Page 84 of Ugly Truths
My friend’s face lights up. Jeff smiles, and his free hand falls against her back. The constellation of tattoos near his wrist moves side to side as he encourages her to speak. She doesn’t need much convincing, though, and quickly starts in on her job.
It only feels like a few moments have passed when the oven timer dings.
—
“All jokes aside, he seems really great,” Lauren murmurs as she scrubs at the stubborn burnt bits at the bottom of my casserole dish.
My lips curl as I dry the stainless steel pan she handed me, wipe away the last beads of water, and set it on the drying mat.
Bumping my hip against hers playfully, I reply, “I warned you he’s annoyingly charming.”
Lauren and I have been texting since Jeff started training with me again. Explaining to her who Silas is and the very broad strokes of our relationship was a journey. I told Jeff very little about why I suddenly had a bodyguard following me around when we trained previously, and he knew better than to ask questions. Forget the fact that neither of them read the local gossip magazines that printed the few photos of me and Silas together before everything fell apart.
To say she became adamant to meet him is an understatement, and only this past week did her schedule finally align with Silas’s to make dinner possible.
She blows out a breath, sending her wispy bangs fluttering before they settle back on her forehead. “It also should be illegal to be that attractive,” she quips, rinsing her soapy fingers under the tap and inspecting the dish for any missed spots before handing it to me. “No wonder he’s sunk his teeth into you.”
With a huff of a laugh, I take the ceramic dish before she turns off the water and reaches for another towel to dry off. “I’m a willing participant.”
“Kinky,” Lauren counters with a wink, turning to lean against the edge of the sink and watch me. “But hey, the feeling is mutual, so I approve.”
I pause, and my hesitation draws a snort from her. “Don’t be shy with me. I have two working eyes and have been watching him watchyouall night,” she continues.
A burst of cheers erupts from the television, accompanied by groans from Silas and Jeff, who had been discussing the end of the Cubs' season intermittently throughout dinner. We both glance toward the noise, though the living room isn’t visible from where we stand.
“I did some pretty unforgivable things to him,” I confess, setting my dish gently on the counter. Lauren hums, reaching for the half-empty wine bottle to top off our glasses.
“We’ve all done things we regret,” she says, seemingly forgetting when I showed up at their front steps, how we ignored news of nearby fires, and that I refused to tell them much of anything.
She hands me my glass, and I narrow my eyes slightly. She shrugs, “I might not know all the details of what happened, but I have an idea. You learned from it, and you came back, right?”
“I didn’t come back willingly,” I say softly, lips on the edge of my glass.
Lauren waves me off. “Well, you’re here now, and it looks like whatever you’re doing is working.”
I gaze into my wine, swirling it.
Sometimes it seems that way, but on those bad days, part of me still wants to mold myself into whoever Silas desires so that he can’t reject the parts of me I hadn’t let him see before. It can be unbearable, especially knowingexactlyhow I feel about him.
But I forced my way into his life, studying every shadow, with and without his permission. Maybe I fell so quickly because, no matter how many sides of him I saw, I kept getting pulled back into his orbit. Nothing I learned pushed me away. If anything, it only reinforced the gravity.
He deserves the time to decide if he feels the same.
My smile is tentative. Lauren’s studying me, her wine glass casually dangling from her fingertips. “Hopefullythat’s true.”
“It is,” she asserts. When I don’t offer any rebuttal, her attention drifts down to my thighs. “How are the scars? Are you keeping up with the regimen I gave you?”
I chuckle at the contrast of her clinical tone. “I have, and I’m still seeing some small improvements. A lot of them have faded.”
Her gaze lingers on my legs, then she nods approvingly. “If you ever want laser treatments, just let me know. I have a few friends who work at great med spas.”
I nod, contemplating. “Maybe, but I think I’m starting to like them,” I reply, taking another sip of wine. Lauren’s expression softens.
Movement near the doorway catches both of our attention before Silas pauses at the threshold, his eyes fixed on me in the dimly lit room.
“Don’t tell me you’re coming in here to rush my girl time,” Lauren says over the top of her glass. His amusement with her hasn’t faded this evening, evident in the growing smirk on his face.
I wasn’t sure how tonight would go. Jeff has only recently become more comfortable with Silas, and Lauren is less predictable. Not only did we experience some intense, accelerated bonding during the weeks I spent recovering here, but she’s also not one to hold back or censor her thoughts, no matter who's at the receiving end.
