by Leah Holt
BEAUTIFUL LIE
Leah Holt
Copyright © 2018 Leah Holt
All rights reserved. BEAUTIFUL LIE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Beautiful Lie
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Also from Leah Holt:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
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Also from Leah Holt:
CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance
HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance
THIRD DATE: A Romantic Comedy
MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance
BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance
BODY LOCK: A Bad Boy MMA Romance
BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance
DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance
SWEET VIRGIN
BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance
PUSHED: A Dark Romance
KEEP ME: A Dark Romance
REDD: A Dark Romance
Prologue
August 15, 2010
My eyes opened wide, catching blurred images of faces dangling over my head. Voices swam through my ears, drawing me out of my sleepy haze. I wasn't sure how many, but whoever was around me was speaking so softly I couldn't hear what they were saying.
Where am I? Who is that?
Blinking rapidly, I lifted my fists to my eyes and rubbed them into focus, pulling the doubled image back into one.
A face lowered, hanging just above my nose, as a set of deep blue eyes began to emerge, turning from fuzzy orbs into crystal clear pools. His face was serious and concerned as he slipped his hands under my shoulders and sat me upright. “Honey, are you alright?” the older man asked, worry highlighting the sound of his voice.
“I. . . I don't know. I think so.” Forcing my vision to steady, I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. I didn't have a clue, nothing really looked familiar.
There were tall trees swaying above me, their long arms waving and bouncing against the bright skyline. A cool breeze bristled my skin, forcing a shiver to run from head to toe. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I shook my head, trying to understand what was happening.
“Why. . . Who. . .” I spoke the words quietly, barely a whisper against my tongue. I was so confused, trapped in a world that was spinning on its axis. My head began to throb as the tree tops and clouds all swirled together making me feel dizzy. Scrunching my brows, I tried to drudge up one single memory that led me to this place.
But there were no words or thoughts, nothing that jumped out to give me answers. The urge to stand roared in my head, and that was the only thing I wanted to do. I had to get up. I needed to stand.
Shifting, I pushed my hands into the cold ground, using all the effort I had to rise to my feet. Damp grass squished between my fingers, and water logged dirt soiled my palms. Clutching the mud, I dug my nails in, begging for the earth to show me why I was there.
I'm outside? Why am I outside?
How did I get here?
Bending my legs, I grunted, attempting to climb to my feet. But a nauseous rumble turned my stomach, forcing me to keel over and grab my belly.
“I think I'm going to throw up.” Gagging, I fell back, muscles shaking as if I had forgotten how to use them. I felt weak and shaky, like I had suffered a battle with an illness that devoured me from the inside out while I slept.
What happened? Why am I here?
A million questions filled my brain, but I was left empty and answer-less. There were no memories flooding in, no pictures of past movements that led me to where I was. Nothing.
“Easy now, easy, don't move to fast.” The man gripped my shoulders, holding me steady. Drifting his gaze around my body, he scanned up and down. “Are you hurt? Do you feel any pain anywhere?”
Rocking my wrists, I moved my arms and hands in slow circles. Wriggling my feet, I bent my knees up and down. “I don't think so. I just feel like I'm going to be sick.”
“That's alright, if you need to puke, puke. As long as you're not hurt, that's all I care about right now. Are you sure you're not injured?” Shaking my head yes, he lifted the back of his hand to my face and touched my cheek, slowly moving up to my forehead. “You don't feel like you have a fever. Can you tell me what happened? How did you get here?”
Racking my brain, I tried to round up my memories. I was drawing a blank. Closing my eyes, I pinched my nose, dipping my head into my chest. “Uh, I'm not sure. I can't remember what happened. Where am I exactly?”
“You're in the woods behind my house.” The man watched me cautiously, moving his hand to my shoulder. “I'm Nick, can you tell me your name?”
“My name. . . Uh, my name's. . .”
What's my name?
I can't remember my name. . . Why can't I remember my name?!
Lifting my eyes to his, I watched his expression harden as concern and worry drenched his face. Thick lines creased his forehead, and bushy brows crawled up towards his hairline like caterpillars. I could tell by the way he stared at me that my lack of memory wasn't a good thing.
That worried me. What could have happened to cause everything in my brain to disappear?
I should know the answer to his question without having to think about it at all. But all I could hear in my head was wind and dust blowing tumble weeds through an empty cavern.
Clearing his face of any distress, he spoke soft and slow. “Do you know your name, Sweetheart?”
Shaking my head no, tears started to fill my eyes. “I. . . I can't remember.”
Nick's hand flattened on my back as he rubbed it tenderly, his touch caring and fatherly. “That's alright, we'll figure this out. Don't cry little one, I'll help you. Do you remember where you live or how old you are? What about your family, can you remember them?”
Plucking at my lip, I peered blankly at the ground. I couldn't find the words, I couldn't see any faces or hear any voices from a mother or a father, siblings, friends—Nothing.
This is crazy! I can't remember anything about who I am!
“No, I don't remember anything at all.” Hanging my head, I wiped my face, as my chest began to ache with every breath, and tears drenched my cheeks.
Yesterday didn't exist, who I was and where I came from was gone. It was as if I had just been reborn, taking in my first breath, my first view of the world, my first smell of the air. Because before that moment, there was nothing but
vast darkness.
“What happened to me?” Picking at my fingers, I tugged at the nail beds, keeping my eyes in my lap. I felt exhausted and drained, every inch of my body screamed with pain.
But it wasn't a pain from an injury or falling down. I didn't have any open wounds or large scrapes. There were no bruises or bumps that indicated I had been in some sort of fight.
Everything I felt, it was emotional torment. It was all the hurt of not knowing.
My head was pounding with the worst headache I had ever experienced, my stomach cramped and knotted with tight spasms I couldn't control. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to jump up and run until everything came back, crashing into my head like a grenade went off.
But I couldn't move, I was frozen in place, unable to connect my thoughts to my muscles and make them work.
It was all too much for my young brain to process. My mind was a tornado of questions, unable to stay trained on one single thought.
Where is my family? Do I even have a family?
Who am I? Where did I come from?
How in the world did I get here?
My breathing became erratic and labored as the air seemed to thicken, attempting to drown me where I sat. Heaping mouthfuls of oxygen tore up my insides, burning my lungs like hot coals.
“I can't breathe, I can't breathe—” Holding my chest, I dropped forward, trying to slow everything down. But I couldn't. My mouth was open wide, but my throat had closed. My lungs clenched tight, jerking with painful leaps to taste the air.
Cocking my head up, my eyes met the man's, and they begged him for help. I didn't blink, openly gawking with nothing but hurt and confusion on my face. I didn't know what to do or how to stop my body from reacting the way it was.
Pulling me into his chest, Nick hugged me. “It's alright, calm down. I don't know what happened, but everything will be fine. I promise, everything will be alright.” His arms wrapped around me like a blanket, holding me tight.
I could smell his cologne and there was something about it that made my breathing slow down and my muscles stop shaking. It was soothing, musky with a hint of mint, the scent calmed my nerves, giving me a sliver of peace in the chaos that had gobbled me up.
Tears continued to fall effortlessly as I let my body snuggle into his, allowing him to hold me like a father would hold his daughter.
“Dad, is she alright?” A young boy's voice crept in from behind us, his tone wary and unsure.
“Yeah, she's okay. Come on over here.” With a firm arm around my shoulder, Nick held out his hand to the foreign voice, and waved him in. “This is my son Birch, he's the one who found you.”
“Hey,” he said, stealing a quick glance at my face then looking to the ground. “Are you sure she's alright?”
“She will be, Birch, she's going to be just fine. Come on, let's get you in the house and get you some water.” Helping me to my feet, Nick guided me through the trees while his son trailed a little behind us.
I could feel Birch watching me as I stumbled over fallen branches and staggered across the uneven ground. His eyes were like weights, pulling on every piece of my body they touched.
When they hit my shoulders my spine pressed down. When they sunk into my neck, the hair stood up and prickled my skin.
But when I looked at him, his eyes flicked away. I didn't understand why he wouldn't look me in the eyes. There was a hint of fear in his gaze, a sheen of fright that coated his pupils. It didn't make sense. Why would he be afraid of me?
Caught in a daze, his father pulled me back, his voice cutting through the sounds of breaking branches. “Our house is right through here, only a little bit further. How you doing? You alright?”
“Yeah, I'm okay.” I could see the shape of a house forming as the forest thinned, and we stepped out into the clearing of a backyard.
A huge house created the backdrop, with brick siding and a stone patio. A kidney- shaped, in-ground pool sparkled like crystal to my left, while full flower beds colored the lower half of the house in pops of purple and red.
Arching my neck, giant windows peered back at me, causing my reflection to morph and twist as the sunset teased my doppelganger. It was a bizarre feeling to see my face, to know that the person staring back was actually me, and have no memory of what I looked like.
Stopping short, I took in my reflection, learning my features all over again. My hair was made of big brown curls, tousled and knotted, with broken flakes of leaves and debris tangled in the locks. My eyes were dark brown, I assumed, but it was hard to tell against the glass.
All my limbs looked thin and brittle under the skin, like I hadn't eaten in ages and my body had started to find its food from within. I had on a dirty blue t-shirt with a unicorn in the center, spouting the phrase, 'You're awesome,' and nothing else but a pair of shorts, and filthy white socks.
I was shocked and captivated all in the same breath. Reaching for my cheeks, I stroked the cold skin, feeling myself to make sure this was true, that what I was seeing was actually real.
It was.
This wasn't a dream, I wasn't waking up, coddling a thick comforter and tear-soaked pillow. I was a ghost to myself, a mirage of a young girl that once had a life, a past, an entire world that didn't exist anymore.
Strong fingers squeezed the outside of my arms, and Nick leaned over to whisper in my ear. “It's all right, we'll get you cleaned up, don't worry about what you see.” Ushering me along, he started forward again.
Hesitantly, I allowed his hands to manipulate me through the yard and to the door. “This is your house?” I asked, my voice still not registering inside my head as my own.
“Yeah, it's Birch, myself, and his mother, my wife Valentina.” Nodding his head at his son, he eyed the door.
Birch jogged ahead a few steps, folding down the handle to let us through. Leading me to a long wood table, Birch pulled out a chair and Nick sat me down.
Combing his thick fingers through my hair, he smiled. “I don't want you to worry, no matter what, I'll take care of you. I'm going to make a few calls and see if we can figure this out. Relax here, Birch will get you some water and keep you company until I get back. Sound good?”
“Okay.” Forcing a smile, I slouched in the seat, resting my hands in my lap. “Thank you.”
Running flat palms down my head and over my shoulders, his smile widened. “Don't thank me, you don't need to. I'll be back in a bit.” Nudging my chin with his fist, he turned and walked out of the room, disappearing around the corner.
For the first time since I opened my eyes, I felt some hope. Nick was going to find the answers, he was going to find out who I was and where I belonged. That thought dried my tears, it gave me something to cling to instead of feeling like everything was spiraling out of control.
Taking in a deep breath, I tugged my shirt down further so it covered my knees, and looked around the room. Their house was gorgeous. Everything sparkled and twinkled like it had been waxed and shined.
Silver and gold trinkets rested on a shelf above the sink. The fridge was made of stainless steel, completely barren of any pictures or magnets. A giant wicker bowl of fruit was set in the center of the table, cradled by two tall candles in crystal holders.
Staring at my hands, dirt had embedded itself under my nails, covering my skin and arms. Wiping my palms on my shirt, I tried to clean them off. I was too dirty to be sitting in that house.
It felt like I didn't belong there, as if I was a peasant given clearance to sit in a castle. My filth was a disease, my dirt a calling card to the status I held in that room.
Frantically I rubbed and rubbed the skin until it started to turn red and raw. I wanted it gone, I wanted any reminder of where I had crawled out of erased.
Come on, get off.
Brushing my fingers through my hair, I pulled and plucked at the bits of leaves and tiny sticks. The small debris floated into my lap, dressing my shirt like soiled snowflakes.
“Don't worry
about that, just sit and relax like my dad said.” The faucet gushed on, and the sound of water spilled into a cup. Soft feet tapped to my side, and Birch rested the glass of water down in front of me. “Here, try not to drink it too fast.”
Birch slipped into the chair across from me, and I glanced up with a light smile. “Thanks.” Curling my fingers around the cup, I lifted it to my lips and took small sips.
Birch sat staring at me. He had that same look I had seen outside. Fear, discomfort, uncertainty, it was all there, lashing my skin like whips from a belt. He didn't know what to make of the girl who ended up in his woods.
He doesn't know what to think. . . How the hell does he think I feel?
With jet black hair and a jaw that was still young but forming, I guessed he was about fourteen. He was too young to have knowledge earned by experience, but he looked like he had lived a million years of suffering.
It was hard to make sense of what I was seeing, of the eyes looking at me, reading me, wondering about me.
Nervously, his fingers tapped against the table, and his leg jerked up and down against the floor. “So, you really can't remember anything?”
Swallowing the cold water, it quenched my dry throat and made me feel a little bit more normal, and not as shaky. “No, nothing at all.”
“Are you sure? You really can't remember anything before this?”
“No, I can't.”
Why is he asking me it like that?
Does he not believe me?
Why would I make that up?
Crooking his jaw, his eyes bounced around my face. “And you're sure of that? Nothing? Not one thing?” His questions came out more like an accusation, like he thought I was holding back, and my claims weren't real.
That wasn't true. I was trying like hell to force it out, but there was nothing there for me to grab.
“Yes, I'm sure. Do you think I'm lying?” Angling my head, I traced the rim of the glass with the tip of my finger. I was angry that he was asking me that way, that his tone insinuated he didn't trust what I was saying, and I was full of shit.
“No, I don't think you're lying, it's just. . .” Pausing, he pulled his eyes away, staring at anything that wasn't my face. “It's just strange, that's all.”
