Page 106 of A Smile Full of Lies
Knox
Can I call you?
My heart stuttered.
I thumbed out a reply.
Me
Sure.
The phone rang.
“Hey,” I said, voice barely steady.
“Hey,” he echoed, warm and quiet on the other end. I could hear the soft hum of the road beneath his tires, the faint shuffle of air through the truck’s vents. “I didn’t want to text this. Didn’t want it to get buried. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
My fingers curled tighter around the edge of the counter.
He hesitated, then said, “I know I’ve said this before, but I need to say it again, need you to hear it loud and clear. I trust you, Ros.”
I pressed my hand to my stomach.
“You do? Are you really sure about this?”
“I wouldn’t have given you that USB drive if I wasn’t,” he said. “That footage… that’s everything I’ve got. And I know it’s not much. But if anyone can make sense of it — if anyone can tell this story the way it’s supposed to be told — it’s you.”
My chest ached.
“I’m trusting you with this,” he said, and I could picture the look on his face, the one he gave me when he was stripped bare but trying to play it cool. “All of it. The past. My family. The house. The story. You tell it your way, so long as it’s the truth. I just… I want you to have it.”
My breath hitched.
He didn’t know the truth. He couldn’t. And if he ever found out what I suspected — what I knew — I’d lose him because this wasn’t just a story anymore. It was a fuse, and I was holding the match. He’d commanded me to tell the truth, but how could I, without losing everything?
“I’ll do right by you,” I said softly.
“I know you will,” he replied, his voice full of quiet certainty.
The call ended.
And I didn’t know how to live with the weight of that trust.
Not now. Not with what I knew.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
KNOX
I satat the end of the conference table in a beige Mobile office that smelled faintly of old coffee and copy paper, while a junior associate droned about some updated clause in a cyber liability contract. He thought he was being thorough. All I heard was static.
Because I already knew how I was going to break her.
I’d read her confession before I left the house. Every line burned into me like scripture, carved into my bloodstream, branded behind my eyes. I didn’t need to check my phone. Didn’t need a reminder. I carried her words like a live fucking wire under my skin.
I choose him. Come what may.
