Forgiving Lies
Page 43

 Molly McAdams

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She looked like she was about to cry. My parents’ death had been almost as hard on her. “Well, what did you say to him after?”
“Nothing. He was walking toward me and I turned and ran back into my part of the dining room. I avoided him the rest of my shift.”
“Rach, I’m sorry.” She sniffed and blinked back tears that were threatening to fall as she fanned at her eyes rapidly. “Screw this. Tonight is a Chinese-food-and-Ben-and-Jerry’s kind of night.” She grabbed the Lean Cuisine she’d taken out, put it back in the freezer, and looked at our stock. “I’m going to go get food and another couple pints; we’re running low and I have a feeling we’ll go through a lot this week.”
I smiled weakly at her and slid off the counter. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, go get comfy and take some Midol. I’ll be right back.”
“Love you, Candi.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. “Love you back. Always.”
I was in my pajamas and had just finished downing the pills and a glass of water when the door opened and Kash walked in. Candice has seriously got to start locking that door when she leaves.
“Are you locked out tonight?” I asked, but didn’t look up at him.
“No. I want to know what’s going on with you.”
Shrugging, I put the cup in the dishwasher and walked over to the couch. “Nothing.”
“So you just walked away from me and avoided me for the rest of the night . . . because you felt like it?”
“Pretty much.”
He walked over until he was standing directly in front of me, blocking my view of the TV, but I still didn’t look at him. “We talked about this.”
When he didn’t continue, I snorted. “We talk about a lot, Kash. You expect me to know what conversation you’re referring to just because you know which one you’re talking about? Can you move? You’re in the way.”
He moved. But it was to grab the remote out of my hand to turn the TV off. “You’re shielding again. Why? Did I push things too far tonight? Did something happen to you? Are you having nightmares again?”
“I’m just having a shitty night. Isn’t that enough?”
“Then tell me! Don’t throw your shield at me. I told you, no shields with us; if something is wrong, I want you to tell me. I can’t help you through whatever is going on if you shut me out.”
“I don’t need you to help me, I need you to back off! You’re not my boyfriend, you’re not supposed to be there to fix things.”
His eyes turned silver and his brow furrowed. “Where’s my Rachel, huh? The girl who just this morning dumped an entire bowl of pancake batter on my head and was kissing me . . . where is she?”
“First of all, you don’t have a Rachel. And as for this morning, we’ll say it was a moment of stupidity on my part.”
“A mo—” His eyebrows shot up and he took a step back as he shook his head. “A moment of stupidity? That’s really what you’re going to call that?”
It was a moment in my life I wanted to relive over and over again. But it was stupid. I shoved off the couch and headed for my room. “Since you like to let yourself in, see yourself out.”
Before I made it to my door, he grabbed on to my wrist and yanked me back toward him. “Stop with the goddamn shields!”
“Fine! You don’t want shields? Then they’re gone!” I tried to free my wrist, but it was no use. “I had a shitty night at work. Which you already mostly know about, seeing as you had to buy me a new shirt. Bad shifts happen, people get over it. As for the kiss . . . can I remind you that you were acting like it’d never happened as well? We shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”
“And why the f**k not?”
I kept talking over him. “And then you had to go and sing that song! Why did you pick that song?”
His head jerked back slightly and his eyes lost some of their fierceness. “You’re mad about me singing the song? You love that song. You play it all the time.”
I finally succeeded at freeing my wrist and crossed my arms under my chest. “And how the hell would you know that? I know I’ve never played that song in front of you!”
“Seriously? You leave your windows open! We live right across from each other. I can hear it from my apartment.”
Oh. “Well, that’s private. It’s for my parents. You don’t understand what it could possibly mean to me for you to sing that song to me.”
Confusion crossed his face and he shook his head. “For your parents?”
“Yes! And since we’re throwing the shields out, I lied to you, Kash.”
“About what?” he said through gritted teeth, and called my name when I turned and dashed into my room. “Damn it, woman, stop running from me!”
“I’m not running. I never told my parents about what happened to me like I promised you I would,” I mumbled as I grabbed underneath my mattress for my journal. Turning back to him, I held it up so he could see it and dropped it on the bed. “That is how I told my parents.”
His eyes were narrowed again as they bounced between the journal and me. “Why?”
“Why did I lie to you? Because you kept telling me I should tell them. And . . . well . . . technically, I did. I wrote it to them, so I guess I wasn’t exactly lying, because this”—I picked the journal back up—“is the only way I can talk to them.”