Page 61 of The Guilty One

“Worried what?”

“Tate came to see me a few days before he disappeared. He kept telling me how if anything went wrong, his life would be ruined. His life. He had the most to lose from all of this coming out.”

I swallow, realizing what he’s implying. Suddenly, my anger at Tate dissipates, and I feel only the need to protect him. To defend him. “You can’t think he’d do this. You can’t think he’d hurt anyone. Not now.”

“I already told you what he’s capable of when he’s cornered. He killed Tatum when his back was turned. In cold blood. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it because we all wish we’d been brave enough to do the same, but just…be careful, okay? Now you know everything. Do with it what you will.” He holds his hands up, finally grabbing his sandwich and taking a bite.

As he chews, I look out the window, processing all I’ve been told. My head is dizzy with the truth of it all, the lies of it all. Nothing about my life is what it seems. I’ve been lied to for years about the most fundamental things. My husband is not who he says he is.

Does that matter? At the end of the day, what matters most? His name or the person I know him to be? The human I know him to be? Can someone fake kindness and love? Could he have been pretending all this time? I know the light behind his eyes. I know the way he cried when he held each of our boys for the first time. The way he chased after them when they learned to ride bikes. I know the man my husband is, but I’ve been lied to so many times, how can I ever trust him again?

My circle that was already so small feels smaller now, laden with liars. Foxes in the henhouse. Mice in my house.

Nothing is what it seems, and I’m the one who has to deal with it. I have to tell Tate what I know, but only if it’s safe. If Aaron is right, if I’m misjudging Tate again, trusting him when I shouldn’t, I could be putting myself in danger by meeting him tonight, even more so if I tell him what I’ve learned.

I’m walking a thin line, and the only person I can trust right now is myself. Problem is, I’ve trusted myself all along, and I’ve been wrong.

What am I going to do with that?

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CELINE

That night, the boys are at my parents’ house, safe and sound, and I’m pacing the floor of the living room, trying to decide if I’ve just made the worst decision of my life.

I contemplated telling my parents everything, but I didn’t. I still don’t know why. Maybe because I didn’t think they’d believe me. Maybe I thought they’d believe I was having a mental breakdown and needed the boys taken away. Or maybe…just maybe, I still want to protect him.

Does that make me a monster or a fool? Even knowing all he’s done, I also know the man he’s been to me. That man isn’t capable of hurting anyone. Not anymore. Maybe that makes me the most gullible fool in the world.

When I spot a pair of headlights driving down the road of our subdivision, my heart races in my chest. There are knives in the kitchen. Lamps all around. A few of the boys’ soccer and T-ball trophies. Heavy objects, but could I use them if I needed to? Would I be willing to hurt him if it came down to it?

A truck pulls into the driveway, and my brain begins to short-circuit as panic races through me. Why did I agree to this? Why didn’t I tell anyone my plan? Why was I so, so stupid?

I think back over the expressions on my in-laws’ faces as they looked at the photo I’d shown them. Their sons. Their sons that they loved and protected. Perhaps now their son is coming to protect them, and more importantly, their secret…from me.

But I would never tell. He has to know that. I would keep his secret with everything in me. I always would have. He only killed because he had to. He took a monster out of this world. I couldn’t hate him for that. I can only sympathize with him and wish he’d trusted me enough to tell me the truth years ago.

A dark figure walks across the porch, and I recognize the shape of his body. It’s the same one that has slipped across our bedroom in the dark after locking the door. The same one that has held me when I cried or when I was sick. The same one I’ve leaned on or snuggled up next to so many times over the last decade.

When his face comes into view in the porch light, tears blur my vision. He’s here. He’s real. He’s alive.

I pull the door open and step back. “Tate…”

I don’t know whether to tell him what I know or keep it in—whether being honest will put me in more danger or if I can reassure him that I will protect his secret with my life, that all is forgiven. That I love him enough to look past all of this.

His eyes are stony and distant as he stares at me. “Are the boys…”

“At my parents’.”

He shuts the door behind him, keeping his distance from me when all I want to do is hold him. “No one else is here?”

The question douses my skin with ice water as I remember Aaron’s warning. My eyes flick toward the door, and I can’t help thinking about the fact that he’s blocking the exit. “No. Just us.” Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He clasps his hands in front of him. “I have so much to explain and probably not a lot of time.”

I nod. “I know.”

He puffs a breath of air through his nose. “I’m sorry about all of this, Celine. I’m sorry I disappeared. I’m sorry about the money. I’m sorry if I ever put you in danger.”

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