Page 68 of Tell Me Lies

“However long it takes is fine,” I say, but before she can turn to leave, I don’t let her. “Judy, um, earlier, when Maci was here … you said you hadn’t seen the three of us since the day Amelia was born.”

Confusion tugs at her brows. “Well, yeah? The brunette with you swung in on the day Amelia was born. I can’t remember her relation to the child, but she said she was a relative and wanted to see how the baby was doing. You know, given the circumstances.” She pauses. “I can’t remember all the details—my memory isn’t what it used to be, dear. I’m sorry.” Her eyebrows pull together. “I’ve been around when hundreds of babies were born. But your daughter’s story is quite unique. I could never forget you all.”

Giving my shoulder another pat, she smiles. “I’ll be back in a few to get that IV started. I promise, she’s going to do great. Your little girl is going to be just fine. She’s been a tough cookie since the day she was born, and this isn’t going to slow her down for long. I know it.”

As she walks away, I lean against the doorframe, dragging my hand over my neck. Because I just learned something.

Maci McKenzie has known me and my daughter for much longer than she ever let on.

And because I’m a professional athlete and a public figure … I don’t know how the fuck to feel about that. Maybe Maci isn’t who I thought she was after all. Maybe she never has been.

But if that’s the case, fuck, she’s a good actress.

I hate when I feel like I’m the last to know something. I’m instantly angry, wishing for answers. But when I really think about it … do I actually want to know the truth?

I’m not even sure at this point.

Sitting up in the chair, I wipe my eyes, realizing I must have fallen asleep. Which is pretty fucking impressive and shows how tired I was because this place smells like disinfectant and has about thirty beeping sounds going off every minute. Oh, and about an hour ago, an old dude walked by our room with his pants down. I saw his saggy nuts, decrepit willy, and wrinkly ass.

Even with the IV in her arm and all the annoying-as-fuck sounds, Amelia sleeps peacefully in the bed. I look at the clock on the wall, taking note that it’s six at night. We’ve now been here for over ten hours.

“Sweetheart, go get you some coffee, would you?” Judy says, walking in. “I’m here for two more hours, and then I’m off for a few days. I need to chart; I can do it in here while she sleeps.” She pulls out the chair near the bed and plops down. “Go on. I’ve got your number in her chart if we need you.” She looks at me from the top of her glasses. “That pretty girl has been in the cafeteria all day. You know, she could have stayed up here.”

Maci is still here? Like … in this building?

I gaze at my daughter once more before finally standing up. “Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

“I’m positive.” She smiles. “Go stretch your legs, Dad. It’s going to be a marathon, not a sprint. You need to take breaks every now and then.”

Most of me really doesn’t want to leave my kid while she’s lying in a hospital bed with an IV in her tiny body, which isprobably a few pounds lighter than it was a few days ago. But I also know that until I figure out what the fuck is going on with Maci, it’s going to drive me crazy, and I’ll expect the absolute worst.

Leaning forward, I kiss Amelia’s head and head toward the door. “Thank you,” I say, looking at Judy. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Right now might not be the best timing, but Maci McKenzie is going to tell me what the fuck is going on. Because I’m tired and I’m done playing games.

I find Maci in a corner booth in the cafeteria with a nearly full coffee in front of her, which doesn’t look fresh, and bags under her eyes, which make her look like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Talk,” I say, sitting down across from her. “Tell me everything. And don’t lie.”

Her face falls as she takes me in, but slowly, she nods. “Okay.”

The hardest thing about hearing something that will change everything is staying silent and listening to the entire story when all you want to do is make it stop. Because you don’t want things to change.

Idon’t want things to change.

But now, here I sit, subject to hearing it all.

“You know my dad died in a car accident, but you don’t know the whole truth about that day.” Tears stream down her face, and her voice barely croaks out each word, almost like each sentence hurts to come out. “My dad wasn’t the only person who died that day, Logan.” Her lip trembles, and her face is pale with hardly any color. “Cassandra—Amelia’s mom … she died too.”

The words hit me like a punch straight to the chest, making me realize that ignorance truly is bliss sometimes. “Wh-what?”

Covering her face with her hands, she visibly shakes. “The car that Cassandra crashed into when she ran the red light? It was mine.” Her words are muffled, but I can understand them. Though I sort of wish I couldn’t. “My dad was brought here. To this hospital. Where he was”—she drags in a breath—“pronounced dead.”

I let her words sink in, feeling my breath leave my body. “What did the nurse mean when she said she hadn’t seen the three of us since Amy was born?”

For a moment, she’s quiet, seemingly gathering herself up to say the words. “When I was here, I heard that the pregnant woman had died, but that the baby survived.” She pulls her hands down from her face, and devastated red eyes look into mine. “I wanted to see for myself.” She chokes the words out. “Ineededto see for myself.” She wipes her cheeks. “The only thing that has kept me going was knowing that the innocent baby had survived and was healthy.” She sobs, shaking her head.

“I’m just going to go in the restroom for a minute,” she weeps. “I’ll be right back.” Getting up quickly, she rushes into the restroom.

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