Page 52 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

No. I grabbed a towel and wiped off my face. No one could know the truth. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. I’d kill my husband and my skeletons would die with him. I’d live the rest of my life in peace at last. As tempting as it was to confide in someone, the stakes were too high.

I walked down the stairs, cursing under my breath each time my hurt ankle held my weight. If I kept running around it would never heal. For once in my life I needed to stay still.

Ben looked up when I walked into the room. His cell was pressed to his ear.

And for a moment I thought he found something. I stopped, terror running through me. I had been so desperate to get into his basement. Had he been equally eager to get into mine? Unlike his basement door, there was no key required. Just a simple sliding lock.

He said my address into the phone.

I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself. They were going to take me away. “Ben, please…”

He hung up the phone and looked up at me.

God, it was too late. I didn’t want to go to jail. I was only just learning what it was like to be free.

“What?” he asked. There was humor in his eyes. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Who were you calling?”

“I ordered us some food.” He set his phone down on the kitchen table.

My hand released the doorframe and I sighed in relief.

“You should be sitting down and icing your ankle. And your shoulder. Do they make full-body ice packs?” He walked over to the freezer to examine the options.

“I think what we should be doing is talking about this.” I gestured back and forth between us.

He grabbed two ice packs and turned back to me. “What do you want me to say, Addy? Do you want me to ask where you two met? When you had your first kiss? How he proposed?” His voice was strained. “I don’t want to know any of that.”

I couldn’t make myself move. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? All I care about knowing is if he’s going to come in that door and try to beat the shit out of me. Otherwise, I don’t need any specifics.”

That was exactly the problem. Ben’s words made it hard to breathe. Every time my husband came home, he beat the shit out of me. But for Ben? It would be so much worse. What was I doing? I’d told Ben as much of the truth as I needed to. He was supposed to run away. He was supposed to save himself. But he hadn’t left. And now I held the power to save him. I couldn’t afford to repeat my past mistakes. I had lost sight of that in the face of his beauty and warmth. “I think you should go.” The words made me want to vomit again.

He lowered both his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Addy, I didn’t…”

“Really, it’s better if we put a pin on this until my marriage is over.”

“No.”

No? I repressed my smile. He was fighting for me. How was I supposed to turn him away when I had no one else on my side?

“And I do have questions.” He walked toward me. “Why does he force you to take pills? How long have you been married? What caused your miscarriage? Why did you say yes to his proposal in the first place? And why, Addy, why does talking about him make your hands shake?” He grabbed my hands in his to steady them. “I want to know none of it, but all of it at the same time. Tell me whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

He's been hurting me. I’m terrified of him. And I’m so scared for you. Instead of saying anything, I buried my face into his chest. He didn’t know it, but he was putting his life on the line for me. I breathed in his grassy scent. Combined with his embrace and the softness of his flannel shirt, I felt a wave of calmness surround me. “We should probably sit down.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do.”

I laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward my family room. It was the one room in the house that didn’t feel so cold. It was also the only room that didn’t have tan walls. One week when my husband was gone, I had painted the walls a seafoam green. A very light seafoam green. So pale that it was

really almost white. My husband had never noticed. It was a silent act of rebellion. It seemed fitting to talk to Ben in here.

We sat down on the couch, him on the opposite end. His distance was unsettling, but it was better like this. If his arm was slung over my shoulder while I talked, it would have been harder. He probably needed the distance as much as I did. I turned to face him, putting my legs up on the couch between us. I didn’t know where to start, so I adjusted the ice pack on my ankle.

I awkwardly cleared my throat. “My husband and I have been married for ten years. I thought I loved him for maybe…two…” I quickly met Ben’s eyes. “Two months. Not years.” My throat was dry and scratchy. “And even that? Looking back on it, it felt forced.” It didn’t feel forced at the time. But it was easy to look back now and know. Easy to see the signs. Because I knew it was all a lie.

“So why did you marry him?”

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