Two Truths and a Lie
1441 Words
CHAPTER 10
Ethel POV
The parking garage was cold at three in the morning, the kind of cold that seeped into bones and made my breath visible in small clouds. I wrapped my arms around myself, but it wasn't the temperature that was making me shiver.
Lyke leaned against his car, looking everywhere except at me. His jaw was tight, that muscle jumping beneath his skin the way it did when he was choosing his words carefully.
"Talk," I said again, my voice steadier than I felt. "What did he mean about you being brothers?"
A sharp and bitter sound escaped Lyke's throat, and it echoed off the concrete walls. "Brothers? My love, that man was barely conscious there. Did you see him? He could hardly keep his eyes open."
"He seemed pretty focused when he said it." I took a step closer. "When he looked right at you and called you 'brother.'"
"He's high on morphine." He finally met my eyes, and his expression was so sincere it made my chest ache. "The nurses told me he'd been hallucinating for days. Calling people by wrong names. Yesterday he apparently thought his doctor was his father."
My certainty wavered. I'd seen everything no doubt. But...
"It didn't sound like a hallucination," I countered. "It sounded very specific to me."
"Come on, that's what morphine does." He pushed off the car, closing the distance between us. His hands found my shoulders, warm and solid. "It makes people convinced of things that aren't real. I've seen it in cases;clients who swear up and down that they remember conversations that never happened, accusations that make no sense."
His thumbs traced small circles on my shoulders, a gesture so gentle it made me want to lean into him.
"Morris is dying," he continued, his voice softer now. "His brain is shutting down. You can't possibly trust anything he says."
"And Jennifer?" I pressed. "What about Jennifer?"
Something flickered across his face, too fast for me to read. Pain? Guilt? It was gone before I could be sure.
"Jennifer was..." He sighed. "She was his girlfriend years ago, before you. She died in a car accident."
"He made it sound like you had something to do with it."
"I know." His hands dropped from my shoulders, and I felt the loss of his warmth immediately. "He had always blamed his brother for her death. He was supposed to drive her home that night, but I guess he had too much to drink, so she drove herself. She crashed on the way home."
His voice cracked on the last word, and my heart clenched.
"Morris never forgave him for not driving her," Lyke said, staring at the concrete floor.
" How do you know about this? ” I raised a brow.
“I was his lawyer, the case was really messy.” So when he brings up Jennifer, it's not about murder or conspiracy. It's about the guilt he has carried for eight years. "
I watched as this man, who was always so controlled, looked devastated. His shoulders curved inward while his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him, but something felt off.
"Why would he call you brother, though?" I asked, hating how my voice shook.
"I don't know." He looked up, and his eyes were dark with something that looked like desperation. "Maybe in his confused state, he was trying to say I was like a brother to him? We were college roommates after all..." He gestured vaguely. "Before everything went wrong. Before Jennifer. Before he became whatever he is now."
It sort of made sense in a way that made my suspicious mind quiet down to a dull murmur instead of a scream.
"Ethel." He stepped closer again, and this time his hands cupped my face. His palms were warm against my cheeks. "Look at me."
I raised my gaze to see his blue eyes, which were a sharp contrast to my green eyes.
"Do you really think I'd lie to you about something like this?" His voice was low and intimate. "I am trying to help you clear your name."
"I don't know what to think," I whispered. "It's three in the morning, and I'm standing in a parking garage being told that my dying ex-husband's accusations are just drug-induced rambling."
"Because they are." His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. "And I understand why you're scared and suspicious. You've been lied to before. He probably lied to you for years, but I'm not him."
My eyes burned. I was so tired of everything. Tired of the questions without answers. Tired of not knowing who to trust. Tired of feeling like I was standing on ground that might give way any second.
"How do I know that?" I asked.
"Because I'm here." His forehead touched mine, and Sophie's breath caught. "Against all odds, I am the only lawyer who was brave enough to take your case. Now, I am here at three in the morning, in a hospital parking garage, explaining myself instead of walking away. Because I care about what you think. I really care about you."
His breath was warm against my lips. My hands found his chest, I didn't know if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
"I need you to trust me," he whispered. "Can you do that?"
I closed my eyes as I thought about Morris' face, his knowing smile, the way he'd said 'brother' like it was a secret only he and Damien shared.
But I also thought about Lyke showing up at my interrogation when I had no one. About him posting my bail. About marrying me to keep her out of jail. About the way he'd held my hand walking into that hospital room tonight.
"I want to," I said finally.
"Then do." His lips brushed my temple. "Trust me. Let this go. Morris is dying and desperate to cause trouble even on his way out. Don't let him win."
I opened my eyes to see him looking at me with such intensity, such apparent honesty, that my remaining doubts felt small and paranoid.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe grief and stress and fear were making me see conspiracies where there were none.
"Okay," I heard myself say and Lyke exhaled, his breath warm against my skin. "Okay?"
"Yes." I nodded, more to convince myself than him. "You're right. Morris was out of it. I'm just... I'm tired and scared, and I'm looking for problems that aren't there."
"Hey." Lyke's hands tightened on my face, making me focus on him. "Your fears are valid. Your questions are valid. I'm not dismissing them. I'm just asking you to trust that I'm telling you the truth."
The way he said it, so earnest, so understanding, made the last of my suspicions feel cruel. I was being unfair. He'd been nothing but good to me, and here I was, ready to believe the word of a dying man who'd cheated and probably poisoned himself over the man who'd saved her.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have—"
"Shhhh… Don't apologize." His smile was soft. "You're allowed to have questions. You're allowed to be scared. Just... let me help you through it instead of shutting me out, OK?"
I nodded, and this time when he pulled me into his arms, I went willingly, pressing my face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and telling myself that this was real. That he was real. That I could trust him.
"Let's go home," he said into my hair. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow everything will look less terrifying."
"Promise?" My voice was muffled against his shirt.
"I promise."
We drove back in silence, but it was a different kind of silence than before. Lyke hand found mine across the console, threading our fingers together while I stared out the window and tried not to think.
But as the city lights blurred past, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered: What if it wasn't?
I squeezed his hand tighter and pushed the thought away.
I was choosing to trust him.
I had to, because if I couldn't trust him–if this marriage, this partnership, this growing feeling between us was built on lies–then I truly had nothing.
And I had learned the hard way that sometimes believing a comfortable lie was easier than facing a devastating truth.
Even if, deep down, some part of me was still listening for the other shoe to drop.
- Writer
