Page 69 of Tell Me Lies

When I came down here, I assumed I was going to find out that she was secretly a superfan or some shit and that she’d planned for us to meet and for her to be my kid’s nanny. That was the only answer I could come up with as to why she’d met my daughter on the day she was born. But then I learned the truth.

And I think the truth might be even worse.

My stomach churns, and my head feels like I’ve been spinning in circles for an hour without stopping as I let my brain digest the realization that Amelia and Maci are connected further back than when she became her nanny.

I knew whatever she needed to tell me was bad, but this … this is unimaginable. My most important job in my life is—and will always be—protecting my daughter. And yet I’ve put someone directly in her life who is tied to her mother’s death in a way I never imagined.

It wasn’t Maci’s fault, no. But when Amelia is old enough to figure out what happened to her mother, will she understand that? And then there’s the other side of shit, the one where … I have to wonder if Maci connected the dots sooner than she’s saying she did.

Being a professional athlete has made it hard for me to trust people or look for the good in their intentions. I thought I knew Maci better than this. What if I don’t?

When she returns, she’s blotting her eyes with a paper towel. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I should have told you sooner. But …”

“I told you not to,” I say, guessing the rest of her words.

“Well, kind of,” she squeaks, her eyes shifting to the table, ashamed. “And it just never felt like the right time.”

Her lip trembles, and I notice the red streaks covering her chest and neck.

“By the time I learned who Amelia was … and figured it all out, I was so attached.” She lifts her broken gaze to me. “To her and to you.”

She reaches for my hand, but before I even realize what I’m doing, I pull back, tucking it under the table as my knee bounces up and down. Everything feels like a lie, even though she didn’t really betray me. I don’t know where this leaves us.

I don’t have a clue what the fuck this means.

“I have to get back to Amy,” I mutter, not looking her in the eye as I slide from the booth and head toward the exit.

I need to get away from her. It feels like the walls are closing in and I can’t move quickly enough.

Someone who has been my escape is turning into my demise.

“Logan,” she cries, walking behind me as I head into the hallway.

I thank fucking God that no one is around to see because the tabloids would have a fucking field day with this.

“Please, just … wait.” She sounds panicked. “Please!”

I push open the door into the stairwell, not wanting to waste my time with the elevator, and that’s when she rushes around me, attempting to block me from going any further.

“Please, Logan.” She’s hysterical now. “Don’t walk away. I need you to know how sorry I am. I … wanted to tell you right when I learned the truth—”

“Then, why didn’t you? When we were lying in bed, naked, and I fucking spilled my guts to you”—I glare at her—“you fucking knew the truth, and you lied to me when I asked if everything was okay. You told me you were fucking tired.”

“I know,” she utters, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. “I was scared.”

“Ofwhat?” I growl.

“Of losing you!” she cries out. “Of losing the closest thing to a family of my own!”

I stare at her for a moment, anger searing through every bit of my body. But the stupid thing is, I don’t think I’m even angry with her; instead, I’m angry with the universe for fucking everything up for us.

“Well, guess what.” I lean closer, my chest heaving. “You just fucking lost us, Boston. Congratulations.”

The hurt covers her entire face, almost as if I slapped her. Her shoulders sink just before she grabs a fistful of my shirt to keep me close.

“I promise you, you could never hate me more than I hate myself, Logan.” The words come out as a tortured croak, softening my hardened shell, but only a little. “That day hashaunted me every single minute since I lived it. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life too.”

Taking her hand, I push it away from me before stepping around her. “Leave, Maci. I don’t want you here,” I growl lowly and walk up the stairs, never looking back.

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