Truth We Bear

by Danielle Rose

  “Hello, handsome,” she said as she approached.

  “Miss Tate,” I said, suppressing a chuckle. She’d hated how formal I was when we’d first met, but to me, this had been just another job. Formalities were in place for a reason. Little did I know she’d worm her way into my heart. Formalities be damned.

  She rolled her eyes. “I think we’re on a first-name basis, Blakely. After all, I have seen you naked.” She winked.

  I reached for her and pulled her into a kiss. Her mouth was warm, inviting, and it didn’t take long for the greeting to escalate. I was growing hard, every bit as hungry for her as she was for me. Reluctantly, I pulled away.

  “Lunch?” she asked, breathless.

  Hand in hand, we walked down the street, stealing glances as if we were truant school kids in love. We reached her favorite salad bar, Soup ’n Stuff, and in typical New York City fashion, the line to order food to go was out the door. We quickly grabbed the last empty table.

  “Hollywood parking!” she said as we sat.

  I grinned. “Hollywood parking” was the term Jezebel used whenever we got something only seen in movies—front-row parking on a busy street, an empty table in a packed Manhattan restaurant during the lunch hour, two full glasses of wine at an art opening…

  “Were you able to finish your chapter?” I asked as I browsed the menu. We frequented this restaurant, so I’d memorized it already. Even so, I was hoping the owner would branch out. Soup, salad, and sandwiches did little to sate my appetite.

  “Sure was. My inspiration break was more than helpful,” she teased.

  Before I could respond, the waitress was at our table, asking for our orders. She was a bubbly blonde just pushing legal drinking age. As she took our orders, her long hair, tied back in a ponytail, swayed as she looked from me to Jezebel and then back again. When Jezebel glanced down to fold her menu, the girl winked and pursed her lips, even offering me a slight head nod to the bathroom doors. I nearly strained myself in my attempt to not roll my eyes at her.

  “Let me take that for you, babe,” I said, grabbing our menus and handing them to the girl. I kept my focus on Jezebel, in a clear this-is-the-only-woman-I-want-to-fuck alpha stance. I was sure the waitress would get the message. Jezebel, completely unaware of the girl’s advances, arched a brow at my show of dominance. It didn’t take long for her to return my sexual gaze.

  After she left, I threatened, “If you keep looking at me with your come-fuck-me eyes, I will take you into the bathroom, push you up against the wall, and fuck you until every person in this restaurant knows what a little minx you are.”

  She gasped, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. I lived for these moments. Her skin was so deliciously pale she often burned a bright pink while I fucked her, her arousal just as obvious as mine. She dragged her teeth against her lower lip. When she released it, it was plump, suckable. I licked my lips, sure that I now offered the come-fuck-me eyes.

  “I love how naughty you can be,” she whispered.

  I’d never been like this. In my past relationships, I had been more reserved, but Jezebel had an insatiable sexual appetite, and I loved it. She made me want to do things to her that I’d never done before. I knew she wasn’t ready for that, though, so I never pressured her to explore new things with me.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen.

  “Blakely.”

  “Reynolds. I found your girl.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Already? That quickly? A million questions raced through my mind, but my eyes trailed the short distance to where Jezebel sat beside me. She was playing with the cuticle of her nail, pretending to not eavesdrop. Even with all my questions, I fell mute.

  “Bad time?” he asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “No,” I said quickly. I needed to know what he knew, and I needed to know it now.

  He exhaled slowly and spoke softly, as if he feared someone might overhear him on the phone. My eyes on Jezebel, I listened as he rattled off an old address linked to her. She also had a five-year-old citation for keeping farm animals in the city. Apparently she was trying to build a small homestead in her apartment. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at that. The first clue I’d gotten that might lead to her was almost a mirror image of the life she’d stolen from me. The irony wasn’t lost on me, and I was damn sure she left that citation on her record for a reason. She wanted me to find her.

  Before Reynolds hung up, he told me not to fuck up things with Jezebel while I searched for this other girl. I told him I wouldn’t, but mere seconds after we hung up, Jezebel asked me about the call.

  “Nothing. Just helping a friend track down someone for a job.”

  Again, almost as if by instinct, I’d lied.

  Chapter Seven

  Now

  As I hailed a taxi, I hated myself. In the time it had taken Jezebel and me to finish eating, I’d replayed our conversation in my mind at least a dozen times. Even after I walked her to a waiting taxi and kissed her goodbye, the only words to escape my lips were reassurance that her agent, Tara, was calling a last-minute meeting with her because she likely had good news, not bad.

  I should have told her the truth about the phone call, but I couldn’t bear the questions—at least, not until I knew Abigail’s true intentions. I couldn’t risk Jezebel’s safety… Not again. With only one thought in my mind, I sent Jezebel on her way and found another taxi for myself.

  “Where ya headed?” the driver asked as I slammed the car door.

  I rattled off a foreign-to-me address and settled back into the seat. The skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan loomed above us as the driver sped to our destination. My mind was spinning. I had so many questions.

  What was Abigail doing in Manhattan? Manhattan and Living Light couldn’t be more different. Could it be a coincidence that we both ended up here? What were her intentions with her blog? Had she been involved in the discovery of my parents’ bodies?

  But most importantly, what would I have to do to make her, my past, and this brewing threat of exposure disappear? How far would she go to uncover my secrets?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Jezebel.

  Major news, B! I’m making dinner tonight, so don’t be late.

  I glanced at my wristwatch, a habit Jezebel once told me she found utterly sexy. Jezebel’s meeting was over already? I’d only sent her off in the taxi twenty or so minutes ago. From the sound of it, she’d received good news. Tension I didn’t realize I was holding released. At least her career was safe. Mine, on the other hand, was still a work in progress.

  This sounds promising.

  Yes! Can’t talk. Still in meeting.

  I chuckled. In typical Jezebel fashion, she was texting me dinner plans while in her business meeting with Tara. I could imagine Tara rolling her eyes and telling Jezebel to pay attention. Even though they were best friends, they were really nothing alike. Tara had the business mind, while Jezebel was driven by her emotions. I couldn’t complain, though. Jezebel’s emotional state led me to admit my true feelings for her. Not to mention, the sex had been spectacular.

  See you later.

  Before putting my phone back into my pocket, I stared at my reflection in the screen. My eyes were dark, as if I hadn’t slept in a few days, and my hair was a bit messier than usual. I wasn’t one to primp for hours in front of a mirror, but I usually took some care with my appearance. I smoothed the creases of my jacket and adjusted the buttons on my shirt.

  We passed brownstone after brownstone. I closed my eyes in a sad attempt to shut out the world around me. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I saw her. Would she even recognize me? Would I recognize her? I thought about her website head shot. How long ago had she taken that photo? My mind was spinning with questions I was dying to ask her. As much as I’d have liked her to tell me she had no intention of spilling my secrets, I wasn’t naïve. She was here for a reason, with a plan, and I was sim
ply a pawn in her game.

  “Sir?”

  I opened my eyes.

  “I said we’re here.”

  I cleared my throat, mumbled an apology, and tossed a few twenties at him.

  The sun was hot on my skin as I took the stairs to the brownstone’s front door. A car alarm sounded, and I glanced in its direction, halting my ascent. The street was lined with cars. I never understood why New Yorkers kept their cars while living in the city. It just wasn’t worth the expense. Insurance in this city was atrocious, and traffic was horrendous. I was almost certain you could get anywhere in this city faster by foot and public transportation.

  I glanced in the other direction and watched a woman pushing a stroller as she jogged toward me. She offered a smile as she passed by, and I nodded in response. I wiped the sweat that had begun to pool on my forehead and admired the view. This street, although in another borough, looked almost identical to our street. Cars lined the curb, brownstones lined the sidewalk, and short, black, wrought-iron gates fenced in each person’s property. In true New York style, there wasn’t much to enclose. I shook my head, offering this similarity up to another coincidence.

  When I reached the brownstone’s door, I knocked. While I waited, I swallowed the lump that’d formed in my throat and tried to slow my breathing. My heart was beating so hard I could feel the pounding in my temples. I was one degree away from the worst migraine of my life. I wasn’t sure what I was most nervous about—seeing Abigail again or trying to stop her from ruining my life. I’d known Abigail only a short time, but looking back, I could only assume she was psychotic. How was I going to convince a crazy person that she was crazy?

  I sucked in a sharp breath as I watched a woman approach. The frosted glass of the front door made it impossible to see her clearly, but I could see she was petite. She reached for the door handle before I’d even decided what to say.

  “Yes? Hello,” the woman said.

  She wasn’t Abigail. I glanced past her, scanning the long hallway behind her. There was a staircase to the left and a row of picture frames cluttering the wall to the right.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  I glanced back at her. “I was looking for a friend. I was given this address for her. Maybe you know her? Abigail…” I cleared my throat, realizing I still didn’t know her last name. “Her name is Abigail.”

  The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know her. My husband and I just moved in, though. We didn’t meet the previous tenants prior to signing our lease.”

  She fidgeted with the doorframe, strumming her fingertips against the wood. Offering a weak smile, she shrugged.

  “Did the previous tenant leave anything behind?” I asked, officially entering stalker status.

  She exhaled slowly, her eyes straying from mine. “Look, I… I can’t help you, okay?” She began to close the door, but I reached forward, blocking her escape. Her eyes widened in surprise. She leaned back, her light-brown fringe falling into her eyes. She flicked her head to the side in a mindless habit, I was sure.

  “I really need to find her. Please, anything you know could be invaluable.”

  She frowned but said nothing. I offered a silent prayer that she was remembering something extremely useful, like a forwarding address conveniently left on the bottom stair of the apartment. I stared into her green eyes, trying to make my own look as kind as possible. The last thing I needed was a report filed with the police about some crazy man digging for information about a girl named Abigail.

  “Anything at all,” I repeated, smiling.

  She shook her head. “Look, all I know is that the previous tenant was weird. When we moved in, the landlord was still clearing out the garbage she’d left behind. We couldn’t move in on time because he had to repaint the walls. Apparently, she’d left these…I don’t know, cryptic messages all over them. I’m glad I never met her, and I think you should go.”

  “Do you know what the messages said?” I asked.

  She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. A light of the living or something like that. It was creepy, but that’s all I know. Please, leave.”

  She pushed against the door, and I stepped back, listening as she locked the door. I heard the familiar beep of an alarm being set.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to the closed door. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I turned and descended the stairs. When I reached the bottom step, I ran a hand through my hair and stared at the sky. The heat was suffocating at this time of day, but I welcomed the walk home. With each step I took, a sense of dread washed over me. This address was my only lead. If I couldn’t find her myself, my only choice was to wait until Abigail contacted me. That woman was right. Abigail was crazy. But maybe I was just as crazy, because I was willing to wait for her to find me.

  Chapter Eight

  Then

  The walk back to our house was quiet. No one spoke, but the creatures of the night helped to drown out the enveloping silence. It was late. The sun had set. The only thing lighting our way was the moon and stars, but I could walk this path blindfolded and still reach home.

  As I approached our house, I looked into our neighbor’s windows. The small kitchen was lit by candlelight. Bobby, my friend, was helping his mom clean up. He glanced up as we passed and waved when he saw me. I smiled and waved back. I’d missed the kickball game that day. We could only play outside until sundown, so it was too late to ask him to play now. Kicking the dirt at my feet, I hoped he’d play again tomorrow.

  The door to our house slammed shut behind me, and I jumped.

  “Get ready for bed, James,” Mother said. I think she was upset about the pastor’s news. She didn’t talk much at dinner, and she wouldn’t look at me after the pastor proposed my marriage to Abi.

  Quickly, I took the stairs two at a time and ran into my room, not wanting to talk to my parents about dinner. I rushed my bedtime routine, eager to sleep and wake up tomorrow. Mother said I could spend the whole day outside. Soon, summer would turn to autumn, and with it, the cold would come. I didn’t have many more days to play outside in the fields with my friends.

  I lay in bed, tucking my blanket beneath my sides as Mother used to, and I thought about Abi. She was nice. I liked her red hair. I never knew hair could be such a light-red color. It almost looked orange. It reminded me of the sunsets. They looked orange sometimes too. Since we were getting married, maybe she’d like to play in the fields tomorrow. I could wake early and go to her house first.

  Shouting from the living room jolted me from bed. My blanket tangled with my legs, and I fell to the floor in a thump. I had fallen asleep thinking about the games I’d play with Abi tomorrow. I stood and tossed the wool blanket onto the bed. Sweat coated my forehead. I liked to be warm when I slept, so I always used my winter blanket, even when it was hot outside, but I hated sweating. I wiped my forehead and dried my palms on my pants.

  I’d almost forgotten what had woken me, until I heard more yelling coming from downstairs. I stepped toward my door, the floor creaking under my weight, and I peeked around the corner. The hallway was long, dark, and empty. I tiptoed closer, listening to Mother and Father. I hated walking around without socks on. Sometimes, our wood floors gave me splinters in my toes. As I sneaked toward my parents, I walked carefully. Jagged pieces of wood in our floors were like God. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there. And sometimes, they’d make their presence known. God did that by speaking through the pastor, telling me what he wanted me to do, and the wood spoke through splinters nestled so deeply that Father had to cut my skin just to get them out.

  “This is absolutely unacceptable.”

  I crouched down on the top step, listening.

  “Darling, please calm down,” Father said. His voice was soothing, and it made me sleepy. I could fall asleep anywhere while listening to his stories of the other world. I loved when he told me about the day he met Mother. He’d said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. H
e’d known from the moment he saw her that he wanted to be hers. He’d told me he hoped I’d someday find the love of my life, too. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait as long as he did, because God had brought me Abi already.

  “I certainly will not calm down! We’re talking about an arranged marriage for our son—our preteen son!”

  I wanted to see more, so I tiptoed down another step, leaning forward until I could sneak a peek without being seen.

  “I’ll admit, it is a bit unorthodox, but this could be a good way to bring the community together under new leadership.” Father stepped closer to Mother, pulling her into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She tried pushing away, but he wouldn’t release her. “Wouldn’t it be nice to step back and focus on ourselves? We’ve always talked about having another baby.”

  I gasped at that. Another baby? I wanted a brother so badly. I’d asked for one for Christmas one year, but God never brought me one. This year, God brought me Abi, and now He might bring me a baby brother? I could barely contain my excitement. I wanted to clap and jump up and down and shout for joy, but I didn’t, because Mother said it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop.

  “If you could just hear yourself…” She shook her head.

  “I do, and yes, marrying off our son to grow our family isn’t normally something I’d consider, but the pastor made some good points. We’re talking about a marriage here, not sex. No one is expecting Abigail to bear a child.”

  Mother scoffed, finally breaking free of Father’s embrace. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She waved away his concern. “He’s a child. He needs to do childlike things, like go to school, play outside, grow up.”

  “He will also be the leader of this community one day, dear. That entails certain…responsibilities. If the pastor is willing to unite Abigail and James for the better of the community, I don’t see why we shouldn’t support it.”