Page 34 of Open Secrets
“Mom!” Remi’s voice, urgent, carried down the hall. “Rain’s awake!”
My body jolted into motion. I spun and sprinted back toward the room, heart slamming against my ribs.
Screw Stella. Screw her judgment, her God, her poisoned words.
My daughter was going to be okay.
I would make sure of it.
Chapter Ten
Lyle — Present
“Do you realize what you did?” Maria’s voice cuts through, dragging me out of the memory—of getting the call, of coming home to find everything in a mess. No matter how much I tried to talk to my mom, she didn’t change her mind. She said Maria wasn’t who she thought she was, that she’d never forgive her. I’ve barely spoken to my parents since.
Maria told me my parents were never coming near the kids again, and I supported that. But I didn’t support cutting Anna off. Not for making a mistake she didn’t even make.
“I lied,” I answer, voice low. “And I’m sorry.”
“No.” She shakes her head, wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “No, the lie was nothing compared to how alone you left me. God, Lyle—Anna actually offered to help. While I was drowning, while I desperately needed someone, she was there. And I turned her away because I blamed her for something she didn’t even do.” Her voice cracks, ragged.
“Lyle, the struggles… I didn’t have to go through all that. The kids didn’t have to go through that. If I’d just let her help, if I hadn’t shut her out—”
Her voice fractures, her face folding in on itself. “They missed so much. Birthdays. Christmas. They watched me work myself to the bone, they watched Rain nearly die, they watched me…” She swallows hard. “…they watched me crack. And I let them. I let them because I thought I had no one. Because I thought the one person who offered was the enemy.”
My stomach twists. The guilt sits heavier than any rucksack I ever hauled through the desert. My voice is barely a whisper. “Maria, I did that. I put that weight on you. Not Anna. Not the Army. Me.”
Her eyes find mine, sharp through the blur of tears. “Damn right you did. You gave me silence and lies and secrets. You gave me the wrong villain so I could swing and swing at the wrong target while I was sinking.”
I scrub a hand down my face, shame stinging my skin. “I thought I was protecting you.” The words sound pitiful even as they leave my mouth. “God, Maria, I thought if I told you the truth—that it was Bethany—you’d break. That it would be worse.”
“Worse?” Her laugh is jagged, cracked glass. “You think this—” She gestures between us, the space poisoned with years of silence. “—isn’t worse?”
I can’t answer. My chest is too tight, every excuse I ever leaned on splintering into dust.
She shakes her head, lowering her face into her hands. Her voice is muffled but raw. “I needed you. More than I’ve ever needed anyone. And you gave me half a truth, half a marriage, half apartner. Do you know what it feels like to sleep next to someone and still be alone?”
The words hit harder than any bullet. My throat burns as I whisper, “Yeah. Because that’s how I’ve felt since.”
Her hands still. She looks up at me, eyes swollen, wet, disbelieving. And for the first time, I let it spill, the truth I’ve swallowed for years.
“Since Rain got sick. Since I kept deploying. Since you stopped looking at me like I was worth holding onto. I’ve been right here, Maria, in this house, in this bed, and still alone.”
Silence swallows us whole. Only the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the echo of our kids’ laughter long gone to sleep, fills the air between us.
Finally, she exhales, shaky, almost a sob. “Then maybe we were both alone. And maybe that’s the real tragedy.”
I reach across the space, my hand hovering, not daring to touch. “Then let’s stop. Let’s stop being alone.”
She gets up, and whispers through her tears, “I don’t know how that’s possible anymore.”
And then she’s gone—slipping out of the office, leaving me with nothing but the echo of those words.
For a long time, I just sit there. Staring at the empty doorway. Trying to figure out how the hell to stitch something back together when the other half doesn’t believe it can be fixed.
The next two days are weird. Unsettling. Maria and I move around each other like ghosts in our own house. She talks to me when the kids are in earshot—civil, polite, the way strangers can be—but when we’re alone? Nothing. I might as well not exist.
I can’t even blame her. The abortion was our secret, our choice, and we swore we’d never tell anyone. And I went and told Bethany. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?
