Enraged with anger at his continued deceit, I throw open the door I just shut, then slip out of the truck. I barely make it three steps away from the hood when Alex is on my tail.
“When have I lied to you?” his voice roars through both my chest and the deadly quiet afternoon.
I whip around to face him so fast I give myself whiplash. "Oh, I don't know, how about the accountant speech you gave me at the hospital?! Or what about the whole toolbelt incident instead of admitting you were carrying a gun—"
“That was Josie, not me.”
I continue talking as if he never spoke, “—Or the fact that you continuously deny me when I know you want me?! How many more examples do you want, Alex? A hundred? I can give you a hundred just from the number of times you’ve looked at me the past twenty-four hours.” He remains quiet, perplexed and blindsided by my honesty. “A lie doesn’t need to be vocalized to be heard. You just have to think it.”
“What do you see when you look at me, Regan? A man who can’t stop thinking about you? That you’re on my mind from when the sun rises to when it goes down, no matter what is happening in my day? That you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucking seen?! They aren’t lies. Nothing I’ve said or shown you are lies! They are omissions of the truth.”
“They’re still lies!”
“No, they’re not,” he denies, stepping closer to me. “A lie is something you do when you are deceiving someone. An omission of truth is sometimes the only option you have when you’re trying to protect someone you care about. I don’t want to lie to you, Rae, but I sure as fuck don’t want to lose you either.”
I clutch my chest, trying to lessen its leaps from his words. I thought it was just me. The crackling. The fire. I thought it was all my imagination. But he just proved it isn't. He's as deeply invested as me. Just as confused, but definitely devoted.
Even with a hundred theories running through my head, I can’t help but ask, “Who are you, Alex? Really.”
If I were to believe the hunch I’ve been running with since the night we bumped heads in the elevator, he’s either an undercover cop or a spy. I honestly don’t know which scenario I despise the most.
He licks his cracked lips. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
“Can’t,” he answers without pause. “Yet,” he quickly adds on when he spots disappointment in my eyes. “But I will. One day.”
“Just not today?”
He smirks, hoping his heart-fluttering smile will have me feeling no pain when he confirms, “Not today. But soon. I promise you, Rae. When the time is right, you’ll know everything.”
Trusting the honesty beaming out of him, I ask a question I’ve wanted answered since we met. “Why do you call me Rae? There are only two times I’ve been called Rae. By my daddy when I was a child, and by the clients at. . .”
I didn't think this through. From what I've heard via the grapevine, Substanz is still in operation. Jayce is no longer at the helm, but the cabaret dancers and cigar-smoking clientele are still in abundance. Although I doubt Alex would judge me on my past, I like the way he looks at me. I don't want to ruin that for anything.
I raise my eyes to Alex’s. His quirked brow reveals he didn’t miss my fade-to-black comment. “I take it this is what you meant by an omission of the truth?”
With a smile, he nods. “It isn’t that you don’t want to be honest, just sometimes you can’t be. It’s like when my sister asked if her butt looked big in her prom dress, even if it was the size of a submarine, I’d never say it was. An omission of the truth isn’t about harm; it’s about keeping the other person from getting hurt.”
His words impact me more than I can explain. For the past eight years, I’ve felt like I’ve been living one big fat lie. Now it doesn’t feel so bad. I’m not lying to the people I love. I’m stopping them from getting hurt. Those are two entirely different things. So as much as Alex’s inability to be honest frustrates me, until I come clean on the lapses I’ve had the past decade, I can’t preach morality.
“Rae. . .”
I slant my head to the side, confused as to why Alex's voice mixed with my father’s. For the first time in months, my muddled mind gets a moment of reprieve. I didn't imagine two influential voices mixing together. I heard them as one, delivered with the same amount of sorrow. My father's for lying, and Alex's for his ability to read me like no man ever has.
After thanking a local for the lift, my father closes the gap between us with long, brisk strides. Alex also moves closer. His steps are more imposing than my father’s. I should pull away when he lifts his hand to my face, but with his eyes finally free of betrayal, I can’t. I want his touch. I want his hands on me. Even more so since I’ve just realized we’re standing mere feet from a parcel of land I will never forget.
I was so caught up bickering with Alex, I didn’t recognize the landscape we were driving past, but with my dad’s savior whipping past us with his headlights on, the truth is viciously crashing into me. I forgot to turn off at Smith Street, meaning I’ve driven right into the eye of the storm. We are mere feet from the site of Luca’s accident.
“What’s going on, Sweetie? Why did you stop here?” my father asks, catching up to us.
He yanks on Alex’s shoulder so rigidly, his thumb slips from my mouth. The concern in both Alex and my father’s eyes doubles when they scan my ashen cheeks and moisture-filled eyes.
“I. . . uh . . I forgot to turn off,” I reply, my voice as low as my heart rate.
Stunned by the sheer terror in my reply, Alex follows the direction of my gaze. Nearly eight years have passed since I visited this site, but the gap in time hasn’t hindered my observation skills in the slightest. Even if it had, the late afternoon sun illuminating the cross on the tree that claimed Luca’s life quickly floods me with memories.
Although the sun rays bouncing off the white paint appear angelic, the absolute horror tearing at my chest is anything but. I forgot him. It may have only been for a minute, but I still forgot. That is unforgivable.
