The Truth in My Lies Read online

  I opened up the door and it was as if I had conjured him to life. I blinked. No, he was really there. Ben. I placed my hand on the doorframe to steady myself.

  “Addy, where are your crutches?”

  Addy. I held back a sigh. How many times had he groaned my name in my dreams last night? How many times had he whispered in my ear? Or kissed my lips? God, he had just asked me a question. What had he said?

  “Addy?”

  The daydreams disintegrated as I saw a group of women walking in the distance. The gawkers I called them. Catty women who never took the time to get to know me. Gossiping witches. And they were coming this way.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  He lowered his eyebrows in the sexiest way possible. God, I didn’t have time for him to look sexy right now. They were coming!

  “I promised you lunch.” He held up the takeout bag in his hand.

  The aroma made me drool. It smelled like everything I never ate. Greasy, delicious fries were most likely in that bag. My stomach growled. “And I told you not to come!”

  He smiled out of the corner of his mouth like I was amusing to him. “And I decided not to listen.”

  He wasn’t supposed to come back. He wasn’t supposed to be this sweet. He wasn’t supposed to ever be more than a daydream. My eyes darted back to the women. They were drawing closer. They were probably already staring at us. Talking. No.

  I grabbed the front of Ben’s t-shirt and pulled him into the house. His chest collided with mine and he had to grab my back so that we both didn’t topple to the floor.

  The aroma of grass and all things manly filled my nose, making me pause in the middle of my plan to hide him. We stayed pressed together with the door hanging open for the whole neighborhood to see. A public display I couldn’t bother to care about when I was in his arms.

  “Well, hello to you too,” he said and tilted his head down to look at me.

  His ocean blue eyes were so gorgeous that it almost hurt to stare at them. If I stood on my tiptoes, our lips would only be a fraction of an inch apart. What the hell am I doing right now? I let go of his shirt and slammed the door shut.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” I said as I hopped back into the living room and pushed the curtains to the side. The gawkers were walking past. One of the women turned toward the house and I quickly drew the curtains closed. This isn’t happening. I could already hear the rumors. The damage was already done.

  “Addy?”

  I turned to stare at him. He had clearly asked me a question and I hadn’t been paying attention again.

  “If you don’t tell me where your crutches are, I swear I’m going to carry you to the kitchen.”

  I laughed.

  The foyer was dark, but his smile could light up any room. The realization that he was in my house again made me bite the inside of my lip. What was I supposed to do with him?

  I eyed the bag in his hand. Right. Eat. I held my head up high. “I don’t need crutches or for you to carry me.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  I waited for him to move out of my way. I didn’t need him, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to stare at me hopping around on one foot.

  “Well…the kitchen is that way.” I pointed behind him.

  “I want to make sure you don’t fall,” he said and waited for me to pass.

  God he was infuriating. “We’ve already had this conversation. I’m not 80 years old.” I hopped past him as fast as I could manage.

  He grabbed me around the waist as I passed him, and lifted me up so that my back was flush with his chest.

  “Put me down!” I squirmed underneath his grip as my feet hovered off the ground.

  He laughed in my ear. The feeling of his warm breath and the sound of his amusement made me want to sigh. Instead, I said, “I’m not a child either!” with much less force. Really, I didn’t want him to stop holding me.

  We reached the kitchen far too soon and he released me as soon as my good foot hit the tile.

  His hand slid off my waist and he walked into the kitchen, completely ignoring my outburst. He set down the takeout bag on the kitchen table and started opening up drawers and cabinets.

  “Excuse me,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. What did he think he was doing?

  “You’re excused.” He opened up another cabinet. “Aha.” He pulled out two plates and set them down on the counter.

  “Would you stop rummaging through my things?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Would you sit down?”

  I glared at him.

  He gave me a similar look back before continuing to open up drawers.

  I sighed and sat down.

  “All set,” he said and placed a plate and utensils down in front of me. “Want something to drink?”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk again?”

  He raised his left eyebrow. “It’s barely noon, woman. What are you trying to do to me?”

  Unspeakable things. I laughed. “The glasses are in the cabinet on the far left. And there’s a Brita pitcher in the fridge.”

  “Two glasses of water coming right up. We can save the hard liquor for later.”

  Later? “How long are you planning on staying?”

  He poured the water without answering me.

  “Ben, I have a million things to do.” Such a statement was always an exaggeration. But to me it was especially so. I had absolutely nothing to do.

  “What things can you possibly achieve when you can’t walk? Snort cocaine?” He sat down next to me in the only other seat and opened up the bag like what he had just said wasn’t at all odd.

  “Excuse me? I’m not going to do drugs with you. I don’t know what kind of illegal things 23 year olds do, but I…”

  “I saw the powder in your sink.” He pulled out a wrapped sandwich and placed it on my plate without looking at me.

  Powder? I looked over at the sink. Oh, God. “No, that’s not…” my voice trailed off. Technically, I had tossed a bunch of drugs down the garbage disposal yesterday. Some of the grindings must have still been in the sink.

  “It would explain why you’re so fidgety.”

  “I don’t do illegal drugs. And I’m not fidgety.” I willed my knee to stop bouncing. He made me nervous, that was all.

  “So…prescription drugs then?”

  “No actually. Not anymore.” I thought about the one prescription that I hid in the pantry. The one I’d never stop taking.

  “What did you used to take then?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Well, what were they for?”

  “What, you want a list of my problems? How dare you barge in here and be…be… so demanding.”

  He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “Doll, you literally pulled me inside your home. And I’m not being demanding, I’m just making conversation.”

  Doll. My mind seemed to focus on the most random parts of his sentences.

  “But I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. Forget that I asked. He pulled out the other sandwich, unwrapped it, and then dumped some fries on my plate.

  “How would you feel if I asked you what prescriptions you took?” I unwrapped my sandwich and tried to ignore him.

  “I’d tell you that I don’t take any.”

  “Just illegal ones then?”

  He laughed. “No. My only vice is the occasional drink with a beautiful woman.”

  I stared down at the burger I had just unwrapped. It was topped with crunchy onion straws and there was a delicious looking sauce dripping down the sides. He had called me beautiful. Yet, I couldn’t look up at him. I didn’t want to know if he was being patronizing or serious. So instead of looking, I pushed the utensils to the side, lifted up the burger, and took a huge bite.

  “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

  “What?” I said with my mouth still full.

  He laughed. “The last date I went on,
the girl ordered a salad and only ate half.”

  “If that’s a challenge to see if I can eat this whole thing, you’re on.” I swallowed the bite still in my mouth. “I slept for 24 hours straight. I’m starving.”

  “Twenty four hours? Was meeting me really that exhausting?”

  “Excruciatingly so.” This burger was everything delicious in the world. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten a burger. Or red meat. Or fries. I started to shovel those in my mouth as well without even realizing what I was doing.

  Ben laughed.

  I looked up at him mid-chew and realized I must look like a starving animal. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Please don’t stare at me while I eat, it makes me nervous.”

  “Please? Did you really just say please? I think that was the first nice thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

  “Do you even know how to give a compliment?” He smiled as if he had me right where he wanted me.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me hear one.” He leaned forward slightly as he waited.

  “It’s not a compliment if you have to beg for it.”

  “It doesn’t have to be about me. I just brought you lunch. You could thank me for that.”

  “But I asked you not to bring it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I think you just proved me right.”

  I didn’t want him to think I hated him when it was so fiercely untrue. “You look very nice today. Cleaner than yesterday.”

  He laughed. “The first half of that was a compliment. The second half was an insult.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being dirty,” I said and picked up a fry.

  I thought maybe I imagined it yesterday. But I don’t think I had. Because his Adam’s apple had just risen and fallen again. The action made me press my thighs together.

  “No, there’s definitely nothing wrong with being dirty,” he said.

  I bit the inside of my lip. How long did he say he was staying? I had a feeling that as time ticked by I’d have a harder and harder time keeping my hands to myself.

  Chapter 8

  I squeezed the excess water out of my hair before wrapping a towel around myself. I was terribly out of practice with flirting. Somehow our conversation had taken a quick turn to the fact that I was actually dirty. The sexual innuendo evaporated completely when I had started talking about my greasy hair.

  But the tension in the air hadn’t gone away. It still swirled around me even though he was all the way downstairs. Doing who knows what in my house.

  Just the thought made me hurry. I combed out the knots in my hair and applied a little too much makeup for a day at home. I pushed my bangs aside to see the bruise that Ben had pointed out yesterday. It was almost invisible under my foundation, but I added a little concealer just in case. In a few days, it would be gone completely and I wouldn’t have to worry. But until then, Ben was asking invasive questions. And I was starting to wonder why. Was it really because he liked me? He was seven years younger than me. What could he possibly want from me that he couldn’t get from someone his own age?

  Was a seven year age gap enough for me to be considered a cougar? Just the thought made me feel nauseous. I wasn’t one of those women. And it wasn’t like I was going to act on my desire. I couldn’t afford to act on my desires. I positioned my bangs back in place and hopped into my bedroom. Yoga pants and a tank top seemed like the easiest clothes to crawl around in. And take off. Stop it!

  For some reason, I still pulled on a red lacy thong and matching bra. Just in case. Not that anything was going to happen. Geez, he was 23. He was too young. Too nice. Too naïve for…me. I caught my reflection in the mirror. So why did I put on so much mascara?

  I turned away from the mirror. It was easy to picture this house being a home. Was that what I wanted? To feel loved again? To feel whole? I blinked quickly so that my mascara wouldn’t start to run. None of that mattered. Ben could be my friend. Nothing more. I wasn’t even sure why I let my mind wander.

  I opened up the door and sat down on the stairs. My pride wouldn’t let me call for him. Or maybe it was just that if I was in his arms again I’d lose all self-control. I scooted down the stairs a step at a time.

  My legs were in good shape from running. But having to slowly hoist myself down each step made the muscles in my arms burn. I needed to add strength training to my workouts.

  A deep chuckle made me look up. Ben was standing at the foot of the stairs with his arms folded across his chest. The amused look on his face made me press my lips together.

  I wanted him. I wanted him desperately. That was why I threw insults his way. It was easier than admitting that I couldn’t have what I wanted. I needed him to become something I didn’t crave. “Would you stop staring at me? You don’t need to be here.” I swallowed down the groan in my throat as I moved down another stair.

  “Why is it so hard for you to ask for help?”

  Because asking comes with dire consequences. “I’m used to doing things on my own. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “So…you don’t want me to carry you down the rest of the stairs?”

  “No.”

  Ow. My butt hit one of the wooden steps hard when one of my hands slipped. I looked down at my hurt palm. I had forgotten to put a new Band-Aid on it. I tried to calculate how hard it would be to move back up the stairs.

  “Addy, I’m offering to help you.”

  “And I’m telling you I don’t need it.”

  “Here I thought that you’d be more chipper after a hot shower.”

  “You try balancing on one foot on slippery tile. This isn’t exactly fun for me.”

  “How about you let me help you out until you’re back on your feet?”

  I stared down at my ankle. How long would that be? Why on earth was I even considering it? “Don’t you have places to be? Things to landscape?”

  He laughed. “If you haven’t noticed, fall is here. Fall and winter are my down seasons. I can make it work.”

  Yesterday I was worried I’d never see him again. The thought had terrified me. Thursdays had always been the days I looked forward to. He was offering to be here…what…every day? For a few weeks? I needed to send him away. But it was hard. I wanted him here. I wanted to believe that this thing between us could actually be real.

  “Let me help you.” His voice was gentle.

  And for some reason it brought tears to the corners of my eyes. I blinked to rid the pools that threatened to fall. “It’s hard to get up and down the stairs.” I sounded dejected. Small. But maybe just a tiny bit hopeful. What if he was the one that could actually save me from this hell?

  The squeak of the bottom step let me know he was coming. But I didn’t look up. I was scared to fall. Not down the stairs. I wasn’t scared of bumps and bruises. That had never been my problem. I was scared of falling for him when I had no right to fall. Not again.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight as he lifted me into his arms. I thought that not seeing him would make it easier. But maybe that was worse. Feeling. One of his hands had slid slightly underneath my tank top. I could feel his callused hands against the softness of my skin. The contrast made me stifle a sigh in my throat.

  I didn’t open my eyes until he set me back down in one of the kitchen chairs. He had pulled out an ice pack for me. And next to that was a casserole of some sort. How long had I been in the shower?

  Before I could ask him, he lifted up my foot and cradled it in his hand. He wrapped the ice pack around my ankle and let my foot rest on top of his thigh. Any thoughts I had about casseroles came careening to a halt. It felt like I could feel his heartbeat pulsing through my heel. Or maybe it was my own heart racing uncontrollably.

  “Have you been icing this?” he asked as he gingerly rotated the ice pack. “It will heal faster if you ice it.”

  “I fell asleep right after I got home yesterday. But
I iced it before I fell asleep the second time.”

  “Right.” He shifted the ice pack again. “I forgot, you said you slept a whole day straight.”

  There was suddenly an awkwardness in the air. Did he feel it too? His face didn’t show it. But he did look like he was thinking. Where did his mind wander? I wished I could be in his thoughts. I wish I consumed them like he consumed mine.

  He ran the pad of his thumb along the inside of my ankle. “How is the pain level? Did you want some Advil or anything? I could still take you to the doctor if…”

  “No.” Absolutely not. “But Advil might be nice. I have some on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.”

  “Let me go grab it for you.” He placed my foot on the chair he had been sitting in and disappeared down the hall.

  I almost told him where the bathroom was, but then I heard the squeak of the hinge of the medicine cabinet. He must have already looked around while I was in the shower. The thought made my pulse increase even more than his touch. What else had he found? God, why had I let him in my house? I looked down at my ankle. I knew why I welcomed him in. It wasn’t the women walking by on the street. It was because I liked his hands on me. I was playing with fire. I needed to send him home.

  “Got it,” he said. His footsteps sounded in the hall. “Took me a minute. I’m still not used to seeing the new extra strength bottle.”

  “I don’t have extra strength…” my rebuttal died as he handed me the bottle. Weird. I didn’t remember ever picking up extra strength. I liked the candy coating on the outside of the original. I must have bought them on one of my off days. My fingers wandered to the side of my head. No. Not off days. That’s what the doctors would say. It was the medicine they gave me that made me forget. It made me have off days. And now I’d always be on. I felt my face flushing. I’d always be turned on if Ben was around.

  “You must have grabbed these by accident then,” he said. “I can pick you up some of the original if you’d like.”

  “No, no. That’s okay.” He had already done quite enough for me. I took the bottle from him and unscrewed the cap.