Page 38 of Loving the Liar

“Hey, trouble.” I sigh with relief as I lift her up and let her wrap her entire body around me. “Damn, you’re getting heavier.”

“Or are you getting weaker?” she giggles as she drops back on the floor, pressing my biceps. “Hm, definitely getting weaker.”

I chuckle, messing with her blonde hair. Juliette looks nothing like me because we’re not blood related. My parents adopted her after she was freed from a human trafficker. From a criminal organization, to be precise. She was nine then. She’s thirteen now.

She was held with the same people who stole two years of Rose’s life. When she brought Juliette to us, begging us not to send her back to the same broken system Rose had been through as a child, my parents adopted her. I think that’s when my dad started resenting the Circle. He used to protect the men who went to the parties Gerald Baker held, but the minute we started taking care of Juliette, he grew a conscience.

Becoming a better man almost cost him his life, and he now lies in a hospital bed, too sick to even breathe on his own. Sometimes, the Circle has ways to punish a traitor that are more painful than death.

“Mom’s making chili,” Juliette sing-songs as she dances her way back to the kitchen island where her homework is spread out.

Every time she’s happy about something, my chest warms. The mere fact that she now has a favorite dish is a huge change from when she first started living here. She was taken at such a young age that she knew nothing of her own taste. All she knew was survival.

My mom turns around from the stove to hug me tightly. In the last couple of weeks, she’s lost weight and gained eye bags, and her smile has been replaced by a constant frown of despair. She’s much smaller than me, and I can rest my head on top of hers as she buries herself in my chest.

“Chris.” I can barely hear her broken voice.

“Hey, Mom,” I murmur against her hair. “How are you feeling?”

Shaking her head against me, she refuses to answer. She doesn’t want to tell me she’s barely holding on, but she also doesn’t want to lie.

“I got a C in math!” Juliette calls from behind me as if announcing the best grade ever.

My mom laughs softly before turning back to the stove. We grew up with the kind of money that means we have staff around the house. But my mom always insisted that if my dad and her weren’t traveling, we would all eat her homemade food together as a family.

I grab some chips from the open bag on the kitchen counter and sit opposite Juliette. “I’m sorry, are we expected to celebrate that?” I say mockingly.

“Hey! It’s better than a C-minus. I’m getting better.”

I square my shoulders, tilting my chin up. “I was almost valedictorian. We’re not even competing in the same category.”

“Almost being the key word.” She giggles to herself, and I throw a chip at her.

“Mom! Chris is acting like a child.”

When I stick out my tongue, she bursts into her weird, cackly laugh before throwing the chip back at me.

My mom isn’t very chatty while we eat, but as soon as Juliette goes upstairs to get ready for bed, she asks what she’s been dying to.

“How’s Megan?” Her eyes stay focused on the plates she’s rinsing and passing to me as I put them in the dishwasher.

I huff, running a hand behind my tense neck and messing the hair at the back of my head. “How’s Dad?” I counter, then grab the next plate.

Her voice thins when she tries to answer. “He’s still hooked to the breathing machine, but he’s stable.”

“Then Megan’s great. Lovely.”

“But she’s not lovely,” my mom whispers. “She’s horrible to you. I know she is.”

I put the last plate away and turn to her. Putting my hands on her cheeks, I force her to look up at me.

“As long as Dad is fine, I’m fine. I promise you.”

She looks down, and her eyes are full of tears when she looks back up. She’s so pale. A ghost stuck with us mortals. She’s suffering deep down in her soul.

“I saw what she did, Chris. Last week when you came for dinner. She slapped you when you were sitting in the car before coming in. What she did, it’s…it’s abusive.”

I roll my eyes, letting go of her so she doesn’t feel how cold my hands get when I talk about the woman I’m stuck with.

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