Page 81 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Khalohn doesn’t know why he does it, why he gives her a part of himself he’s not given anyone in a long time. He’s confident of only this, as he looks into Jessica’s brown eyes, wet with fresh tears he’s unsure if she’s even noticed yet, he can trust her with it.

She’s entrusted me with her pain. Seems only right I do the same.

“My mother left when I was five years old. I didn’t understand it then, but I felt it. Felt the weight of that loss; the meaning of it. When I hear about mother’s like yours, it’s only further proof my mother didn’t love me. Or, if I’m merciful, maybe she couldn’t.

“My father raised me. Maybe that’s love. It’s possible it’s all the love he could give me. When my mother left, maybe she took some of my father, too. Then he met Cheryl. When Blair was born…” He stops himself, hesitating for a long moment before he explains, “The only reason I didn’t grow up in his shadow is because I was eight years older than him. I was too tall to be dwarfed by it.

“I guess what I’m saying is—Hollie was different. I thought she was different. In a lot of ways, I suppose she was. But she still left. And when she did, I felt like an idiot for feeling so surprised.”

“Not an idiot,” Jessica breathes, her voice so soft it’s hardly audible. She blinks, freeing a couple tears she doesn’t bother to wipe away and then says, “You can’t just shut your heart off. It doesn’t come with a switch.”

“Yeah,” says Khalohn on a sigh. He slides his hand up Jessica’s back, stroking her spine lazily as he continues, “I would have argued otherwise. Then I met you.”

“Khalohn?”

“Right here, precious.”

Licking her lips anxiously, she blows out a sigh and then asks, “What are we doing?”

Just as he did when she broke the silence earlier, he doesn’t respond with his words. He lifts his hand away from her back, traces his fingertips along her hairline, and tucks a few silky strands behind her ear. His touch is tender. So tender, it makes her want to cry.

“I’m a mess,” she whimpers. “And—you and me—I…”

“No more secrets,” says Khalohn, holding the back of her head in his palm. “No more lies. No moredeal.” He locks his gaze with hers, staring unwaveringly as he goes on to say, “You and me.”

“But we don’t even—”

“There are no promises here, Jessica. Not from me. Not from you,” he interrupts, certain her rebuttal holds no merit. Especially not after what they shared in the very bed they still lay in, both of them still naked. “You want to walk away, you say the word. You want to stay—you want to see where this goes? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When she extracts her fingers from his hair in order to grab hold of his wrist, Khalohn’s fingers twitch around the back of her head as he touches his forehead to hers. She nods, as much as his hold will allow, and then she reaches for a kiss.

The conversation that follows starts at a whisper.

A while later, it ends with a gasp and a groan.

Jessica wakes upin bed alone Wednesday morning. She lays on her side, staring at the spot where Khalohn laid, thinking about what it means that she knows he’s likely up for a swim. It’s such a small part of who he is—his morning routine—but it’s something he’s given her. Something she holds onto, just as she intends to hold onto him.

There are no promises here, Jessica.

You want to stay…I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She rolls onto her back, sucking in a deep breath, remembering how they spent all of the previous evening. The sex had been an escape. It injected a spark of life into her body, reminding her of her need tomove. The cuddles afterward were a comfort. Being in Khalohn’s arms was good for her soul.

Now, a new day dawning, she thinks of all the unknown that lays ahead of her. Jessica’s life must go on. Empty as her loss makes her feel, she acknowledges she can’t hide in Khalohn’s penthouse forever. It’s not who she is. But that truth only seems to beg a series of questions…

Who am I without her? Am I the same? Is it even right to try to be?

The realization that these are questions she can’t ignore is daunting, but she’s been avoiding them for days. Staring up at the ceiling, Jessica makes up her mind. With this new day, she’ll at least try to ponder what the answers might be. Beth has been laid to rest, which means all Jessica can do now is search for peace.

She closes her eyes, and her memory of Khalohn’s gym fills her mind. After he brought her to his place, it took her a couple days to wander around. It was on Sunday, when she couldn’t find Khalohn, that she ventured to the third level of the penthouse. Along with his indoor pool, he’s got a fully outfitted gym, all of which is bordered by a terrace with the perfect view. However, as she remembers the space—it’s not the view, the pool, or the gym equipment that calls to her. It’s the vacant floor space at the center of his gym. Floor space where she canmove.

Jessica’s heart aches at the thought of dancing. She’s confident it’ll bring her just as much joy as it will sorrow; it’ll wring out emotions she’s been harboring for days. It’ll hurt—but it’ll also give her clarity. It always has.

I’m a dancer. With or without mom—becauseof mom—I’ll always be a dancer.

Certain as she is, procrastination feels easier. When her stomach growls, she clings to the excuse to hold off from heading upstairs. Her appetite has been almost nonexistent for more than a week. Hunger feels like healing, and she’s content to indulge the feeling.

Climbing out of bed, she walks naked toward the bathroom, making a pit-stop in Khalohn’s extravagant dressing room. The bag Stefano brought was unpacked by the woman who cleans Khalohn’s home once a week. She plucks a pair of panties out of one of the dresser drawers in the middle of the room and steps into them. Then, rather than hunt for something clean to wear, she finds the NYU hoodie she’s been wearing, pulls it over her head, and continues her journey to the bathroom. She’s just finishing up rinsing her face when Khalohn appears.

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