Hidden Truths

by Megan Erickson

  Then I laughed too, and I swore maybe I was going to burn all these bourbon calories on laughing.

  He sat back up and swiped at his eyes. “Your turn. Thanks for making me laugh so hard at that.”

  I preened. We were such fucked up humans. The game continued with some pretty easy questions like “never have I ever mooned anyone” until finally we both sat holding up only our index fingers.

  It was Lance’s turn, and the bourbon buzz was different now. I wasn’t so jolly and quick to laugh anymore. If anything, I was feeling a little melancholy, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving us two broken people in a motel room just waiting to continue our broken lives.

  Lance licked his lips, and let his tongue rest for a minute in the corner of his mouth. “This’ll be the last,” he said.

  “How can you be so sure?” I asked.

  He leaned in. “Never have I ever been in love.”

  I froze, sitting there with my index finger in the air, and bourbon coursing through my system. What was he doing asking that question? What was its purpose? I had been in love with Reb, that type of first-time puppy love, the older brother’s best friend adoration that was great until it turned sour. It’d been the love of a young girl, not a woman.

  I knew that, because now I knew what adult love was like. I lowered my finger, and reached for the bourbon, but he snatched it away first.

  I beckoned for it with my fingers. “I lost.”

  “You see my finger up?” He asked.

  And I froze. A-fucking-gain. Both his hands were gripping the bottle. The words I didn’t want to say were screaming up my throat. I tried to swallow them back down, keep them from surging out, but they didn’t give a fuck. “Who was she?”

  His eyes went half-mast, all soft and sad. I shook my head immediately, some part of me coming to my senses. “Nope, never mind. You don’t have to tell me.” I stood up, needing to get away from those eyes and that voice. I scrambled over the bed as I saw him get up out of the corner of my eyes. “Tara,” he said. “I want to tell you.”

  “No, I’m good! Really. I’m great. Just gonna breathe some fresh night air, then get some sleep.”

  I pulled on the sliding glass door, but the damn thing was locked and before I could unlock it, he was there, molten heat at my back, his hands on the glass on either side of my body. “Tara.” His voice blew through my hair at my ear and slid down my spine.

  I shivered. “Don’t.”

  “You want to know who she is?”

  “Stop.”

  “You think it was Bethany? Someone else?”

  “Shut up, Lance.”

  “You tell me, Tara.” One hand left the glass and curled around my midsection. I sucked in a breath at the hot band of heat at my belly. “You tell me how I fell in love with you so fast. You tell me how hard it’s been these last few days being in this room with you and not being able to touch you or talk to you knowing that even my voice wasn’t welcome. You tell me how it took that fucking bottle of bourbon to get me to admit the truth to you. You tell me how it’s possible you hooked me so fast, and then tell me how fucking hard it’s going to hurt when those hooks get ripped out because I have to let you go.”

  I let my head fall until my forehead touched the cool glass. “This isn’t fair.”

  “No, it’s not fucking fair,” he snapped. “Now tell me you lowered your finger for Reb, baby. Tell me it was for him and only him. Put me out of my misery and rip out the hooks now.”

  I shook my head, and those goddamn tears began burning my eyes. I was so fucking tired of crying, so fucking tired of my heart cracking open.

  “Tell me!” He yelled and shook me. His other hand curled around my upper chest to cup my shoulder. “Tell me, goddamnit. Tell me that wasn’t for me.”

  He was hard, pressing into me from behind, and I arched my back, forcing a low moan from his throat. “Tara—”

  “It was for you,” I said, opening my eyes and blinking unseeingly into the dark night sky. “I guess those hooks go both ways.”

  Even with the bourbon flooding his system, he moved fast, spinning me around, backing me up into the door and crashing his mouth into mine. I didn’t hesitate. I wanted this as bad as he did. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and slipped my fingers into his too-long hair. I let him take, and I gave until my head spun. Until all I could smell, feel, taste, touch and fucking sense was Lance.

  He loved me, and we didn’t work, couldn’t work, because how? But none of that mattered right now in this hotel room. All that mattered was the bourbon and Lance’s hard body against mine.

  He shoved his face into my neck and held me tight, so tight I couldn’t take a deep breath and I didn’t care. Especially when he rasped out in a ragged voice, “Fuck, I love you.”

  I opened my mouth to say it back when the shrill tone of a cell phone filled the room. He ignored it, not easing his arms a bit, but that phone kept ringing. It went to voicemail, and started again.

  Finally Lance growled and let go of me long enough to snatch it off the table before he put it to his ear. “What?”

  And then everything changed. His eyes cleared, his body went tight, and he said in a monotone. “You got me.” A pause. “Yep.”

  Then held the phone out to me, and in a dead voice that chilled me, he said. “It’s your brother. He wants to talk to you.”

  Twelve

  Tara

  “Tara.”

  My brother was sorry. He was always sorry. Often, I’d wished he was callous and hurtful. Then I could shut him out, erase him from my life. But he wasn’t, he never was. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he truly loved me, he’d treat me like dirt so I could forget him.

  Lance didn’t move as I held the phone to my ear. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He was a wax-sculpture Lance with dead eyes.

  I swallowed. “Hi Bryan.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice trembled, and I could feel my eyes getting wet. “You know I tried to keep you out of this, tried so hard. How did this happen?”

  “It’s complicated.” How the hell did I explain all this to my brother?

  “Got Anders’s message. Heard from Reb too. Why didn’t you want to go with him? He would have protected you.”

  “I didn’t want to go with Reb. I was waiting for you.”

  He hesitated before answering. “Safety deposit box.”

  “Yeah, I knew it was there and I knew you’d come get it eventually.”

  He blew out a harsh breath, but didn’t say anything more about it. I still didn’t know what was in it.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “I’m done,” he said, his voice low, defeat threaded through his words. “I’ll meet this guy wherever he wants, do what he wants. I don’t give a fuck. What lowlife uses a guy’s sister to—”

  “He said he won’t do anything,” I blurted.

  Lance still hadn’t moved, and I took that as he was still holding true to his promise. That he wouldn’t hurt my brother, that he’d hand me over and let us go. Let us start over.

  “What?” Bryan said.

  I stared into Lance’s eyes as I talked. “Look it’s… Lance and I met before he knew who I was, and vice versa and by met, I mean we, uh, met, and we…”

  “Oh Christ, Tara.”

  “He promised me he’d let me go with you,” I whispered.

  “Then why’d he take you in the first place? Reb said he shoved you in your car and you screamed. Why did he send me this message?”

  “Because he changed his mind,” I said.

  Bryan snorted. “Jesus fuck, Tara. After all this, you’re that naive.”

  “Please,” I said, crying now. “I just want to start over, with both of us alive.”

  “So I killed his brother and that’s it, he’s just going to let me go?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s it.”

  “And I’m supposed to be okay with that? I’m supposed to just let this man breathe easy knowin
g he wants to kill me?” Bryan had that tone, the tone I hated, the one that sent a chill down my spine.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “So help me God, Bryan. He’s been through enough. He’s a good man who lost his brother, so he gets how important mine is to me. He made a promise to me, and he’s keeping it. So you won’t touch him.” I ended with as much venom in my voice as possible.

  Bryan was silent for so long I thought he’d hung up. “Fuck me, Tara. You wanna know how much blood Reb would give to have heard you talk about him like that ever?”

  “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t bring him into this.”

  “In hindsight, I didn’t love him for you,” Bryan muttered. “Because I didn’t want you involved in our shit. Wanted you free and clear, maybe with some doctor or something boring like an accountant. And now you’re telling me that you fell for an ex-con who hates my guts and would love nothing more than to see me bleeding out in a dirty alley?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you bleeding out in a dirty alley,” I snapped, ignoring all the rest of what Bryan said.

  He laughed, but it was somber. “Right.”

  “I’m asking you, brother, to do one thing for me. Our whole lives I didn’t ask for anything. I let you be you, and I didn’t ask for one single thing for myself. But I’m asking you for this. You don’t hurt him. You meet with us, and you let him walk away intact and breathing.” I inhaled sharply and went for it. “If you touch him or hurt him, you know exactly what I can do.”

  I threw down the gauntlet. I’d never done that, not once, never threatened to go against my brother. My loyalty ran far, and now I knew just how far. I’d found the finish line, and right beyond it was Lance.

  Bryan sucked in a breath, wounded. “Wow. I see how it is.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Is this fighting?” His tone had changed, and affection was warming it up.

  I didn’t trust it though. “No, we’re not fighting.”

  “Put me on speaker.”

  I fiddled around with the phone until I found the speaker button, then held the phone between Lance and I. He only moved to drop his eyes to the display.

  “You’re on speaker now,” I said.

  “Anders there?” Bryan’s voice echoed around the room.

  Lance didn’t even flinch at the sound of his name. “Here,” he growled.

  “Right, so here’s my stipulation. I don’t touch you, but you don’t contact my sister again after this. I don’t want you knowing where we are in case you change your mind and decide to get that revenge. After this, we don’t exist for you. Take it or prepare your shit, because I’m not rolling over for you.”

  Lance locked eyes with me, and for ten agonizing seconds, he let it show. The pain, the frustration, the helplessness and—oh God kill me—the love. For me. He let it all show, and I knew it was for my benefit, his last gift to me, because then he shut it all down, went back to stone cold and said in a toneless voice. “Deal.”

  Bryan didn’t answer right away. “Really? That’s it? Not gonna fight for her?”

  Lance didn’t snap, didn’t give in to the bait. All he said was, “Where and when’s the hand off?”

  Part of me was glad. I didn’t want Bryan to have that part of Lance—that sizzling emotion. Only I got it, only I got the feelings and the pain. Bryan would get Lance’s back as he walked away. Forever.

  It sucked that all our choices led to this. But this was the path and there was no getting off it.

  “After we hang up, I’ll text you directions. A half hour later I’ll text another set of directions. Sorry, man, I know we got a deal, but I’m not about to give you a time and place and set up some shit and ambush me.”

  “So you get time to ambush me?” Lance asked.

  “Man,” Bryan said, and this was through clenched teeth. “I want my sister. I know you don’t trust my word, but to those who know me, it means something. I want my sister and that’s it. I’m already uneasy about this, don’t give me more reason.”

  “Heads up, I’ll be armed,” Lance said. “Not carrying it in my hand or some shit, but I don’t know you and I’m not meeting you without my piece.”

  “Same,” Bryan murmured.

  “We done?” Lance still held my eyes.

  “We’re done. I’ll text within the hour. Tara, see you soon. Love you.”

  Then the phone flashed as the call ended.

  We both stared at it. And in that moment, I wondered if there was a way to get out of this. A way to have my brother and Lance. Or just… Lance. Was I willing to give up my brother for Lance? And would that even work? I tried to imagine a life with Lance, knowing Bryan was out there waiting for us to turn on him. He wouldn’t hurt me, not ever, but I couldn’t trust he’d leave Lance alone.

  So this was it, the way to save Lance was to cut all ties with him, forget he existed, forget everything I felt and knew I’d never feel again.

  I dropped my hand to my side, the phone suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

  Lance again hadn’t moved. He was giving me nothing. Not one single thing, his body still. “Lance,” I whispered, wondering if I was reading him right, if he was trying to find a way for us to be together. “He’d never let us go, never let us be happy…”

  Pain slashed through his features before he closed his eyes and turned away. His movements were robotic as he picked up his cigarettes. He unlocked the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him. He lit up the cigarette, the dull glow lighting up his face for a moment before he inhaled deeply and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, once again plunging his face into darkness.

  I could do one of two things—I could shower and sober the fuck up, then get this over with as fast as possible. Or I could walk out onto that balcony and take advantage of the time we had left. I knew what my head was telling me, and I knew what my heart wanted, but they didn’t agree. I stood paralyzed, two parts of me warring.

  Lance leaned on the balcony and hung his head between his shoulders, hands gripping the iron. What would he do after this? I wanted to believe he’d find a small town, settle down, make furniture and find a pretty town librarian with a heart of gold who saw the man he was underneath and fall in love. They’d start a family and have kids—two boys. They’d try for a third because his wife really wanted a girl, but they’d end up with another boy.

  Lance put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

  I still didn’t move.

  In Lance’s imaginary future life, he’d donate some furniture to the local homeless shelter, and his wife would be so proud. She was probably a baker, a wholesome woman from a nice family. Lance would be happy and fulfilled. He’d forget all about me, and he’d look back at this time thinking he’d dodged a bullet—literally. That he’d risen from the ashes—me being part of those ashes—to have a better life, a good life.

  As for me, well I wasn’t sure. Maybe Bryan would work as a mechanic and I’d date one of his co-workers, a decent guy, a nice guy, who maybe drank a little too much beer and wasn’t the best at going down on me, but he was nice. I was okay with nice—

  Hands gripped my face. While I was writing our fictionalized future in my head, I hadn’t heard the balcony door, hadn’t felt the cool night breeze or smelled the cigarette smoke. But now my gaze was full of Lance, and he was no longer shut down, he was giving it to me again, the pain and anger, and the goddamn longing, and I was sure my expression was a mirror image, because I sure felt it down to my bones.

  “Your choice,” Lance said softly. “You want me to get out of your space and not touch you again, I’ll do it, Tara. I’ll do it in a damn heartbeat. I won’t look at you, won’t speak to you. Whatever you fucking want. But you gotta know, for me, I want our last moments together to be like this. I want something happy to remember us by than sitting in this hotel room ignoring how we feel.”

  Yes, he was killing me. Tears ran down my cheeks as I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “You’ll
have this again.” His body jerked, but I kept talking. “You’ll start over. Go find a small town, make your furniture. Meet a nice librarian with a name like Samantha.”

  His eyes darkened for a brief moment, and he murmured, “What the fuck?”

  I kept going, ignoring his look. “You’ll forget about me, as you should. You’ll forget and be happy and be glad you didn’t risk anything stupid for me.”

  “Tara,” he growled.

  “You will,” I insisted, needing him to agree, because maybe I needed that, maybe I needed to know he would be okay. “Tell me you will. Tell me you’ll be happy.”

  “What is this about?” He shook me.

  “I want you to be happy, and I want to know that you’ll remember me as a mistake, that you won’t try to make this into more than what it was—”

  He shook me again, harder, hard enough that my teeth clacked together. “Will you be happy?” He gritted out, his eyes blazing. “Will you look at me as a mistake? Will you move on and be happy and marry some guy with a safe job? Have his kids? Regret meeting me?”

  I didn’t answer, because my throat was clogged, my shoulders twitching with the sobs I was trying to hide.

  He shook me again. “Answer me!” he roared in my face. “Tell me to my face that’s what you’ll think.”

  “No!” I shouted, the force of my voice surprising him and me, as he reared back without taking his hands off me. “I won’t. Until the day I die, I’ll wonder if there was a way to keep you.”

  He crashed his lips into mine, mouth open, tongue searching, not giving me a minute to catch my breath or wipe the tears from my face. No, he was all in, devouring me, taking from me, and I let him. I let him until I gripped his face and took back. I clawed at his shoulders, climbing his body until his hands gripped my ass and pulled. I circled my legs around his waist and then we were moving, down, my back against the bed, Lance’s weight on me. He was growling, and I was moaning, and the hotel room was a cacophony of pain and desire and anguish.

  “Fuck,” Lance bit off, pressing his face into my neck as he shoved his hands down my underwear. I was wet already. In seconds. From that kiss, and from his big hands on my panty-clad ass. As soon as his fingers touched me, I jerked, and he groaned, long and low. “How,” he murmured into my neck. “Fucking how is this possible? That you’re you and I’m me, and yet we’re like this together?” He pulled back to watch my face as he plunged two fingers inside. My mouth dropped open on a silent scream and he watched me the whole time. I bucked against him, riding his hand as his thumb went right to the hard bead of my clit.