Page 39 of Tell Me No Lies

I don’t let her take another step. Scooping Piper up bridal style, I carry her through the house and into what will eventually be my dining room. I had to relocate my kitchen station—along with the sofa and television from the family room—while I hung drywall in that room, so for the time being, the dining room holds it all.

I carefully set her onto the sofa before shifting the lever at the side to lift her legs. “You need to stay off it as much as you can.”

When Piper’s settled, I go to the corner housing my fridge, microwave, and other countertop appliances, along with the sink I rigged up using the backside of the pipes feeding the kitchen. “I’ll order a counter height chair for you to use at the front desk when we get back.”

“When do you think we’ll be back?” Piper’s lingering uncertainty is obvious. If not to her, definitely to me.

“Not sure.” On one hand I’m hoping this trip will be quick. I want to get in and out without spending too much time in a world I left behind. On the other hand, I’ll have Piper all to myself. At my side, pretending to be my wife. Sleeping beside me at night.

Hopefully in that same shirt.

My fridge is pretty bare—another thing I’m planning to change—but I do have the basics. I grab a few slices of packaged cheese, the tub of margarine, and what’s left of my bread, carrying it to the griddle plugged into a power strip that’s plugged into an extension cord.

“If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to touch base with the women right away and set up a plan to get them the hell out of there.” I slather four slices of bread with margarine and sandwich them around the cheese. Leaving them to cook, I pull out the same ice packs I put on Piper’s leg after the show last week. “If we’re not lucky, we’ll have to hunt them down and risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

After grabbing a coke from the fridge, I toss a dish towel over my shoulder and carry the ice packs to where she sits, offering her the drink before working the brace off her foot. I frown down at her creased skin, looking at her other ankle to confirm what I’m seeing. “It’s swollen.”

“That happens some days. Especially when I’ve been busy and haven’t sat down much.” She stiffens when I drape the towel over her ankle then settle the cold packs on top of it. “Shit that’s cold.”

Knowing I’m partly responsible for Piper’s condition has my molars grinding together. “You should have told me. I would have—”

“It’s fine.” Piper tries to pull her leg away, but my grip on her calf is tight. “Seriously. I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a little swelling. It’ll be back to normal by morning.”

“So all the swelling and pain will be magically gone overnight?” I know she’s full of shit and I want to hear her admit it. I want her to know she can tell me anything. That I will help with all of it.

That I already see it anyway.

“Why does it matter?” She tries to scoot away, still attempting to wrestle free of my hold.

“Because you need to take care of yourself, Piper. If you keep pushing yourself like this it’s never going to heal.” I know she’s stubborn, but she’s also independent. “And it could get worse. Then you’ll be back where you started. Needing someone to help you with everything.”

I saw how much she hated that. How pissed she was when someone had to carry her plate at family dinner or help her get up and down from the couch. Maybe the fear of going back to that time will be enough to get her to take care of herself.

Or let me do it for her.

Piper’s eyes flash wide. “Like hell.”

The scent of browning bread forces me to get up. “Then leave the ice on there and just fucking relax.” I barely make it to our sandwiches in time, flipping them right before they move from toasted to burnt. “I know you don’t like it, but we all have to do shit we don’t want to do sometimes.”

“Is that why you’ve been working on finishing your house?” Her question is almost challenging. Like she thinks she already knows the answer but wants to hear me say it.

So I do. “No. That’s not why I’m working on my house.”

I move to the fridge, buying myself a little more time, because I know what will happen when I tell her the real reason I've been working so hard.

Everything will change.

But hasn't it already? Haven't I already thrown away all my ethics—all my rules—for her? How much worse can it get if Piper finds out she's the reason I'm doing this too?

I sift through the handful of containers on the top shelf before retrieving the one I want. Popping off the lid, I stir around the pasta salad one of the mechanics made and add a serving to each of our plates. I can almost feel Piper's energy shift behind me. I know what she's going to ask and I know when she's going to ask it.

"Then why are you finishing it?"

I slide one grilled cheese onto each plate, dropping a fork next to them both before turning to face her, needing to see her reaction. "I'm finishing it because I want you to have somewhere you can be comfortable."

There's no flash of surprise on her face. No shock pinching her pretty features. Because she already knew.

I hand her one of the plates and ease down beside her, leaning to adjust the ice pack on her ankle as she continues staring at me. If she's waiting for me to elaborate, she’ll have to keep waiting. I've already shown her too much tonight, and I'm afraid if I offer any more, her chances of ever making it back next door will be slim to none.

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