Only Trick

“Darby, what’s wrong?”

I can’t do it. The pain is too great. My phone falls to the bed and my body slumps as the raw emotions annihilate my heart.

“Shh … I’ve got you.” Tamsen holds my shaking body. She grabs my phone. “You need to come, now.” Tossing the phone aside, she lies next to me, soothing me … helping me reach for my next breath. Tamsen is an angel from God, and tonight she’s saving me.

*

My eyes feel like they’re about to explode; I can only open them partway. My head? It already has. Even the slightest movement brings on the percussion. I groan, sitting up. Tamsen’s gone but there’s a note.

At work. Ibuprofen on the bed stand. Call me if you need anything. He took the red eye, but I made him stay on the couch until you’re ready. FYI – your mom’s necklace—it triggered his memory, ALL of it. Love you, -T

I suck in a breath, it feels like my last. He wasn’t sick; he was in shock. The shards of my heart stir in my chest, making new cuts … new pain. It’s love, hate, fear, anger. I slide my legs to the edge of the bed and freeze.

Trick.

He’s on the floor, curled up on his side, head resting against his arm—sleeping. The love I have for this man is enough to last a thousand lifetimes, but the pain is like a drop of blood on the whitest sheet. No matter how big the sheet, that little red dot will always stand out, and if it’s your blood, it can never be ignored.

His eyes open with a slow blink. An eternity passes before he looks up at me and when he does, it’s a wilted flower begging for water, a dying love, and pain … so much pain.

I stiffen even more as he sits up on his knees. His hands move to my legs.

“Don’t … please.”

His eyes fall to the floor in defeat and he nods.

I bite my lips together and pray for strength to hold it together, one broken piece at a time. Yesterday’s revelations haunt me, visions of my husband with Rachel. Life is so cruel.

“I forgive you,” I whisper, and he looks up slowly while I blink away the pain. “But … it’s not enough.”

His eyes gloss over with tears.

“How did you recognize my mom’s necklace?”

His brow furrows. “Does it matter? You don’t need any more pain. I can’t … I won’t do this to you.”

“Did Rachel wear it? Did my father give it to her?”

He nods.

I look up and shake my head. “What did she say the LC stood for?”

“Love Cal.”

I laugh. Unbelievable.

“Lucy Carmichael. It stood for Lucy Carmichael!” I yell with more anger than I intend to.

Trick flinches. “I’m sorry … I didn’t know.” Each word is barely a whisper.

“Why was she wearing it?” I sob.

“To remind me that she belonged to another man.”

My husband fucked my stepmom while she wore my dead mother’s necklace. This can’t be happening.

“She said you killed that woman.”

His jaw twitches. “It was a drug overdose, period.”

“But you gave her the drugs.”

“No,” he says through gritted teeth while standing. He paces the room, running his hands through his hair. “Rachel gave her the drugs. Rachel gave me the drugs. I wasn’t a fucking drug addict until I met her!”

“You could have said no.”

“She blackmailed me!”

I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

He stops, resting his fists on his hips. “I didn’t show up at her office to fuck her. I showed up to rob her. There, I’ve said it. She saw me in the park and told me when I was done doodling like a child that she had a real job waiting for me. It pissed me off so I went to even the score. When I got to her office I waited for the right opportunity. She stepped out for a few moments and that’s when I took her wallet from her purse. I didn’t want the money, I just wanted to piss her off in return. But when I sat back down with her wallet in my coat pocket that’s when I noticed it.”

He shakes his head. “It was stupid of me not to have looked in the first place. She had a security camera in her office—proof that I took her wallet. Before I could make another move she came back in with a security guard and confronted me about what I did. I tossed the wallet on her desk and she dismissed the guard. She said she wouldn’t have me arrested if I agreed to work for her, so I did.”

His gaze meets mine. “She took photos of me, but they were never used. She paid me in gifts that kept getting more elaborate. I went to fancy parties with her and that’s when I started doing drugs—drugs she provided. Eventually the drugs and alcohol led to—” He closes his eyes.