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Some say the truth will set you free. But I must be the exception to that rule because I’ve never felt more imprisoned than I do right now.
“Lucy!” My fiancé, Samuel Stone, lies slumped over in the middle of our yard, his desperation almost palpable as he searches the grounds for answers. It’s as if he’s woken from a slumber and come back to me as the man I once remembered. But his twin brother’s scent lingering on my skin calls attention to the fact I’m no longer the woman I once was.
“Sam, I’m here.” I race over to where he kneels, broken and alone. His head snaps up, his eyes needing a moment to focus on me as it appears he’s still lost in a past he can’t quite recall.
“What’s going on? I don’t…remember.” That word slices through my heart because I do…I remember every single thing.
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Dried blood has collected at his temple and smeared down his neck. He said he fell and hit his head. Was this what triggered him to remember?
Sam continues staring at me as he’s attempting to decode what the hell is going on. “Why is Saxon here?” And just like that, the shitstorm becomes a full-blown tornado, threating to destroy us all.
“I’ll explain everything once we get inside. Come on.” I offer him my hand because I know he won’t be able to make the journey back to our house alone. He looks at it, then back up at me. Sam is nothing short of stubborn—that’s never changed—but he finally slips his fingers through mine.
The moment we make contact, the memories of the past few months slam into me, and the immediate need to withdraw overcomes me. But as I look into Sam’s eyes, the eyes which no longer bear hatred or hostility toward me, I push aside my concerns.
He exhales heavily before rising wearily and coming to a stand before me. He rubs his thumb over my knuckles while searching every inch of my face. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”
In some ways, his words aren’t too far off the mark.
“Something’s…different. I can see it. I can feel it.”
Although I’ve entwined my fingers in his, my hand is limp, the connection far from that of a couple who was moments away from sayingI do.
The memories are almost too much, so I focus on leading him to the house, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. But he obstinately stands his ground. “There was a time when you told me everything. Now you can’t even look at me.” On cue, I lower my gaze, confirming his claims. “Baby, talk to me. No matter what has happened, we can work through this. I love you.”
I rip my hand from his, unable to stomach his admission. “Sam, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell my fiancée I love her?” When I rub the diamond he gave me, I remember all the bitter memories now associated with this ring. I should have given it back weeks ago.
“Let’s go inside,” I repeat, seconds away from breaking. The air is stale, but he finally agrees.
We walk side by side, no longer linked as Sam knows something is horribly wrong. He gives me space, which I appreciate, but I know that reprieve will only last for so long.
When we enter the kitchen, the memories of when I was last in here assault me. I grip the counter, afraid I’m about to keel over. The evidence of last night’s dinner confirms this is really happening. The pots and pans soak in the sink, no doubt thanks to Piper, who did as I asked. No one found us, and for a few blissful hours, I discovered happiness once again. The problem is, I unearthed that happiness in the arms of my fiancé’s twin.
“I-I’ll just grab a few things. I’ll be back.” I don’t wait for Sam to reply.
The moment I make my way down the hallway, I place a hand to my mouth to mute my hollow whimpers. I have to be strong because this is just the beginning. I rummage through the bathroom drawers and gather the first-aid supplies I need.
As I close the medicine cabinet, I peer at my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. Samuel has come back to me; he’s once again the man I loved with all my heart. But as I brush over the length of my neck—the canvas where Saxon laid a million kisses—I know everything has changed.
Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.
Saxon’s tattoo is the key to what I’ve been missing, but the sad thing is, I didn’t even know I was living a lie until a few minutes ago. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I see that Sam is right—I do look different because Iamdifferent.
With that as my driving force, I quickly pad down the corridor, ready to claim what is mine. Samuel is sitting at the counter, cradling his head in his palms. His posture is that of utter defeat, breaking my heart. “Hey.”
He jerks upward, as if my voice transported him back to the now.
When he slowly turns to look over his shoulder, a ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “Hey.” I’d almost forgotten what being entrapped by that crooked grin felt like. There was a time when I lived for that feeling, but now, I’m just numb.
With a slow pace, I make my way to where he sits and place the items on the counter. My hands tremble, but I steady them. “You said you fell?”
He nods. “Yes, I blacked out in the shower. I remember a splitting pain in my head but not much else.” His bloodied fists remind me of his brutality toward Saxon. No doubt he knows what we did, but what he doesn’t know is why.
Reaching for his hands, I gently place them under the faucet and wash the blood off them. I can’t stand to see the evidence of Saxon’s pain. He hums when I rub my fingers over his knuckles, the warm water washing away his sins. “Samuel…”
“What is it? You can tell me anything.”
