Page 62 of Tell Me Lies

“Amelia won’t understand that though, Poppy,” I whisper. “Once she’s old enough to learn the truth, I’ll just be the woman who was driving the other car on the day her mom died.”

“No, Mace,” she answers sharply. “You’ll be the woman who stuck around and helped raise her. Even despite the pain that brought you.” She gives my hand another squeeze. “I can’t tell you how to have this conversation, but it’s a conversation you need to have sooner rather than later.”

I nod sadly through my tears. “I know,” my voice croaks. “I’m just scared to lose them. To … end our story.”

“You might not,” Poppy whispers back. “It might be just the beginning. Anewbeginning.”

I look up at her, praying that she’s right. But if she isn’t, I wouldn’t blame Logan for wanting to protect his daughter. After all, she is his entire world, and he needs to do right by her, not me.

“I do need to tell him,” I say, my voice hoarse from crying. “Tonight.”

That feeling of worry settles in my gut, making my heart race as I put my hand on Amelia’s forehead.

“You’re burning up, baby girl,” I whisper to her, knowing she won’t respond. She’s too tired for that.

Clyde sits with his huge head perched on the bed, staring at her. He’s gotten in the habit of sleeping in her room everynight. I’m glad that Maci hasn’t moved back to her apartment yet because I don’t think I’m the only one who will be sad. Her dog has fallen in love with Amelia.

An hour ago, we were headed to the park when she fell asleep. It was earlier than her usual naptime, but I didn’t think much of it because she’d woken up a tad earlier than usual this morning. But then, when I came back home and got her out of her seat, her tiny body was on fire. And even though she half woke up, she was so lethargic and not herself that I knew instantly that something wasn’t right.

Maddie was always around to talk me through shit when Amelia was sick. Hell, sometimes, I was away at games when she was home with Amelia, battling the flu, ear infections, or other sicknesses. Something happening to her or her getting sick is always my biggest fear when I head to an away game. I try my best to be a good dad, but when it comes to her getting sick, I freak the fuck out. And I don’t want to bother Maci because she’s at lunch with Poppy. She raises my kid half of the time. The least I can do is leave her alone when she’s taking a few hours off.

I put a pillow next to Amelia’s body to make sure she doesn’t roll off the mattress, though I guess I shouldn’t worry because Clyde is still here, his huge head propped beside her as she sleeps. I head out of her room to get the thermometer in the kitchen. While I’m out here, I grab the Children’s Motrin, too, with the liquid syringe. She fights me on taking medicine, but I hope she’ll just take it today.

Heading back to her room, I slowly sink down on the bed beside her and press the thermometer to her forehead. It feels like it takes minutes before it finally beeps, reading103.2.

“Shit,” I whisper, quickly setting it down on the bed and loading the syringe with the medicine.

Propping her head up, I rub the top of her hair gently. “Amelia, I need you to take some medicine, okay?”

She stirs, squeezing her eyes together to form a scowl and smacking her lips.

“It’s just a little bit, and then you can rest, okay?”

I put the end of the syringe to her lips and put a dab of it into her mouth, hoping she’ll wake up enough to take the rest. Instead, she grows angry in her slumber, pushing it away.

“No, Daddy,” she says and begins to cry for a few seconds before settling down and dozing back off.

I lie down, pulling her against my chest to keep her close to me, all while keeping the medicine in my hand—unsure of how the hell I’m going to force her to take it, but knowing she needs something to get her fever down.

I hear the door open and close, and I know Maci has made it back home. Shit’s been weird ever since the night we spent alone. We’ve had sex since then, sure. But she isn’t herself. She’s acting like she did when she first took this job—only stranger. And I haven’t caught her writing in her office for days either.

I look down at my daughter’s angelic face with her cheek squished against my chest. Her body is so warm, and just then she begins to cough, wheezing a few times.

Whatever this sickness is, it came out of absolutely nowhere.

“Everything all right?” Maci whispers, walking into the room and coming beside me. “I thought I just heard her coughing.”

“She has a fever. One hundred and three,” I mutter, looking up at her. “She needs medicine, but she’s always so difficult about taking it.”

Her eyes shift to my hand, and she reaches for the medicine. “Let me try?”

Letting her take it from my fingers, I nod, scooching up in the bed so that Amelia’s head is up.

“Amelia, sweet girl,” Maci says, dropping to her knees beside the bed and running her fingers through Amelia’s hair. “Wake up, love.”

She begins to fuss, wiggling around in my arms and crying. And then her crying turns to coughing, and she sits up in my arms, shoving Maci’s hand away. “No, I don’t want it.”

Maci doesn’t give up. Instead, she puts her hand on Amelia’s back and rubs small circles. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. I know you don’t feel very good, and I promise … this will help, okay?”

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