Conceal

Never in my wildest dreams did I think those words would leave her mouth.

That’s when the floodgates finally burst. The tears pour down her face like water over a dam. No longer lone tears, but now, a never-ending current flows from her.

The liquid streams down her cheeks, and without a second thought, I stand and close the distance between us, sitting beside her and pulling her into my arms. She sobs into my chest, her entire body shaking from the emotions she’s held inside her.

I’m not sure how long I hold her for, but eventually, she calms. I feel her small hand on my chest as she pushes back and looks up into my eyes.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she whispers. “I’ve kept it inside all this time. I’ve never even said the words to myself.”

I reach my hand out and stroke the tear that still glistens on her cheek.

Although I want to ask questions, need to really, I don’t. I let her lead us through this maze to the truth. I let her set the pace, no matter how hard it is for me to do so.

She shakes for a minute before she sits up straight and squares her shoulders, a way to give herself strength. I take her hand in mine and squeeze, telling her without words I’m here to listen.

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” she finally says, and I bob my head in agreement.

“I met Riley two years ago. It was summer, and I had just gotten home from graduate school. I was walking through town, and I bumped right into him. Literally.” She closes her eyes and shivers. “Even when I first met him, something was dark about him. But he was so dashing and mysterious, attentive too. I think I fell in love with him the first day. It was a whirlwind romance; we were engaged within a month of meeting each other. The thing was, it happened so quick I didn’t see the signs. None of them. He gave me the love and attention I was searching for and it didn’t dawn on me to doubt it. We were married within three months. Still with my head in the clouds, I never noticed any of the signs that something was off, even when his family didn’t come to the wedding. Even when I never met his friends. Even when I knew nothing about his past. Now . . . I see that all of those were a big red flag, but I spent so much of my life and adolescent years alone after my mother died. I just was hungry for love.”

“But your father . . . ?”

“He was never the same after the accident. He drank . . . He always drank, before and after. It wasn’t until I got married and told him he couldn’t be there until he sobered up that he got clean. That’s why his death was such a shock.”

“I don’t understand. How did your father die?”

“A few months after I married Riley, my father died from alcohol poisoning, but I swear he had stopped drinking. Riley said he was a drunk, and he had no sympathy about it. I should have known then, but still, I was blind. Maybe it was the fact I was now an orphan, or maybe it was denial, but it never made sense. After my father died, I inherited the estate. My parents were old money. A large benefactor in my town, they owned the steel plant for generations that employed everyone.”

“What happened, Willow?” I ask when she pauses, and I can see she’s clearly shaken.

“I couldn’t stop thinking something was wrong with Dad’s death. I kept telling Riley I wanted to exhume the body . . . One day, I was supposed to go to a meeting. With the company in my hands, I needed to show my face. Riley had been handling the business, but I wanted to take over. He wasn’t happy, not just for my pursuit over my father’s death, but also because I wanted to take my place at the helm. He stayed behind, refusing to go with me.”

She trembles like a twig blowing in the wind. “Can I have a drink?”

I nod and stand, grabbing a decanter of scotch. She shakes her head. “Dad always drank that.”

I place the glass down and head into the kitchen to grab ice, a shaker, and the tequila. She waits on the couch, still shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. Once I chill the tequila, I hand her a glass.

“I shouldn’t drink after everything,” she mutters to herself.

“It’s just one.”

“It’s never just one,” she says. I don’t understand what she is talking about, but I don’t ask. She’s battling enough demons without me pursuing it. “I actually never left. I had forgotten a file. He didn’t know I was home. He didn’t know I could hear him.”