The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

“Come in.”

I received a soft response after knocking on the last door. Opening it slowly, I opened my mouth to tell her I had her bag, but I choked on the words. Lila stood at the window, her back to the door, gazing out the shutters tilted just enough to see out without letting anyone see inside the room. I should have backed out of the room as quickly as possible because she wasn’t wearing anything but a black thong—and a smattering of bruises along her back and along the curve of her ass, her winged tattoo hard to make out in the mess of bruises.

All the moments over the previous weeks of feeling jolts of pain, the skin along my back burning at times, and a general tenderness when the kids jumped on me or Evie curled her fingers into my flesh when we made love … it all made sense. Yet, at the same time it made no sense whatsoever.

“Lila …” I whispered.

She startled, whipping around with one arm covering her breasts as she reached for a blanket on the bed with her other hand. “Ronin!” She gasped, eyes wide and feral as she wrapped the blanket around her body.

My hand released her bag to the floor by my feet and I clenched my fists. “Did he do that to you?”

Her head jerked back, eyes blinking in rapid succession. “What?”

I took a few slow steps toward her. “The bruises.”

“No.” Her head whipped side to side in several hard shakes.

I wanted to demand she show me her bruises as I didn’t get a close look to inspect them, but I saw them. They were there and unmistakable.

Her fear felt tangible in that moment as clearly as our connection rang endlessly in my ears, reminding me of the rules I broke and the price I’d forever pay.

I saw them …

I couldn’t ignore the truth. As much as I wanted to welcome all kinds of doubt, it had yet to make a case.

“Lila—”

“No! It’s not what you think. It’s not what you think you feel.”

I winced. “She told you.”

Biting her lips together, she nodded.

Secrets …

They haunted me at every turn—mine, Evie’s, and I feared Lila’s might too.

“Is it true?” Pain plagued her face.

I didn’t want her to feel bad or any sort of pain for something she didn’t do … something she couldn’t control.

“Yes. But I’m fine. You’re not. The bruises, Lila. You can tell me. I can help you.” I would help her. If that meant ending Graham’s life, I would do that for her because she was my wife’s best friend. And I sure as fuck didn’t save her on that mountain only to let her husband hurt her.

Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away before a single one broke free. “You can’t help me.” Drawing in a shaky breath, she tightened her hold on the blanket and tipped her chin up. “It’s not Graham. And … Evie can’t know. Not ever.”

“No.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “There’s nothing you can’t tell her. She’s your friend. And so am I. Let us help.”

After a swallow, she eased her head side to side, jaw clenched, eyes hard on me. “She can’t ever know. And I’m sorry. If this…” she narrowed her eyes “…this thing you feel from me is real, I’m sorry you have to feel it. If I could prevent it, I would.”

“Prevent what?”

Her face morphed into a mask—a numb, emotionless mask. Not a wrinkle of anything to read into her thoughts, her feelings. “I have leukemia.”

Cancer.

It took me several seconds to make sense of her confession. Bruising? Maybe. Like that? It seemed unlikely.

“That’s a lot of bruising for—”

“I slipped on our marble stairs at home. Honestly, I grabbed the railing. I landed on my butt and the edges of the stairs scraped along my back. It didn’t even hurt that badly at the time. But … I swear even a firm hug can leave bruises at this point. I try to be careful.”

Cancer.

Evie just buried her mom.

“It will destroy her,” Lila whispered.

I blinked several times as Lila’s words echoed my thoughts. It would absolutely destroy Evie.

“Lila … I’m … Fuck … I don’t know what to say.” I deflated. If those were bruises from leukemia and I tried to accuse her husband of abusing her, that would have made me a total asshole.

“Say you won’t tell Evie.”

“Jesus …” I parked my hands on my hips and turned my back to her, glancing up at the ceiling. “If I tell her, it will destroy her. But if I don’t tell her … will it destroy us?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

My chin dropped to my chest, and I shook my head slowly. “You’re sorry? For having leukemia? That’s so fucked-up, Lila.”

“It’s manageable. Maybe there’s nothing to tell. She never needs to know that you know. Not if I live … not if I die.”