Page 52 of Tell Me No Lies

When we reach the double doors leading into the space, I discover I might not actually find out. The room inside is full of only men. There's not a woman in sight, which leads me to believe we will once again be separated. That’s turning out to be pretty fucking inconvenient since we discovered last night when we tried to check in with Christian that the cell-service in this hotel is absolute shit, so my ability to communicate with Tate will be limited.

I start to square my shoulders, preparing to pump myself up for what's coming, but then I remember I’m supposed to look meek and mild. Lifting my chin and straightening my spine will not fall under that umbrella.

Tate's eyes shift from the auditorium to the hallway, finding a second set of double doors open further down. “I don't like this. How will I know if you need me?”

I keep my eyes down and resist the urge to touch him–to soothe him. “It will be fine.”

I hope I'm right. I know I will be fine, but I'm starting to question if Tate will or not. Pretending to be something I’m not, has turned out to be much easier than I expected, but Tate isn't feeling the same. I know he’s struggling, but I don't know how to help, and that’s frustrating the shit out of me. I feel like a good dick sucking might make it better, but he simply won't let it happen. It's almost like he's punishing—

My eyes lift to his face as realization dawns. Tate is punishing himself. He's punishing himself for shit he hasn't even done. Proving he will never be like them.

I almost smile at this major discovery and can’t wait to confront him with it. Convince him he’s being stupid. But when I lift my eyes, the worry and anger on Tate’s face steals my temporary joy.

“I'll be fine. Really.” I wrack my brain, trying to come up with a way I can communicate with him, but nothing reasonable comes to mind.

Unreasonable, though… Now, that I'm great at.

“How about, if I need you—really need you— I'll pull the fire alarm.”

A little of the misery in his expression dissipates, and one side of his mouth quirks. “Are you also going to set a fire so it's a legitimate alarm?”

I lift one shoulder. “I guess it depends on the situation.”

Even more of his discontent filters away. “As much as I hope you don't need me, I would love to see this whole thing get fucked up by a fire drill.”

I back away, because if I don't go now, people will start to question why we’re lingering together when everyone else is separating. “I guess we'll see what the good Lord has in his plan then.”

Tate huffs out a quiet laugh. “Be careful.”

I wiggle my brows. “Always.” Then I turn and fall in line with the rest of the women, moving through the second set of open doors to find our room is way less impressive than the auditorium Tate’s in.

Shocker.

Instead of upholstered, graduated seating with armrests, we get metal folding chairs on a flat floor. While the men get a beverage and snack station featuring coffee with a variety of creamers, juices, and Danishes, we get a case of unrefrigerated bottled water.

Awesome.

Luckily, Tate fed me breakfast this morning. And while the scrambled eggs and sausage he cooked up on the griddle aren't sitting perfectly, my belly is full, so I only miss the Danishes a little.

Scanning the setup, I try to decide where I want to sit. I sure as fuck don't want to sit in the front, but sitting in the back doesn't seem like a good idea either. I'm trying to blend in, which means the middle is probably my best bet.

I give my skirt and hair one last smooth-over before going toward the chairs. I notice Lucy’s sitting in the second seat of the row directly in front of me. Like last night, she’s staring at me intensely. Obvious enough that other people will notice. Hoping I can get her to fucking stop, I slide into the seat beside her, and give her sweet smile. Keeping my voice low, I say, “You can't stare at me like that. Someone's going to see and wonder why you’re so focused on me.”

“I didn't know how else to get your attention.” Her eyes shift around as she wrings both hands in her lap. “When can we go?”

“That depends.” I tuck my legs under my seat as a woman sidesteps in front of us, making her way to a chair further down our row. Once she's out of earshot, I turn back to Lucy. “When can you get everyone together?”

Lucy's brows pinch together. “We’re together now.” Her eyes move again, and this time I notice she's not scanning the room like I thought, she's looking pointedly at the two women sitting in front of us and whoever’s at my back.

To avoid being obvious, I try to pretend my chair is having issues, and I reach around to grip the back, like I'm attempting to adjust it. As I do, my eyes fall on the woman behind me. Her already fair skin is so pale I’m a little worried she might pass out. She grips the small palms of the little girls beside her, holding their hands tightly. I know I'm not supposed to be drawing attention to myself, but I can't make myself look away from this mother and her daughters. I knew seeing her would hit me hard, and it has. My throat is tight and my eyes burn. Because I'm so fucking proud of her.

I'm also sad. Maybe a little jealous.

But all of it strengthens my resolve. Makes me even more determined to finish what we started. To get them the fuck out of here so they can live life on their own terms.

I turn back to Lucy. “Do we need to go back to your rooms to get your things?”

Lucy shakes her head at me. “We don't want to take anything with us. We just want to be done.”

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