Page 75 of Lie With Me

Now that I know the passcode to her phone, I open it and click on the message app just as another one comes through.

Only this time, it isn’t Ginny.

It’s her mother. And my stomach roils with waves of nausea as I read through the messages.

I don’t want to be here anymore. Please let me leave.

Valentina, please. I need you.

Merry Christmas, my little Valentine.

Merry Christmas, Momma.

They are trying to kill me. Why are you doing this to me? Do you want me dead that badly?

He will find you. When he does, he will kill you, and I will be free.

I hate you, you ungrateful bitch.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I wish I’d died.

Will you agree to a therapy session together?

The only message Lenni has responded to is the one at Christmas, and I feel my heart splinter into thousands of sharp pieces. It’s one thing to hear her story. It’s another thing entirely to see her mother speak to her this way and know that Lenni still seeks some sort of approval from the person who was supposed to keep her safe.

It’s clear from her mother’s messages saying someone is going to kill her, and saying someone is going to kill Lenni, that she’s clearly not in her right mind.

Lenni’s footsteps in the hall have me hastilyexiting the thread and swiping right to mark it as unread before quickly pulling up Ginny’s message.

“What did Gin say?” Lenni asks again, tossing her overnight bag on the ground.

Tension fills my chest. “She… uh… she wants to know if you can get her a jar of peanut butter…for her pickles.”

“Weird ass pregnancy cravings.” Lenni takes her phone from me and types out something before sticking it in her back pocket. I must not be as good of an actor as she is, because she searches my face with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, I pull her into me, cradling her head in the crook of my neck. “Just gonna miss you tonight.”

She squeezes me tighter, kissing my neck gently. “Something tells me Jackson likes to be the big spoon, so at least you’ll get cuddles.”

I laugh when all I really want to do is tell her how fucking sorry I am that she had the childhood she did. That I don’t want her to do the therapy session. Not with her mother.

I’m going to protect her.

Even if that means protecting her from herself.

Lenni

“Len, if you cry, your makeup will smear,” Ginny gently scolds me as a hairstylist puts the finishing touches on her updo.

“You’re getting married, Gin! And you look so beautiful. I can’t help it.” I blink rapidly, trying to keep my emotions at bay.

Ginny looks stunning in an off-the-shoulder mermaid gown made of tulle and lace with a semi-cathedral train. The sweetheart neckline shimmers with crystals and pearls, with floral and vine lace appliques covering the entire dress. Her hair is a mass of curls on top of her head, with a beaded hairpiece on one side of the elaborate style.

She’s classically gorgeous, and I’m so damn happy for her.

Once the stylist finishes, Ginny grabs three boxes from the vanity she’s in front of and motions for me to sit next to her. “Only one of these is from me. Theother two are from your man. We may have collaborated on your gift.”

Shock ripples through me as I recognize the packaging from Harry Winston. “Ginny, you didn’t need to get me anything!”

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