Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2)

by Carey Heywood

  I’ll never be ready to say good-bye to her, but it’s not up to any of us.

  It’s finally sinking in that at some point, she’s going to be gone. That I’ll pick up my phone to call her, or I’ll go to forward her a stupid funny e-mail and she won’t be there to receive it.

  This morning I made the mistake of clicking on a video I saw on Facebook. It was military servicemen and women who were home from tours overseas and surprising their moms.

  I should have turned it off the second I figured out what it was but I kept watching it. The moms, for the most part, their reactions were identical. Their hands came up, covering their open mouths as happy tears streamed down their faces.

  I hadn’t even left the country and was never in harm’s way while I was away at school and my mom made that exact face and cried just as hard. I’ll never be able to return all of the love she’s given me my whole life. I’ll never be able to sum up how grateful I am that she is my mom out of every other mom out there.

  Even though I’ve visited her daily, with everything going on with Sydney, I’ve been distracted.

  “Sydney has a doctor appointment tomorrow. With luck, the casts on her leg will come off. The break in her arm was worse so we won’t know till then. She can stay at my place since there aren’t any stairs and I’ll come stay here.”

  My dad squeezes my arm but doesn’t tell me no.

  Fuck.

  There’s a tray of food and another of drinks already prepped on the kitchen table. He picks up one and I grab the other. Focus on the tray, one step in front of the other.

  My thoughts are a swirl of my mom and Sydney, the women in my life.

  Walking through the door to the den, I drink in the two of them together. That settles like a weight, a reassuring one deep within me. I have no control over the future but being able to introduce Sydney to my mom helps. Someday, when I’ll need someone to talk to about her, I like that it won’t be like talking about a stranger.

  There’s more than one table in the den. I set the tray of drinks I’m carrying on the one at the foot of my mom’s hospital bed.

  “Thirsty?” I ask.

  My mom shakes her head while Sydney nods. Standing apart from them, the similarities hit me. I got my blond hair and blue eyes from Mom. While Sydney’s usual blonde is darker than either of ours, she reminds me of old pictures of my mom. Pictures that were taken long before she had health problems. Their similarities don’t end there. It’s their eyes, not the physical shape or color of them, it’s the way you can see right into their souls.

  That, at least now, is where the similarities end. It’s been weeks since the mudslide. Other than still being stuck in her casts, she looks healed.

  While her mouth was wired shut, she lost weight. Now that she isn’t on a liquid diet, it’s coming back. Sitting next to my mom, she looks beautiful and full of life. It’s so stark in comparison to how weak my mom looks.

  The contentment I felt at their meeting fades when I realize it’s all my fault that this meeting didn’t happen ages ago. They could be old friends by now. They’re not and that’s all on me.

  Woodenly, I bring Sydney her drink. Her eyes search mine as the glass passes from my hand to hers. She can tell something is up but doesn’t let on to it.

  I pull the chair I offered her earlier up so I can sit beside Sydney. “How are you two getting along?”

  It’s my mom who answers. “I was just showing Sydney your baby pictures.”

  My eyes move to the open photo album I somehow missed, sitting open on Sydney’s lap. On one page is a picture of me lying naked on a fluffy white blanket, on the other is me in a high chair stuffing my face with birthday cake.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I groan.

  She laughs and I stare at her, drinking it in, soaking up every single second of it. Hell, I’d let her show the whole world my naked baby pictures just to hear her laugh. Her joy is short lived though, her laugh becoming a cough, a bad one. A cough that hurts anyone who hears it. Sydney can’t hide her concern. Her body is tense, her lips pressed between her teeth, and that crease in her forehead is back.

  My dad moves, getting Mom’s oxygen tank and putting her mask on for her. Instead of sitting up and laughing, she’s slumped back against her bed, a film of sweat across her brow, her eyes wild as her chest rises and falls.

  My dad and I both reach for her. One on either side of her, we each take a hand. My gaze moves from her face to my dad’s and back. Her eyes flutter shut. It’s the condensation of her breath on her mask that keeps me from freaking.

  This has happened before. It scares the crap out of me each and every time.

  “Is she okay?” Sydney asks, her voice shaking.

  I don’t let go of my mom’s hand but I turn back to look at Sydney. “She’s still breathing but we should probably go so she can rest.”

  She nods, setting her drink on the table next to the bed before closing the photo album and doing the same with it.

  Bending, I press my lips to my mom’s cheek. “I love you.”

  She doesn’t answer.

  I press another kiss to her hand before letting her go. Sydney is quiet as I push her from the den.

  It’s not until we reach the front door that she says, “Are you sure we should leave?”

  Her question makes sense. That coughing fit would scare most people. She must think, that my mom, that . . . I can’t finish the thought.

  “We’ll talk in the car,” I reply.

  Once we’re on the road, I start, “Are you alright with staying at my place without me for a few days?”

  Her head snaps my way. “What? Why?”

  “To be close in case . . . in case my dad needs me.”

  I face forward, only gauging her reaction from my peripheral. She holds the part of her seatbelt that crosses her chest and looks away.

  “I wouldn’t feel right sleeping at your place without you.”

  The car in front of me brakes suddenly so I have to slam on my brakes to avoid rear-ending them. My right hand shoots out to protect Sydney.

  “Asshole,” I mutter as the car turns left. “Next time use your blinker.”

  I lower my arm as I press the gas but glance at Sydney when I hear her giggle. “What?”

  “You just mom armed me.” She laughs.

  “I what?”

  “You know, moved your arm to keep me from jerking forward when you braked.”

  “Okay?”

  She shifts in her seat, her laughter gone. “It was cute. That’s all.”

  “I’d never let anything happen to you,” I reply.

  “I think I should go to my grandparents,” she blurts.

  “But the front steps,” I argue.

  She shakes her head. “If my casts come off tomorrow, I should be able to manage them on my own if I go slowly.”

  I make the turn into the parking lot of my building. Once I’m in my spot, I kill the engine and lean forward to press my forehead to the steering wheel.

  “Heath?” Sydney murmurs.

  I leave my head on the wheel but turn my face toward her. “Can you please just stay at my place?”

  She shifts her body toward me, her expression guarded. “Why?”

  I close my eyes and breathe in. “If you’re here, then I can come right to you after . . .”

  She gasps, then says, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  I look at her. “Thank you.”

  She nods.

  Pushing up, I unhook my belt and climb out. It’s not until I’m pulling her wheelchair out that it hits me how much her staying here for me means to me. It means, no matter what time of night, if my mom passes away overnight, that I’ll be able to come to her.

  I know that I’ll need her. She will be the only person who’ll be able to comfort me.

  I unfold her chair and push it over toward her door. She’s already opened it, and is standing on her good leg as I approach. Normally, she turns her back to me, so all she has to do is sit once
I’m close enough.

  Not this time. She faces me and motions for me to stand in front of her. Then, she reaches up with her good hand and grabs my neck, pulling me down to her waiting lips.

  My hands go to her hips, half to help support her, half to hold on for dear life.

  She speaks against my lips, not breaking our kiss. “Whatever you need.”

  My hands move so that my arms circle her, pressing up against her, half lifting her so she won’t accidently put pressure on her leg.

  Rationally, I get that one day probably won’t make a difference between her bones being healed or not. I’m not going to push her to move faster than she’s ready but, once those casts come off, things I took for granted will be possible again. Things like walking down the street being able to hold her hand, and tangling my legs with hers when we sleep.

  She’s knocked me on accident with her casts plenty and they hurt. I miss the way she used to dress, not that she isn’t gorgeous in whatever she wears. I’m just partial to those dresses.

  “That means a lot to me,” I reply, still kissing her.

  A throat clears behind us, but I ignore it. It’s not until I hear Jake say, “It looks like they made up,” that I lift my head to glare in his direction.

  Kacey is tucked in the curve of his arm as she, with a cringe, waves hello.

  “Reilly told us she stopped by to visit Sydney. Now that we know she’s good with having visitors, it’s our turn,” Jake says as they make their way over to us.

  “We brought brownies,” Kacey adds, lifting a plastic container.

  I move my lips to Sydney’s ear. “Want me to get rid of them?”

  She shakes her head. With effort, I step away from her, keeping my hand on her hip to steady her as I turn her wheelchair. Gracefully, she sinks into it.

  “Are you sure you’re up for a visit?” Kacey asks Sydney.

  “Of course. It’s so sweet of you both to come see me,” she replies.

  Mr. Fairlane is opening the door for us as we approach, making me wonder if he saw us kissing earlier. “I thought you kids would be gone longer.”

  “My mom fell asleep,” I explain, oversimplifying and downplaying what happened.

  Once we’re all inside, I glance at my watch. I need to leave in ten minutes to get back to work so, as much as I hate to admit it, Jake and Kacey had decent timing, showing up when they did.

  Mr. Fairlane reclaims his favorite spot on the sofa but turns off the TV. Jake and Kacey move in to sit next to him while I angle Sydney’s chair off to one side, facing them.

  “Can I get any of you something to drink?” I ask, moving toward the kitchen.

  A chorus of, “No thanks,” follows me.

  Since we didn’t have a chance to eat lunch at my parents’ house, I mix up a protein drink for Sydney and one for myself.

  I know her well enough not to believe her if she says she isn’t hungry. She just doesn’t want to put me out. Hopefully, since I’m making one for myself, it won’t annoy her that I made her a drink.

  Once they’re made, I set it on the coffee table in front of her. “Apple cinnamon.”

  Her face gets soft. “You didn’t have to.”

  I squeeze the back of her neck. “I know.”

  Then I grab my drink and pull out a chair from my dining room table and set it next to her. Her eyes are on me as she takes a drink.

  With all the running around I’ve been doing, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen Jake or Kacey. Their interruption annoyed me at first but now that that they’re here, I have to admit I’ve missed them.

  Jake calls me so it’s not like we haven’t talked. In fact, he calls me more than anyone else. I think he’s still getting used to always having a phone signal so he’s trying not to waste it.

  Kacey will send me the odd text but things haven’t gone back to how they were before our broken engagement. Sydney wasn’t the only relationship I screwed up with asking her to marry me.

  Now, seeing Jake and Kacey sitting side-by-side, I question my own sanity for trying to stay engaged for as long as I did. They fit in a way we never would have.

  “How’s the Bryant remodel going?” I ask Jake.

  “Stupid mess up with the flooring order put us behind schedule. We had to send everything they shipped back because it was wrong. Now we have to wait for the new order to come in.”

  “Oh, man.” I grimace. “Are they pissed?”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, but not with us. Mr. Bryant is related to someone who got him a discount on the flooring. That guy is the one who screwed up.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t bumped another project up in the meantime,” Sydney replies.

  He shrugs and then glances down at Kacey. “I’m going to start on a back deck on a house a couple of streets over from your parents’ place tomorrow. Kacey was off from work today so we decided to spend it together.”

  “Speaking of work,” I murmur, leaning over to kiss Sydney’s cheek. “I need to get back.”

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Jake says, standing as well.

  “Don’t eat all the brownies,” I joke with Mr. Fairlane before looking toward Sydney. “I’ll be here at four thirty to take you to therapy.”

  She surprises me by tilting her face up for a kiss, an offer I do not refuse. When my lips touch hers, I mentally curse any minute I’ll spend away from her.

  Jake holds the door open for me. Once it’s closed behind us, he says, “I’m happy you were able to work things out with Sydney. She’s good people.”

  I don’t mince words. “I’m in love with her.”

  He nods. “I figured as much when you started driving up to the hospital every day to see her.”

  He stands in front of my car while I move to open my door. “Have you told her?”

  I shake my head. “I’m trying not to scare her off.”

  Jake glances back at my apartment, like he’s somehow gained the power to see through walls. When he looks back at me, he says, “I’m not sure that it would.”

  I shrug. “I don’t want her to think we’re rushing into anything. She wants to take things slowly. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I gotta get back to work.”

  He nods. “With everything that went down between the two of you, I wanted to give you a head’s up that I’m going to ask Kacey to marry me.”

  This right here is an example of why I couldn’t stay pissed at Jake when Kacey chose him over me. We weren’t in love, he gets that, but still doesn’t want me to be blindsided by his news.

  I move out from my doorway to give him a hug. “I’m happy for you both.” Once I pull away, I go on, “Let me know when she says yes so I can buy you both a drink.”

  He wets his lips and blinks, emotion clearly getting to him. He then clears his throat, nods and says, “Thank you.”

  I lift my boot and grin at it. It’s hideous, seriously not designed to be attractive whatsoever. That doesn’t stop me from being completely in love with it.

  Today my casts came off, even the one on my arm which was unexpected. My orthopedic is being overly cautious about my ankle so I’ve graduated from my cast to this boot.

  It’s gray. It’s a bummer that I have to wear it but it is so much better than my cast. Also, no more wheelchair. I now have a cane. It’s way cooler than the boot. I can’t wait to shake it at neighborhood kids, not that I ever see neighborhood kids. They come to the diner but are usually well behaved there. Heath’s building seems to only attract single people so I haven’t bumped into any kids there either.

  I’ll just have to shake it at Pops; he’ll get a kick out of that. No matter what, this boot and cane represent my freedom. As much as I appreciate everything Heath and my grandparents have done for me, I’m over being taken care of.

  I get to go back to Heath’s place and take an actual, nothing in my way, bath. As much of a pain in the ass it can be, I’ve been fantasizing about shaving my legs, and scratching them.

 
I might spend my entire bath gently scratching every part of me that was covered in a cast. Then I’m going to rub lotion all over my smooth, itch-free skin. I can’t wait.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep any of them?” Gigi asks, glancing at my mountain of discarded casts.

  “Don’t be a hoarder, Gigi.”

  She shrugs, trying to hide her annoyance. She’s a saver. In a drawer of her jewelry box is a little plastic bag of my dad’s baby teeth. Apparently, when I was a baby, she got in a huge fight with my mom when she found out my mom didn’t save mine.

  That’s why she still has my dad’s teeth. She doesn’t trust my mom with them.

  None of these casts will fit in a drawer of her jewelry box so she’s out of luck.

  It’s not until we’re in Gigi’s car that I ask the question that’s been on my mind. “When can I come back to work?”

  “You can’t work with a cane,” she argues.

  Carrying food and drinks would be complicated but I think I could do it. I don’t argue that point because she’s more stubborn than I and will only dig her heels in if I do.

  “I could work the office. If you would have let me, I could have done some of that stuff from my wheelchair.”

  She shakes her head. “The chair never would have fit in there.”

  That’s a valid point. Heath’s closet was bigger than the back office of the diner.

  “But,” she continues, “I don’t have a problem with you taking the schedule and payroll back over, as long as you promise not to overdo it.”

  I glance out my window and smile to myself. Being idle was not something I was comfortable with. If I wasn’t terrified of reinjuring myself, I would have been out of that chair weeks ago.

  Pops made a good watchdog. Hanging out with him made my days bearable. Since Gigi and I work together at the diner our relationship has always been close. Not that Pops and I weren’t close. I’ll always be the little girl he never had. He dotes on me. Seeing how happy it made him to keep an eye on me reminded me to set aside time for him. That’s not something I ever thought about.