped behind the walls I’d spent so many years building. Until I had a handle on myself again.
With one last harsh exhale, I pushed from the door and headed for my bags. Searching through everything until I’d found a change of clothes. My eyes caught on my phone, on the shattered screen, and my movements slowed. Faltered as that last night in Manhattan tried creeping through my defenses.
A shiver raked down my spine as I forced that night back.
“Fuck you, Chris,” I mumbled as I grabbed up my phone and went to shower, dropping my phone in the bathroom trash where it and the past belonged.
* * *
I choked and nearly spit the liquid back into the cup that afternoon but somehow managed to swallow it through my coughing.
“Lala,” I wheezed and coughed a few more times. Holding up the Mason jar, I inspected it closely. “What the hell is in this?”
She didn’t turn from where she stood at the island, just pointed behind her with a huge chef’s knife. “Don’t you dare use that language, young lady, you are not the owner of this house. Manners.”
I swallowed back any retort I may have had. “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s real tea,” she explained.
“This is pure sugar.”
“Mmhm. And it’s good for the soul.” She did a little dance as she went back to chopping, the woman never seeming to tire.
We were in a weird in-between time where lunch was ending in the kitchen and dinner was being prepped. All the while, first responders continued coming in and out to devour a homemade lunch.
Lala hadn’t stopped moving, and I was exhausted. I didn’t know how she did this every week by herself.
But I could see it was appreciated and she was adored. Every person who’d come into the kitchen to make a plate had stopped to give her a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Every one of them had affectionately called her Lala as if they all claimed her as their own. Whenever Nora was around, people doted on her as if she was their little sister or child.
I was thankful my grandma had been loved and cared for when we’d abandoned her. Despite the unwelcome resentment, I was thankful Nora had somewhere safe to grow and people who adored her . . . beyond thankful. But I’d spent most of the time at the sink doing dishes so no one would see that, with each person, I hated myself a little more for being part of the reason they’d needed a makeshift family.
“It’s gonna give me a heart attack, Lala.” I hesitantly sniffed the drink in my hand. “Or diabetes.”
She scoffed, then turned and gave me a soft smile. “I have been drinking that since I was in my momma’s belly, same as your momma and you. You will be fine.”
“I don’t think I’ll make it through this one glass.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to whatever it was she was chopping. “Come tomorrow, I’m betting you’ll be pouring yourself another glass.”
“I doubt tha—” I pressed harder against the counter, barely managing to keep my composure when a man walked into the kitchen.
Hardened stare that quickly scanned the room before settling on me. Corded muscles filled heavily tattooed arms. Lips twisted into a lethal smirk that somehow looked natural.
Dressed casually, when every other person today had been in some type of uniform.
Everything about him screamed trouble. Danger. The real kind . . . because one look at him, and I knew his kind.
Sinfully handsome, bad to their core, with a unique ability to get women to do anything before leaving them broken.
I’d spent most of my life surrounded by men like him.
Lala dropped the knife and made an excited sound. In the second it took me to glance at her, his smirk had transformed into a warm, charming smile.
“Hey, Lala,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her cheek and enveloped her in a quick hug. “Is there any chance you need all the bread in my truck?”
Lala clucked her tongue and held a hand to her chest, her cheeks reddening. “How did you know?”
With a brief shrug, the man started backing away. “Had a feeling.”
“My Reed!” a tiny voice cried out, preceding Nora as she came running into the kitchen, barreling into the side of the man and holding tight.
I watched, a mixture of surprise and wariness unfurling in my stomach as he grabbed her up and swung her onto his back with the ease of a practiced move.
“How’s my favorite girl?” he asked as he headed out of the kitchen.
And Lala just let them go—let Nora go.
I followed a few steps, unsure if I should stop them or not.
Nora had responded softly to almost every person who had spoken to her that day. Some people, she’d just offered shy smiles or refused to speak to at all. Her reaction to this Reed had been unlike anything else I’d seen from her.
Clearly, she knew him, as did Lala. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why he was the one to get that kind of reaction from them.
I knew men like him. Lala knew men like him.
“Who is that, and why is he here?” I asked, the words bubbling up on their own accord.
“His name is Reed, and he’s just as welcome as anyone else in this town.” Disappointment oozed from Lala when I faced her at her sharp words. “I have never been so ashamed of you as I have been today.”
“Do not look at me like that. Do not look at me as if I am the one going against everything I have ever said.” My voice came out softer and sharper as I continued. “You are the one who told me to stay away from men like him.”
Lala’s eyes widened at my tone.
I felt myself cringe.
Felt that kneejerk instinct to apologize, but I couldn’t at that moment. Everything she’d ever engrained in me . . . nearly every nightmare from my life . . . she’d brushed away with one short interaction.
I pointed at her. “You told me, you told me . . . you said, ‘You see that man? A man like that is nothing but trouble. You stay away from men who look like that.’ And I have. I’ve run from men like him because I was forced to watch as they ruined Momma’s life.”
As they ruined my life.
But the truth of my life was something I’d sworn to never burden my grandma with.
I’d seen it every time my mother and I had s
hown up, asking for money—the pain and worry in Lala’s eyes when she looked at me.
Knowing the truth would wreck her, I was sure of it.
“Oh, Emma.” Lala sighed and her expression softened. “I didn’t mean the appearance. I meant the man. His aura. His soul. The men your momma hung around with and married . . . they were pure evil.” She waved her hand through the air. “So Reed has some tattoos—”
“Some? Lala, he’s covered.”
Literally.
There were tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt. Swirling down his arms like sleeves. Littering his hands. Decorating his calves.
I could only imagine if he took his shirt off, there would be plenty more.
“Covered in ink or not, you will be polite when he returns.”
At that exact moment, the man in question walked in. Those tattooed arms weighed down with loaves of garlic bread, and Nora clinging to him like a monkey, talking excitedly.
He took one look at me and then directed his attention to Lala.
Trouble.
Dangerous.
Handsome—no. Not.
Lala smiled at him adoringly when he hefted the bags on the only empty space left on the counters. “Saw Peter this morning.”
“Yeah?” Reed said with a bright smile. “Blush any harder over Peter Rowe, and I might start thinking I’m not your favorite, Lala.”
At that, Lala did blush, and Nora giggled wildly. “Oh, you hush,” she said, waving him off. “You know I love you both. Now, fix you a plate.”
He held up a hand and stepped back. “I’m good.”
Lala’s thinning eyebrows lifted. “I said—”
“I’m not on today.”
“That makes no difference to me. Make a plate, or I’ll have to drive one over to you. You wouldn’t want to make an old woman leave her kitchen, now would you?”
His lips formed a thin line as if he was trying to figure out how to stay firm and not disrespect her. “No.”
“Sorry. What was that?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ll help you make a plate, my Reed,” Nora said as he helped her to the floor.
He started to speak, then paused as his stare darted to me. Stepping forward so he could lean over the island to speak directly to my grandma, he dropped his voice low. “I’d rather this food go to whoever’s working—”
“You picked up groceries for me. That’s work enough.”
“Lala . . .”
Lala planted her hands firmly on the island. “Get a plate and get you some food before I call your momma, boy.”
Nora gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.
Reed’s lips formed another tight line, this time so different than the last.
His jaw tensed and worked like he was putting too much pressure on it. The muscles in his arms rippled and twitched like he was restraining himself from reacting in any way.
My initial assessment of him was coming to life in front of me . . . only now I was enraptured. The sudden, frustrated set of his features was alarming and fascinating and edged on this side of terrifying.
I should have been horrified.
He was every man I’d hated and cursed. Every man who’d had a hand in ruining my life. But I couldn’t look away.
I was captivated and intrigued and too curious for my own good.
Some small part of me was urging me to move. To put myself between him and my grandma or my sister. To protect them from a man like Reed when he was obviously struggling to remain calm.
A reflex from years of trying to protect my mom.
But I didn’t do any of those things. I wasn’t sure I could move at all. I just stood there, waiting for something.
For him to look at me. To speak. To give me a reason to stare at that expression for days on end. For a chance to touch him.
Anything.
All while sucking down the sweetest tea I’d ever tasted.
Reed’s hardened steel-gray eyes had been fixated on a spot on the island. When they snapped up, they burned with something that awakened a place inside me.
“Lala, that was low,” Reed said in a soft, rumbling tone.
“Would do you some good,” she said dismissively.
Reed rubbed at his jaw and laughed, dark and husky and everything a laugh had no right sounding like. “I’m not ready. You need to drop it.”
It wasn’t until I was halfway through the tea that I realized what I was doing . . .
Running back to Lala . . . needing help . . . fantasizing about the quintessential bad boy.
Tall, dark, handsome, covered in tattoos and screaming how he would be the beginning of a ruined life.
Not fantasizing. Not.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
I set the tea on the counter harder than intended, then was out of the kitchen and up in my room in seconds. Throwing the few items I’d taken out of my bags back in and zipping them up before my thoughts had unscrambled enough for me to be able to make sense of what I was doing.
Not more than a minute later, I heard the telltale sound of Lala’s steps in the hall, getting closer and closer.
Worry wove through her tone when she called out, “Emma, honey, are you okay?”
I turned in time to see her come through the door.
Disappointment and hurt etched lines on her face before she could wash them away with a look of indifference. “I see.”
“I have to leave.” The statement was nothing more than a whisper, but it rocked me.
The truth of it.
The lie.
The way every part of me screamed no.
Because I knew . . . I knew I needed to be there.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have anywhere to go. I’d been faced with that challenge before, and I’d made a life for myself. I’d figured it all out on my own. I knew I could do it again and again and again.
But there was an ache that had formed deep within me when Lala opened the door the night before, as if my soul were saying finally. As if the journey I’d been on all these years had been leading me here all along.
But turning into Momma . . .
That I couldn’t do.
And being here, I was afraid that was exactly what would happen.
“I can’t become her,” I said tightly. “If I stay here, I will. I know it.” I gestured to myself then her as I continued speaking. “Look at me. I’m already following in her footsteps. I wanted to have a life as far from hers as possible, and everything I’m doing leads me down the same path. I can’t be her. I can’t stay here.”
Lala rubbed at her head and then hurried to smooth her pale hands over her apron. “If that’s how you feel.”
My entire being begged me to say no, that wasn’t how I felt.
That I was terrified.
That I needed someone. Not just someone . . . her.
My head shook sadly. “Nothing scares me more in this world than becoming my mother.”
After a few seconds, she nodded, a sigh pushing past her lips. “I could give you a ride to wherever you need to go. But if you don’t want that, don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
I roughly fell to the bed and buried my head in my hands.
I wanted to apologize for putting her through this . . .
For showing up. For disappointing her. For hurting her now. But I was afraid if I spoke, I would tell her every reason why becoming like my mom was so terrifying. Reasons that Lala couldn’t know.
There was a sigh from my doorway. “Running . . . your momma did that.”
And then I was alone with my conflicting instincts and needs and packed bags.
The muted sounds from the men and women coming and going downstairs created their own sort of lullaby until I fell asleep.
* * *
When I woke, it was dark outside my window, but the muted voices were still weaving up the stairs and to my room.
I looked at my bags and then hurried down the stairs to where La
la and Nora sat at the kitchen table with a few men in uniform.
Lala’s smile slipped from her face when she saw me standing there. After excusing herself, she stood and came to me, expression guarded and questioning.
“I’m sorry I left you to make dinner and do the dishes.”
All that was left in the kitchen were massive pans filled with food above warmers.
A small laugh left her. “I do this by myself every week.”
I glanced at the people attempting to ignore us at the table, then back to her. “I just—I’m sorry, Lala.” My mouth opened and shut half a dozen times before my shoulders fell with an exhale.
“I know,” she said and then turned, grabbing Tupperware to fill with food.
When it was nearly overflowing, she pushed the lid on and held it out to me.
My brows pinched in confusion, but I didn’t have time to ask before she was already explaining.
“Reed slipped out when I went after you. You’re gonna take this to him.”
I was so shocked, I just stood there staring at her. Not reaching for the container. Not speaking.
“Go on. Night isn’t gonna get any younger.”
“Lala, he is every man I watched my mother with my entire life. Why would you even ask me to interact with him?”
“Because he is not those men.” She gave me a look like she didn’t understand how I couldn’t see it. “That boy has saved my life and countless others’. He cares for Nora as if she’s his family. He’s fixed my lightbulbs without being asked. He’s planted flowers when I couldn’t get in the garden. And he brings bread every week because I always forget to buy it. If you give him half a chance, you’ll see exactly what kind of man he is.”
A stunned laugh burst from me. “I don’t want to give him half a chance.”
“I didn’t mean like that,” she said gently yet firmly. “I’m not telling you to go looking for anything with him. I am asking you to open your mind so you can see the difference in the men you grew up around and good, honest men.”
I curled my fingers around the Tupperware when she shoved it at me and sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
She slapped a sticky note on top with an address as though she’d already been expecting this.
Lie to Me Page 2
