Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

  The pain in her own chest had nothing to do with the bruises and torn muscles.

  Chasing four ibuprofens with a glass of water, she collapsed into bed and tried to sleep. But even though her aching body had gone beyond exhaustion, her mind wouldn’t shut down.

  Could it be only a few days ago she and Garrison were wrapped each other’s arms in steamy passion? She trailed her hand over a breast, recalling his touch, his mouth, his ...

  She rolled on her right side, hugging a pillow to her chest. Contrast that hot and heavy night of pleasure with last night’s horrors. Holy mother of God.

  What in the world had happened when Garrison went into that weird trance with Hank? She’d never seen anything like it before. Almost like the two men’s minds were linked together for a long time. Whatever had happened, Garrison’s haunted expression spoke of horror and pain.

  Oh God, he had almost died last night. She had almost died. Hank might be dead, and sorry to say it, but good riddance. Zach had almost died because Sara had failed at her job.

  Her career had imploded.

  She literally had nothing but the roof over her head, which soon she wouldn’t be able to afford.

  Nausea churned in her stomach, and her cheekbone ached like hell. Every inch of her body hurt. Like, run over by a Mack truck hurt.

  Too bad she didn’t have any tears left.

  • • •

  The late morning light did not raise her spirits.

  Confusion clouded her thoughts. What day was it? Tuesday. Yesterday—Monday—she had been teaching. Before ... last night ... in the shack ...

  Oh God, she had missed work!

  With a lurch that jarred her aching body, she managed to reach her cell phone. A message blinked. The number from school.

  Holy Mary, it was too soon to be fired. She couldn’t handle more heartbreak today.

  But her class was her responsibility. With a sob, she hit the message button.

  “Sara, this is Butch Brand. I’m, ah, so sorry about what happened with my ... with Hank. I took the liberty of calling a substitute for you today ...”

  Blackness tinged her vision. Such an awful way to get fired.

  “You take your time and get better. When you’ve recovered, your job will be waiting for you. And again, I’m sorry for my ... for not being a better principal in this ... with what happened. Yeah.”

  What?

  Incredulous, she stared at her phone and hit replay, in case she’d hallucinated the entire message. Nope. Her job was safe.

  Long enough for her to finish the semester and move away from Copper River and Garrison Taggart.

  Relief flooded her limbs until she couldn’t move, so she did the next best thing and sank back into the mattress.

  A few hours later, Sara finally got out of bed. Every joint in her body creaked. Hard to tell which her muscles hated more: movement or gravity. Neither did her any favors.

  Checking her messages, she read a text from Izzy.

  I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk to me again, pls call. If you don’t, I understand.

  As much as Sara wanted to call her friend back, she didn’t have the emotional energy to spare right now. Of course she didn’t blame Izzy, bless her friend’s sweet heart. Izzy had nothing to do with Hank’s insanity or Wyatt’s part in the kidnapping.

  I’m okay. Call you later.

  Trudging into the kitchen, she made herself tea and a sandwich. Damn, even chewing made her jaw hurt.

  At one point in the early evening, Sara jumped out of her skin at a knock at the front door. After the footsteps faded away, she cracked the front door and pulled a still-warm casserole dish into the house, along with a note from a coworker with wishes for Sara to get well.

  Get well? Nothing would cure this entire situation. Not even tasty, cheesy casserole.

  Empty sadness hollowed out Sara’s chest until she struggled to breathe.

  Only one thing to do.

  So she went back to sleep until her watch informed her that another night had elapsed. Wednesday. Fabulous. She was losing huge chunks of time to her misery, pain, and exhaustion.

  Feeling slightly more human, she took a ridiculously long bath and changed into actual clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, at least somewhat ready to slog through the day.

  With sore arms, she assembled and taped cardboard boxes and laid them around the house. Might as well pack now.

  She’d be leaving at the end of the semester, just over a month away.

  Couldn’t face her students. Couldn’t deal with her own role in the Taggerts’ troubles.

  Couldn’t bear seeing Garrison again.

  Couldn’t remain here in Copper River.

  She’d implement her exit strategy early. Somehow, she would pay off the debt owed to the school district. She’d call her friend in Atlanta and try to get a foot in the door with the district there. Heck, Sara could substitute teach until a permanent position opened up.

  Anything to survive.

  Anything to get out of this town.

  Thirty minutes into box creation, she gave up and curled up on the couch, head aching, muscles weak. Time to feel sorry for herself for a minute. She rubbed her hip, recalling Garrison’s tender touch. She imagined his warm gaze consuming her as he made love to her.

  Damn it. Now the tears came, welling up from deep inside of her soul.

  And they didn’t stop.

  Waves of sadness swamped her, blocked out all of her senses.

  A tapping sound began. It had to be coming from her throbbing head.

  The sound persisted.

  The front door. Damn it, she didn’t want any more well-wishers. She didn’t want any prying eyes evaluating how badly she’d been beaten up. It was none of their business.

  She tried putting the throw pillow over her head, but the tapping continued.

  Dear Lord, could these people not take a hint?

  As she winced her way to the front door, she clenched her teeth, ready to be polite but firm. She yanked open the door.

  Garrison filled up too much space on the front porch.

  He had a bouquet of lilies in one hand, a steaming bag full of what smelled like Hungry Moose chicken, and keys and her purse dangling from his other hand.

  He’d healed up about as well as she had. Butterfly bandages bridged a cut on his temple and purple bruises covered most of his face. A patch of swelling distorted one corner of his grimly set mouth.

  Too exhausted to react, she stood there and stared at him.

  His burnished eyebrows shot up, and a wary smile grew on the half of his face that wasn’t swollen.

  Time slowed. How long had she stood there, mute?

  He shifted from foot to foot. “So ...”

  “How is Zach?”

  “He’s fine. Complete recovery, amazing kid.”

  “Good. Um, your dad?”

  He nodded and pressed his mouth into a line. “He ended up having a stroke prior to arriving at the ER. Too late to give him the clot-busting medicines, so they observed him in the hospital here. He’ll be coming back home tomorrow. Refused going to the rehab facility and all, stubborn man.”

  “Will he be okay?”

  “Not sure how much he’ll recover. We’ll take care of him at home, where he belongs.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at home, then? Where you belong?”

  A light glinted in his gold-flecked eyes. Well, the one eye that wasn’t swollen, anyway. “That’s an interesting comment. I’ve done some thinking. It’s time for me to readjust priorities.”

  “Well, um, that’s good, then.” Quiet and cold air filled the lonely space in the conversation. “So why are you here?”

  When he stepped to the side, she did a double take.

  Her car was parked in front of her house. She’d left it at the school. He’d brought it back here for her.

  “Garrison?”

  His brow furrowed, and then he stood up straight, like he’d made a decision.

&nb
sp; “So, Sara. Here I am, standing on your porch with my hands full of stuff I don’t normally carry. I’m sore and really tired, and it’s cold outside.” He cleared his throat, and a hint of a smile crossed his bruised face. “Here you are, standing in a warm and toasty house. Your hands are empty. And your mouth is open, by the way.”

  She closed it, head spinning. An odd shadow flickered near her car, then was gone. Probably a trick of the light.

  A cold chill came and went through her spine.

  “Um, come in?” Smooth, so smooth. She shut the door behind his tall, solid frame.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” When he limped on the leg that Hank had brutally kicked, her heart twisted. After depositing the food in the kitchen, he set the bouquet, purse, and keys down on the coffee table.

  “Thank you. Wow.”

  “So I was feeling guilty about what you went through. Figured I should return your stuff.” He grimaced. Damn him, how the glint in his eye made him even more handsome, despite the swollen lip and bruises on his face.

  But she didn’t live in a fantasy world. She needed to address reality. “Pardon me for asking the question, but why the heck are you even here?”

  When she sat on the far end of the couch, he gave her a lopsided smile and sat right next to her.

  Her heart tripped several beats.

  Dealing with saying good-bye to Garrison with all that heat from his muscled thigh brushing against hers added a degree of difficulty she couldn’t handle today.

  However, she’d own up to her part in the disaster. “Look, Garrison, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” His smile froze on his bruised face.

  Her neck warmed. “The mess with Hank. Losing Zach at school. Oh, God.”

  “How hard did you get hit on the head?”

  “What?”

  “You’re obviously delusional.” He touched her uninjured cheek, and damned if she didn’t lean into his hand. “The way I see it, I owe you an apology.”

  “How you see it?” She tried crossing her arms, then gave up when it hurt too much.

  “Hank’s had my number for a while. He hated me because of his own insecurities. He had a real screw loose with all that talk about a Great One. Then he resented me because of Tiffani. Frankly, the feeling is mutual.”

  “I’m so—I don’t know what to say about Tiffani.”

  He pressed his lips together and bowed his head. Then he pinned Sara with an intense gaze. The corners of his mouth dropped. “There’s nothing for you to say. It’s history.” He swallowed. “I feel bad that Zach has to grow up without his mother. But she and I had no real marriage and no future. I should have known. It was within my skill to know.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My ability to detect the truth? My psychic power.” He tapped his head. “I’m not like other people.”

  She scooted over, like being a few more inches away from him somehow would protect her. “Wait. What are you talking about? What do you mean you’re ‘not like other people’? You were serious about the lie detector thing last week?”

  “Okay, that came out wrong. Please. I’m like other people, but I can tell when folks are telling the truth. Get into people’s heads.”

  “Like invade their minds?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.”

  “So you just ... do this thing ... whenever you feel like it?” Her hand fluttered up over her forehead, like she needed to protect herself.

  From him.

  “No, not like that. Yes, I went into Hank’s mind to find out the truth. And more. But that was different. I don’t normally go around doing that to folks.”

  “What about me?” Her ears buzzed as if hornets swarmed nearby.

  A pause. “Yeah, I did it on you before.” He stared at the floor, up at her, and then quickly back down again.

  She rolled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “You didn’t believe me? And somehow you can justify the invasion of my mind with your ability?” Pushing to her feet, she had to get some distance between herself and Garrison.

  He remained on the couch. “Please, let me explain. I’ll tell you everything, and then I’ll leave if you want me to. I swear.”

  Waving her hand, she backed away another step. “Fine. Go on. But stay over there.”

  His grim expression almost made her pause. Almost.

  He cleared his throat. “So I never told anyone, and didn’t want to admit it myself, but before she left, I used my power on her. One of the times I truly regretted using the ability.”

  “So you knew she was cheating?”

  “No, I couldn’t go that far. I was too chicken. But I asked her several questions. She lied to every one of them. Way too easily.” He stared at the floor. “I couldn’t ask her the hard question.”

  Anger bled away. What price did he pay to use his power? What price had he paid avoiding its use? An image formed of Garrison in the cafeteria in grade school, eating a PB&J sandwich and drinking his chocolate milk, all by himself. Then an image of a lean, tall, jeans-clad Garrison in college, resting on the arena fence rails, far away from the other rodeo teammates.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I couldn’t ask her if she loved me. Didn’t need to, anyway. I knew the answer.”

  He stared into the space in front of him.

  The silence hurt as much as her bruises. He had been through so much with a woman who had betrayed him. The ability he hated but had been forced to use took something away from the proud man before her.

  Could she trust him?

  Could Sara be with a guy who would know if she ever lied?

  No problem, since she had no intention of lying to him, ever.

  Maybe they had a future after all.

  Sara couldn’t ask him the hard question, either, so she settled for something easier to handle. “Were there other times you wished you hadn’t used your gift?”

  “Yeah. The parent-teacher conference with you. And I apologize. It was an invasion of your privacy. It was wrong.”

  She touched her temple. “Is that why my head hurt?”

  “I’m so sorry. You have no idea.” He stood up and faced her. “After I used it on my ex, I vowed never to use it again. But obviously I broke that promise. Several times.”

  “So you didn’t trust me?” Damn it if tears didn’t prick at her eyes. Here she thought she was all cried out.

  His eyes raked her face, then looked away. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What about now?” she whispered, crossing her arms.

  “Sara ...” He reached toward her, then dropped his hand.

  “Well, it makes sense in a twisted way. You did what you had to for your family. For Zach.”

  “The ends didn’t justify the means, and we both know it. I can’t promise I won’t use my power again.”

  “Wow.” She let disappointment drip off the word.

  He turned his palm up. “But I can promise I won’t use it on you ever again.”

  “Well, um, that’s honest, I guess.” Her heart thumped. “So what now?”

  “Sara, why are you still here?”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “In Copper River? Or in my house?”

  “Standing here in front of me. Not running away. Not kicking me out.”

  Blood pooled at her feet until she swayed in place. “I don’t have a good answer.”

  “I do.” He swallowed. “Maybe you’re still here to give me a tiny bit of hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “That maybe we have a future.” He pointed to the boxes littering the living room. “But then I see all of this and wonder.”

  Holy mother, he was going to make her actually say it? “It’s for when, you know, I’m gone at the end of the semester. Because. Zach. You. What Hank did. And everything here.” Since when had stringing words together become so difficult?

  She clenched her teeth together.

  When he took her hands, the dam burst and she pulled away from
him, burying her face in her hands, working to get hold of her emotions. God, she didn’t want him to see her cry. She was stronger than these tears. She could yank off the Band-Aid. Walk away from Garrison, once and for all. She could do this.

  Warmth seeped through her sweatshirt into her skin. When she turned her head, she spied his hand resting on her shoulder.

  After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes. “So why all the questions? What’s the deal?”

  “You’re the deal.” He took her hands again.

  “Okay, now you’re talking in riddles.”

  “Sara, I don’t need my ability to know that you’ve never lied to me.” He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her wrists until her skin tingled. “You’re so great for Zach and for me. You’re a light in my darkness. You’re smart and sweet. And you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. I will never get enough of you.” He took a deep breath. “But here’s the deal. I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to go to hell for everything I’ve put you through, for the lack of faith I had in you.”

  “I would never—”

  He slid his finger over her lips, stilling them. “I have some serious baggage, no question. There are major trust issues, and I haven’t had a healthy relationship because of that lack of trust. But I realize that the problem is with me, not with my partner.”

  When he tilted her chin up, the focus of his eyes locked onto hers, knocking her equilibrium half a degree off plumb.

  Could she do it? Could she believe him? Try again? If she tried, how badly could he hurt her?

  Badly.

  She stared at him.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “You don’t have to agree to forever with me. But I want another chance with you, Sara, if you’ll give it to me. I want the chance to convince you to stay in Copper River.”

  “But what about my own baggage?”

  “We all have pasts. I couldn’t care less about yours.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I care about who you are now. And the woman in front of me is beautiful, intelligent, and hotter than molten lava. If you think that we could have a future together, I want to try. I love you, Sara Lopez.”