Page 47 of How May I Please You

“The diner!” I bellow, my voice like thunder. “You burned that diner down.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you fucking did. I know you did it, so don't you stand there and keep lying just for the sake of lying. Tell me the truth.”

“Evan, I didn't burn the diner down.”

“I swear to fucking—” I close the gap between us and stand directly in front of Journey so that she can see my eyes and know I’m not bluffing. “Listen to me carefully. If you don't tell me the fucking truth right now, and I mean about every lie you have ever told me, I swear I’m walking out of here and never looking back. I have killed for you—risked my life to make sure you were safe and protected. I hung a man from his own ceiling fan to make sure we were both good—to keep us out of prison—and now you can’t even look me in the eye and be honest. Fine. Fucking fine! Say you didn't burn down the diner one more time. Lie to me about one more thing and watch how fast you're right back to living by yourself. Go ahead. Tell me you didn't burn it down.”

Journey’s eyes bounce around the room, looking at everything but me. I hear it when she swallows hard, and see it when she decides to keep the lie up.

“I didn't burn down—”

Before she can even finish, I walk away.

“Evan,” she says as I walk over to the coffee table and grab my keys.

“Evan,” she repeats as I approach the door and try to move her out of the way.

“Evan!” she yells when I gently push her aside and walk through the door she was blocking.

“Evan, please!” she begs as I open the door to my truck and place one foot inside.

“Okay!”

I stop.

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything. Please don't leave. I’ll tell you.”

I pause, one foot on the ground, the other in the truck. “I'm listening.”

Journey lets out a long exhale as her tears finally fall from her eyes. I can see how much she doesn't want to do it, but she has no choice now. If she lies, we’re done, and she knows it.

“Okay,” she repeats. “I burned down the diner. That kid pissed me off, and it was made worse when the manager came out and was upset that the kid quit. He made it sound like I’d cost him a good worker, when Chad was actually an asshole and his business was better off without him. When I felt like he was defending the kid, that was it. I didn't want to hurt a teenager, so I took it out on the diner.”

Shaking my head, I say, “And you thought framing him for arson wouldn't hurt him?”

“He’s a minor. He wouldn't do much time.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Journey. You hear me? Ridiculous, just like the fact that you decided to lie to me about it when you and I have committed worse crimes together. Why did you continue to lie when I gave you so many outs?”

“I don't—” she tries to say, but her words are cut off by sobs. “I don't know. You asked me to let it go and I knew I couldn't. Once I lied about it, I just kept it up. I just … kept lying.”

I nod my head, feeling like this is only the beginning. She just kept lying, huh? There isn't a chance in hell that this is the only thing she has kept from me.

“What else?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“What else have you lied about?”

“Nothi—”

I face the truck and start to sit down.

“I’m the reason Robin quit.”

I freeze again, my eyes wide. “What?”

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