Page 42 of The Lie of Us

“I can imagine the pressure would be a lot to take,” I said softly as I nodded. Kai poked his fork at the food in front of him. It was almost as if the conversation had made him increasingly uncomfortable and I wasn’t sure why. “If there is anyone who can handle it, though, it would be you. You’ve always been centered when it has come to golf. Are you taking a break because of those reasons?”

He cocked his head to the side, just a fraction of an inch. He was already feeling vulnerable and our conversation had barely started. Kai slowly shook his head. “I’m taking a break because I was off. I wasn’t playing like I was when I first started.”

“What happened?” I questioned him as I slid my own fork into my pasta and began to swirl it around on the spoon in the dish.

“You happened, Winter,” he said with a tenderness, yet there was resignation in his tone, as if he had succumbed to his fate. “You always happen.”

My eyes widened slightly, yet I wasn’t following. “What does that mean?”

Kai took a bite of his food and watched me as he slowly chewed. It was as if time was suspended and it stopped moving. My breathing grew shallow as my mind ran rampant with all of the possible things he could say. He swallowed and took a sip of his water and I was completely unprepared for what he was going to tell me.

“We agreed on the truth, so you can’t be angry with me for being honest.” He paused, setting his glass of water back down in front of him. “Six months ago, I saw you at the bar you frequented with another man. I haven’t been playing right since. Every time I try to focus, for some outlandish reason, the image of you both laughing together enters my mind.”

The air left my lungs in a rush and I was still hanging on to the second sentence he spoke. At that moment, I didn’t care about his golf game or what was wrong with it. I didn’t care about the image he had in his mind.

“You were in Vermont six months ago?” I whispered the words, not fully trusting my voice. His truth was like a knife twisting in my heart. “You were there and you didn’t tell me?”

The air surrounding us was suffocating. My heart was in my stomach and I glanced around for the nearest exit. My breathing was already growing erratic. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to answer either of those questions.

“That wasn’t the first time, darling.” His jaw clenched for a fraction of a second and I watched the storm brewing deep in his irises. “But it was most certainly the last.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MALAKAI

Winter’s eyes were wide as she stared back at me like she had seen a ghost. The color had drained from her face and I couldn’t quite read the emotions that danced in her irises. I wanted to take back the words the instant they escaped me, but I couldn’t. I had no choice but to go with it at this point. The truth was bound to surface eventually, I just planned on giving it to her in a more eloquent manner.

“What do you mean?” she practically whispered as her eyes searched mine with such desperation, I could feel it in my chest. “What do you mean it wasn’t the first time?”

“I came to Vermont on more than one occasion.” I paused for a moment, collecting my thoughts as I set my silverware down. “I needed to see for myself that you were okay. I told myself if you were thriving, I would stay away. You were, so I didn’t make contact.”

Her mouth was agape and she quickly snapped it shut. Her eyebrows drew together as her face contorted. I watched her with careful consideration. It felt as if she were a grenade and I pulled the pin. Instead of running for cover, I was bracing myself for her destruction. I expected her to be angry, to yell at me. Instead, she just looked broken.

And that broke me even more.

“What gave you the impression that I was thriving?”

I folded my hands on my lap. “You were at the bar with some people who appeared to be your friends. You were smiling and laughing.” My eyes swept across her face. “You didn’t look like this. You looked like you were happy.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. The emotion had vanished but the pain lingered in her features. “Of course I was happy. I was living my life the way I wanted to, but that didn’t mean I was thriving. That didn’t mean I didn’t go home and stare at the ceiling while thoughts of you plagued my mind.”

Her words caught me off guard. They threw me off-balance and I felt the sharp intake of my own breath. My chest tightened. I had myself convinced she had moved on and forgotten about me. Not that it was something I would ever fault her for doing, considering I was the one who pushed her away.

“How many times?” she questioned me.

“Excuse me?”

Torment mixed with the pain, deep within the cracks of the mask she tried to plaster on her face. She couldn’t fool me. She never could.

“How many times did you come to Vermont?”

I mulled over her question. The truth—no more lies and deception. “Four times.”

Her eyes widened the slightest bit that if I weren’t solely focused on her, I wouldn’t have noticed. “You came there four times to see me, but never told me?”

I shook my head. “I had already done enough damage, I was trying to spare you.”

“You do realize how fucked up that is, right? You went there and didn’t tell me and watched me from afar?”

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