The Lies That Define Us (Us 2)

“I wish I could forget it all,” she mumbled, burying her head in the crook of my neck.

“How’d you get away?” I asked her. If this guy was as crazy as he sounded, I didn’t see how she managed that. Even a fighter like her.

“He got sloppy. I guess with the wedding approaching he felt like my position in the family was secure, so he stopped having me guarded twenty-four-seven. I figured out the schedule I was being watched, and I slipped out during one of the off times. I boarded a bus with all the money I’d been able to take, and I ended up here. Talia and Ollie took pity on me, and then there was you,” she whispered, her fingers tracing my lips.

I took her hand, winding my fingers through hers. “Why didn’t you go home? To your parents?”

I saw shutters come down over her eyes and she yanked her hand from mine. She gathered the sheets against her chest and rolled out of bed, speed-walking into the bathroom and closing the door.

I ran after her, but by the time I made it to the door, I heard the lock click in place. I tried the door anyway.

“Ari?” I laid my palm flat against the cool wood of the door. “What did I say? Talk to me, please.”

I heard the shower turn on and then she called out, “I don’t want to talk anymore, okay? Later, please?”

I leaned my forehead against the door, both palms flat against it.

I didn’t respond, because frankly I didn’t want to tell her it was okay. But what choice did I have? She’d dropped a major bomb on me, but she’d been keeping this a secret for four years, so I felt like I had to give her some space. She had to feel emotionally crippled.

After a moment, I walked away from the door and dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a gray t-shirt.

I called for room service, and while I waited for it to arrive and Ari to emerge from the bathroom, I made myself comfortable on the bed and turned on the TV. I flipped through the channels until I found the one I was looking for. It was a sports channel covering the competition tomorrow, and they were currently going through the stats on each player.

I sat up with interest when they got to me.

They went over my stats at first, like they always did, and then it cut to the commentators. I turned up the volume and zeroed in on the screen.

“Liam Wade shows promise. You know, Tim, I was doubtful about him. I mean, he’s a rock star’s kid so I figured this was a phase to try and gain some limelight, but the guy is good. He could come in and win it all. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He’s good,” the other man agreed, “but he has a long way to go. A lot of these guys have been doing this professionally since they were fifteen and he’s only begun breaking into the scene.”

“True,” the first man nodded, “but you can’t deny he has raw talent. Fan favorite Wyatt Perry might’ve met his match.”

I threw my fist in the air in elation as the screen cut away to Wyatt’s stats.

Hearing what the commentators had to say made me feel good. I could handle them saying I needed work, I knew I did because there’s always room for improvement, but neither of them said I didn’t belong, or that I’d only gotten to the competition because of who my dad was. That last was a rumor that circulated often, and it pissed me off like no other. My dad was a singer in a band, he had no ties to surfing, so when people acted like he’d somehow pulled strings to make my career happen, it more than stung.

But what those guys said made me feel like I was finally starting to belong in the sport.

There was a knock on the main door, and I stood from the bed to let room service in. They set up the food on the dining table and when they left I went to get Ari.

“Ari?” I knocked on the bathroom door. “Breakfast is here.”

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice was raw from crying.

“You need to eat,” I pleaded with her, shaking the door handle. “Ari, please.”

“Leave me alone. I need to be by myself right now.”

My fists clenched at my sides, and I groaned into the room.

I had never felt more helpless than I did at that moment. Leaving her alone, I took a seat at the dining room table. I barely touched my own food because I couldn’t feel hunger when I was so fucking worried about her.

Pushing away the plate, I stood from the chair and went back to the bathroom. I didn’t say anything to her. Instead, I sank to the floor with my back against the door.

Somehow, I knew she’d know I was there—that I was trying to comfort her in the only way I knew how.

Time passed, and she didn’t open the door.