Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2)

by Carey Heywood

  “They’ve been lucky enough to have friends band around them. I get that we aren’t blood but my parents and I consider them family. Jake and Kacey have also become close with the family of his roommate from the rig. Did you ever meet Erik?”

  Her eyes stay on me and she shakes her head. “Not really, only once or twice in passing.”

  I sense her eyes but keep mine on the road. “It’s sad. He was an only child.”

  “How awful,” she murmurs.

  Neither of us say anything while I park. We remain silent while I pull her wheelchair from the trunk and position it by her door.

  It’s not until we’re inside my apartment that I finally ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue. “Tomorrow, when I go to see my mom at lunch, will you come with me?”

  She stares at me, before finally replying, “Go with you to see your mom?”

  I slowly nod, wondering if my question was unclear. “Yes.”

  She looks down at her lap, her good hand worrying at the graying bandaging material that peeks out around her thumb from under her purple cast.

  “Sydney?”

  Her hand continues to pinch and pull at it as she looks up at me. “I don’t know who you are.”

  My brows knit together. “What?”

  Her response is so bizarre I begin to wonder if she somehow knocked her head during her therapy.

  “You are like three different people and I can’t figure you out at all,” she explains, which only serves to confuse me further.

  “Three different people?”

  She nods. “There was the Heath I was falling for. The charming, playful, sexy man who spent almost a week in my bed. Then there was the Heath who asked another girl to marry him like I didn’t even exist. Now there’s the Heath who kisses my forehead and takes care of me. I don’t know which one you are.”

  I sink down into one of the chairs behind me and bend forward, dropping my head into my hands as her words swirl in the air around me like little buzzing gnats. Why hadn’t I seen this before, her confusion, her uncertainty around me? It’s amazing she hasn’t gotten whiplash from the way I’ve treated her.

  I lift my head and settle my gaze on her eyes. “They’re all me. I’m human and make mistakes. I’m also an idiot for not understanding what we had at first. It wasn’t until later when I wasn’t so wrapped up in what other people thought that I finally got it. I’m all of those guys in varying degrees. One of those guys wasn’t thinking at all, the two that were, only thought of you.”

  Her mouth tightens and she looks away from me and into my living room. The air around us is tense as I wait for her to say something.

  When she does, it’s, “I’d like to go with you tomorrow.”

  That’s it?

  She still hasn’t looked at me, her gaze still focused on something, anything, other than me.

  “What can I do to make you see I want you in my life?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  I move, crossing the room until I’m all she can see. “Please give me another chance. When she doesn’t say anything, I lean forward and press my lips to hers. “You’re all I want,” I murmur against them.

  She sighs and I move, my hand reaching up to gently grip her neck as my tongue slides into her mouth. My hold is loose enough that she could easily pull away from me but she doesn’t. Her hand comes up and mirrors mine, holding me at my neck as her tongue touches mine.

  I do not deepen the kiss, no matter how much I want to. She’s about as skittish as it gets and I’m not going to do anything that might make her pull away from me. No, I nip at her bottom lip, sliding my tongue over that spot before grinning against her lips.

  When I feel wetness hit my cheek, my grin vanishes and I pull back to see her silently crying.

  “Oh no, baby,” I murmur, cupping her face in my hands, and pressing my lips to her cheeks as I try to kiss her tears away. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  She blinks at me with wet eyes as I kiss her tears away.

  “Please don’t cry.” I keep kissing her cheeks even though no more tears fall.

  I hate this. I hate that I caused this. I hate that I don’t know how to fix it. I hate that she’s in pain.

  “I want to trust you but I’m scared.”

  I pinch my eyes shut and lower my head to her lap, my hands going to either side of her waist. She rests her hand on the top of my head.

  “I do. I want to believe you. I’m trying to, I am,” she continues.

  Her words, her shaking voice as she says them all, slice me inside. All this time I’ve pushed her and pushed her to forgive, with no clue of the battle she was fighting inside. No, I had to be an asshole and force my company on her, forcing my apologies as well. What I should have given her was space and time instead of using her confinement to a wheelchair as a way to keep her by my side.

  I didn’t even give her the space to sleep alone. She had been clear the first night that she did not want to sleep in my bed and I forced it anyway.

  “I’m such a selfish bastard.” I groan, lifting my head.

  She shakes hers. “No, you’ve been so wonderful to me. You’ve taken care of me. I’m the one who is wrong because I’ve said the words but I don’t truly know how to forgive you.”

  “I should have given you the space you wanted. I’m an asshole for pushing you the way I have.”

  She reaches up to cup my face. “What do you want, Heath?”

  I stare at her. Isn’t it obvious? “I want you.”

  Her eyes soften. “You want me how? In your bed, to be your girlfriend, or something more?”

  “More, Sydney, so much more,” I reply.

  Her thumb caresses my cheek. “You terrify me.”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do. Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything. Please, just tell me what to do.”

  She’s crying again. “Kiss me.”

  I do as she asks. I kiss her. I taste her lips, her tongue, her tears, her laugh. I refuse to be the first one to pull away. My emotions are all over the fucking place. I’m turned on, I’m nervous, I’m still pissed at myself for making her cry, I’m hopeful. Each emotion is buzzing like a live current inside of me. My skin is tight as my insides expand to hold them all in.

  She asked me to kiss her. It’s a step to getting her back and a step to her trusting me again. I’m willing to take a million steps if it means she’s waiting there for me at the end of them. I’ll prove myself to her.

  She breaks our kiss, lifting her hand to touch her now pink lips.

  I stay kneeling before her, waiting and willing my body to relax. The last thing I want her assuming is it’s all about the physical for me. It may have started that way, but so much has changed.

  While my physical attraction to her has only grown stronger, it’s the pull she now has on my mind and my heart that will have me fighting till my last breath for her.

  As soon as my body is completely under my control again, I ask, “Hungry?”

  She laughs and it’s music to my ears. My question was unexpected given the intensity of what just happened. I love her reaction appreciates the absurdity of it.

  She nods, wiping at her eyes. “Food sounds good.”

  She’s still sticking to soft foods, pasta, rice, bread, mashed potatoes, guacamole, fondue, and soups. For snacks she’ll munch on crackers, only letting them soften on her tongue before she tries to chew them.

  Every day I still make a protein smoothie for her so she can drink what she isn’t able to chew.

  She keeps me company while I cook.

  “How is your mom doing?” she asks.

  I shrug, my back to her. “She has good days and bad days. The bad days make us appreciate the good ones.”

  I hear her gulp and then she asks, “Do you think she’ll like me?”

  I turn off the burner and move to her. Getting right in her space, I cup her face so she can’t look away.
“Baby, she’s going to love you.”

  Her cheeks turn pink. “Really?”

  I nod, leaning close to touch my mouth to hers. “She’s been asking for me to bring you over almost every day. I only waited because I was scared you’d say no.”

  She cocks her head to the side and I can’t tell if she’s pissed I haven’t asked her until now. “Are you sure you want her to meet me?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I’ve told her all about you,” I reply.

  Her brows come together. “You’ve told your mom about me?”

  I lean back, not sure I understand why this is such a surprise to her. “Yes, and my dad.”

  She covers her face with her hand and looks down.

  “Sydney?”

  She shakes her head, lifting her casted arm as if to ward me off.

  What the hell?

  I move my hand under her chin and raise it. She doesn’t fight me. If she had, I’d have tried another way to get her to look at me.

  “Baby, what’s going on?”

  “I thought,” she gulps, takes a steadying breath and then gulps again before continuing, “that you were ashamed of me.”

  Fuck.

  “No, no, no, no. I’m not, Sydney. I’m falling in love with you. Hell, I’m ready to shout it from the rooftops, hire someone to write it across the sky. I’m crazy about you and I don’t care who knows it. The only thing that’s been stopping me is my fear that it would scare you off.”

  She hiccups. “You aren’t ashamed of me?”

  “Why would I be?” I ask, honestly confused.

  Her eyes lower. “I don’t look or dress like Kacey.”

  I close my eyes, hating myself.

  Then, I inhale and open them so that I’m looking directly into her wet eyes. “I wish I had a better reason for why I proposed to Kacey. It wasn’t love and it wasn’t attraction. I’ve known her a long time and we got drunk together. I was worried about my mom and Kacey hated people thinking she was a fool for loving Jake.”

  “It was something we both should have laughed off the next morning but because of me, we didn’t. I regretted it but instead of admitting I was a dumbass, who said something he didn’t mean, I instead worried what people would think of me. I latched onto this idea that I was doing it to make my mom happy. It was a giant mistake that ended up hurting the people I cared about the most.”

  She hiccups again and I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear. “I didn’t intend to hurt you. I didn’t understand the ramifications of what I started until it was too late. My mom and dad want to meet you because they know what you mean to me. As for you not looking like Kacey, I can’t argue with that. She’s pretty and sweet but for me, she’ll never hold a candle to you.”

  She gulps, then says, “Okay.”

  I lean back, my eyes searching her face. “Okay, you’ll come with me to my parents’ or okay you’re willing to give this another try?”

  She laughs, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “I guess both.”

  My lips spread into a wide grin. “Really?”

  She nods, parting her lips to say something but I kiss her before she has a chance. Dropping my hands to her waist, I lift her, trying and not succeeding at not breaking our kiss.

  “What are you doing?” She gasps as I walk her over to my couch and settle her sideways across my lap.

  The cast on her arm hits me but I ignore the pain. “Leaning over your chair sucked. This is better,” I reply, capturing her lips again.

  Her hand presses against my chest, gently pushing me back. “I want to take things slow.”

  Those words make me freeze. “How slow? No kissing?”

  She laughs and I realize my expression must look crestfallen. I’ve missed her lips and felt like an asshole for wanted to taste her tongue, considering her mouth being wired shut and all. Now that I’m finally able to kiss her, it will seriously suck if she wants to stop.

  “Kissing is good. I’m meant the stuff that comes after kissing.”

  Her blush as she murmurs those words is so hot I have to stop myself from kissing her again. Instead, I focus on what she said. “The stuff after kissing?”

  She nods.

  Admittedly, when we first got together we practically dragged each other into bed. It was hot. It was so hot it redefined what hot meant to me. Things are different now.

  Not that I don’t hope like hell we can get back to the heat we once had. I’m okay with slow. Back then I didn’t understand we were ever, could ever be more than sex. I didn’t appreciate all Sydney was outside of the physical.

  Getting a chance to know her, to spend time with her when we both keep all of our clothes on opened my eyes. If I’m being honest with myself, it hit me how special she was months ago, the moment I knew I could never have her.

  “I’m good with slow.” I rest my hand on the cast on her leg. “And, not just because I’d probably get whacked by one of your casts.”

  She bites her bottom lip and I groan. There is something so sexy about her perfect white teeth pressing against her plump lower lip.

  There’s a teasing quality to it. She’s biting back a laugh. Is she trying to picture us doing more without one of her casts injuring me?

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “All of this. It’s insane.”

  I shake my head, pressing my face into her neck. “No, you are the only thing that makes sense.”

  With my ear so close to her throat, I can hear as she swallows at my words. It’s the truth. I don’t care if the whole world thinks we’re crazy; we’ll know better.

  “What are your parents like?” she asks after a long pause.

  With my arms loosely wrapped around her, I say, “My mom is the strongest person I’ve ever known. Which is funny because on the outside for as long as I can remember, she seems weak. My dad told me once not to let appearances ever fool you. That on the inside my mom has the heart of a lion.”

  “I like that.” She sighs, her body settling further against mine.

  My arms tighten. “After he first told me that, it confused me. I was young and knew my mom had a heart condition. For a long time, I thought it was because she truly had the heart of a lion and it was somehow incompatible with her human body.”

  Her hand comes up to touch my face. “That’s so sad.”

  I laugh but it’s devoid of humor. “I didn’t know it was an expression. It wasn’t until I had worked myself up to the point that I was sick with worry over it that I talked to my dad. He had been trying to help me by saying it in the first place so he was crushed that he had inadvertently caused me so much anxiety. From that point on he was always very clinical with me when it came to explaining what was wrong with her. Once I understood her lion’s heart meant her inner strength and courage, I took comfort in thinking of her that way.”

  “I’ll bet,” she murmurs.

  “What superhero obsessed little boy wouldn’t want a mom with the heart of a lion?”

  After dinner and Heath telling me all about his mom and dad, we make our way to his bed. I’ve already slept with him in it each night that I’ve been here; it would be silly to stop now.

  Now, that we’re . . . what exactly are we?

  “What are we?” I blurt.

  He can’t hide his confusion. “Huh?”

  “To each other,” I explain without really explaining.

  He reaches for my hand. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Syd.”

  I look down at our hands and watch as his thumb caresses the back of mine. Why is this question so hard to ask? At every turn will my doubt have to rear its ugly head?

  “Am I your girlfriend?” I quietly ask.

  The silence that follows is deafening.

  His thumb stills on my hand and I continue to stare down at where we are joined. Ten fingers, five of his and five of mine, curled into each other. His hand is not the first I’ve ever held but that doesn’t stop his hand from feeling uniquely
comforting.

  Why hasn’t he said anything?

  Is that a no?

  Oh God, that’s what it is, a no.

  I replay our words from earlier. Clearly where I had assumed a deeper level of implied commitment, he had meant only dating.

  “Sydney, look at me.”

  Crap, this is the part where he tries to explain why he didn’t mean girlfriend without trying to hurt me. I can’t look up. If I do, all I’ll see is pity in his eyes.

  His other hand moves under my chin, lifting it. Stubbornly, my eyes remain downcast out of self-preservation.

  “Are you always going to be this difficult?”

  That does the trick.

  I look up and glare at him, my annoyance at his words dissolving once my eyes meet his.

  “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks.

  He’s close enough to kiss, so I do, hoping my lips answer for me.

  In Heath fashion, he takes over, deepening our kiss and turning it into something so hot I swear my ovaries quiver.

  Even though it was me who brought up the whole taking things slow idea, if I wasn’t half covered in casts, I’d be trying to ride him. Never in my life would I have ever thought I’d be grateful for broken bones.

  He needs to tone down his sexy. Sad thing is I’m not sure that’s possible. There is something about Heath Mackey that just does it for me.

  It’s almost as if every guy before him was a bike with training wheels. I still took them out for a ride but it never did anything for me. Fast forward to the day those training wheels came off and the same bike was suddenly a whole new ride.

  It was part of the reason getting over him was impossible.

  He pulls back, licking his lips as though he can still taste me. “Was that a yes?”

  I stare at his mouth and nod.

  He groans. “If we’re going to take this slow, you need to stop looking at me like that.”

  “How am I looking at you?” I ask.

  He grins. “Like slow is the last thing on your mind.”

  He’s so right. Okay, slow, slow, slow.

  “All right,” I reply, not disagreeing with him. “Can we talk?”

  He tilts his head to the side. “About?”

  “I want to know more about you. Your likes and dislikes. I get that we’re compatible physically. . . .”