Page 38 of The Lies You Love
Beck rubs my back with his thumbs. “Maisey was her name. We were close in age, so by proxy, very close. I’m not sad about her death anymore.” There are unsaid words after he finishes his sentence, but I don’t pry. The brittle honesty endears me to him. “You should know before we go. Maisey loved camping. It’s what made me think of her, then my parents, and then the visit.”
“I can’t wait to meet your parents,” I say. Beck releases me, and I feel like we’re connected by some invisible string with a live electric current pulsating through. He tells me they’re going to love me, and the word sends a thrill rushing down my spine. After the dormant spell of feeling nothing, it’s as if I feel everything, all at once. The numbness is being replaced by things I wasn’t sure my new heart and Auden two point oh was capable of.
“I have to ask. Tell me you don’t want to answer, and I won’t be offended at all, but what happened to Maisey? Did she get sick?”
His face changes the moment I say her name. The lines in his forehead seem to deepen right before my eyes. “She wasn’t sick,” he says, neck working as he swallows. “Someone else was. Maisey was murdered in cold blood. A bank robbery gone wrong.”
I shudder. It’s far worse than I thought. More words I can’t speak. I don’t know how. “I’m sorry isn’t enough, but I truly am, Beckett. Did they find her killer?”
Beck pulls away and gently releases me. He strides a few paces away to the window in his small living room. “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “Not because they didn’t try. Not because I didn’t try.”
He turns a masculine drink of water, no, something stronger than water. Acid vodka. Something fictional that can melt off a face and get me drunk at the same time. “I couldn’t save her, and I’d saved her our entire lives.” The urge to point out that it sounds like there’s no way he could save his sister from a random robbery comes, but I push it back down. He must know that; someone has to have told him that he’s not responsible for not being able to save his sister.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “Well, I did have to if you’re going to meet my parents.” Beck smirks.
“Oh, so I’m not special?” I fire back, slinging a hand on my hip. “We just had a meaningful conversation while naked. That’s special.” My cheeks heat at the mention of the word naked which is asinine as the man has seen me without clothes more than with.
His grin widens. “You’re special.”
I roll my eyes and cross my feet at the ankle. His eyes track the movement like he knows he’s going to undo the motion. “Naked truths,” I declare. “When I was growing up, we had this ugly red paisley area rug in the foyer. We called it the rug of secrets and honesty. We could say whatever we wanted on that rug and it wouldn’t leave it. The other people on the rug at the time of confession were bound to secrecy.” I motion between our bodies. “This is our version. You, me, naked truths.”
His smile is bright and white as he nods, gaze licking up my body. “Okay. I’m on board with that. Tell me the worst thing you ever spoke on the area rug.”
It takes some thought because I was a good kid, a good teenager, only taking what was given to me. I had a plan and never wanted anything to get in the way of my goals. Life had other ideas, but back then, everything now seems so small. I giggle, covering my mouth with one hand. “I was good,” I warn him. “It was that I drank vodka and filled the bottle back up with water. My dad already knew, of course, but there was another rule that if I confessed to something bad on my own without them having to ask, I’d get in less trouble.”
“Always had a thing for hard liquor then?” he jokes.
“Only when I need liquid courage.” Walking over to his bar cart, I pour a bourbon and swirl the glass before taking a sip, “and when I want to do bad things.”
He licks his bottom lip. “Naked truths. I like this.” He pours himself a drink and takes his place on the other side of the room where he has a full view of me. “What do you want to know about me?”
“I could abuse this, you know? Will you tell me anything if I ask?”
He cocks his head. “That’s the point.”
“Who do you protect? When you’re not off.”
He smirks. “Abuse. Rephrase the question.”
I tap my chin and take a long swallow. It burns my chest. “Is it a woman?”
He nods.
My pulse hammers against my neck. “It’s not anything you’re imagining, Auden. Think about how you view stocking the shelves or placing orders for your store. Or how about dealing with customers or cleaning shelves. It’s a job. My job. I worry about things, sure, but I do not look at my work as anything other than an obligation and a paycheck.”
The sentiment soaks in and I believe him, but it’s also so weird. “What do you have to protect her from?”
He raises his brows and grabs his dick. “Everything. Herself. Nothing. It depends on the day, the hour, her mood.”
“Is she your first job after going through training?”
He nods, raising a brow in shock. “Yes.”
“Who is watching her now?”
“Another Charge Man,” he says, using the name I suspected.
