Chapter Four: Another Version of the Truth
1532 Words
I was still staring at the photograph when Gavin moved beside me.
His arm reached across the bed, searching for the space where I had been lying.
“Harper?”
I locked my phone.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“A little after two.”
He pushed himself upright against the headboard. The sheet slipped to his waist, but the sight of him no longer distracted me.
Not with his wife’s face glowing behind my closed screen.
“Why are you dressed?”
“I’m leaving.”
His expression changed immediately.
“What happened?”
I held out the phone.
Gavin studied the photograph of Natalie in his arms for no more than a second.
Then he sighed.
“That’s from last night.”
“I know.”
“So whoever sent it is watching my house.”
The fact that he focused on the sender instead of the photograph made something twist inside me.
“You told me you slept in the guest room.”
“I did.”
“She’s holding you.”
“Natalie had a panic attack.”
I stared at him.
“She gets them sometimes,” he continued. “Eli found her crying in the kitchen and came upstairs to get me.”
“You never mentioned panic attacks.”
“Why would I?”
“Because you tell me she’s cold. That she doesn’t care where you sleep. That your marriage has been dead for years.”
“It is.”
“She doesn’t look like she thinks it’s dead.”
He climbed out of bed and pulled on his jeans.
“One difficult moment doesn’t repair a marriage.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her you loved her?”
His hands stopped at his belt.
“No.”
The hesitation had been small.
But I saw it.
“You had to think about that.”
“I’m tired, Harper.”
“So am I.”
He crossed the room and stood in front of me.
“I helped the mother of my children calm down. That’s all.”
The mother of my children.
He always used those words when he needed his wife to sound untouchable.
Not loved.
Not wanted.
Simply connected to him by something no one could question.
“And afterward?”
“I went upstairs.”
“To the guest room?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
I wanted to believe him.
That was the humiliating part.
Even after the children, the photograph, and every careful omission, I still wanted him to give me an explanation I could survive.
Gavin reached for my waist.
I stepped back.
“Who took the picture?”
“I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t one of the children?”
“Maybe Eli.”
“And someone got it from his phone?”
“I said I don’t know.”
His irritation cut through the softness he usually used with me.
I picked up my purse.
“You should go home.”
His face hardened. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Punish me because someone is feeding you pieces of my life without context.”
“They wouldn’t have anything to send if you had told me the truth.”
“I told you my marriage was over.”
“You forgot to mention the wife still cries in your arms.”
“I didn’t forget anything.”
“Or the two children.”
His eyes flashed.
“I admitted I should have told you.”
“You admitted it after I found out.”
“That doesn’t mean everything between us is a lie.”
“I don’t know what anything between us means.”
He went silent.
I walked to the door.
“Harper.”
I didn’t turn.
“I love you.”
The words still hurt.
Maybe because part of me still believed them.
“Then tell her about me.”
“I told you this has to be handled carefully.”
“That means no.”
“It means not tonight.”
“It’s never tonight.”
I opened the door.
“Take me home.”
The drive back to my apartment was silent.
When he stopped outside my building, Gavin tried to kiss me.
I turned my face away.
“Don’t come upstairs.”
“Are you ending this?”
I looked at him.
I should have said yes.
Instead, I opened the door.
“I don’t know.”
---
By noon the next day, Gavin still hadn’t called.
He had sent three messages.
**I love you.**
**Don’t let someone else destroy this.**
**We’ll talk after my shift.**
I read them until the words stopped meaning anything.
Then I noticed what was missing.
He hadn’t promised to tell Natalie.
He hadn’t explained who was sending the photographs.
He hadn’t apologized for lying about his children.
He only wanted me to wait again.
I hated waiting.
I had spent most of my life waiting for adults to decide where I would sleep, how long I could stay, and whether I was worth keeping.
I wasn’t going to sit in my apartment while Gavin decided which version of his life I deserved.
So I went back to the firehouse.
The bay doors were open, but the engine was gone. The station was quieter than it had been the night before.
Cole stood near a workbench, cleaning a piece of equipment. He looked up when I entered.
His expression darkened.
“You again.”
“I’m not here for you.”
“Good.”
“Where’s Gavin?”
“On a call.”
I folded my arms. “When will he be back?”
“When the call is over.”
“You’re incredibly helpful.”
“And you’re incredibly comfortable showing up at a married man’s job.”
Heat rushed into my face.
“I need to speak to him.”
“You have his number.”
“He isn’t answering.”
Cole returned his attention to the equipment.
“That sounds like a problem between the two of you.”
I should have walked outside.
Instead, I asked, “Did you send me the photographs?”
His hands stopped.
“What photographs?”
“His family. His wife. The picture from last night.”
Cole slowly looked at me.
“I didn’t send you anything.”
I studied his face.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“You’re the only person who has confronted me.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m hiding behind anonymous messages.”
“Gavin thinks it’s you.”
“Gavin thinks whatever makes his life easier.”
The answer came without hesitation.
I tightened my grip on my purse.
“You knew about the children.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
Cole’s expression turned incredulous.
“You knew he had a wife.”
“Stop saying that like it answers everything.”
“It answers enough.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He set the equipment down.
“What do you want from me, Harper? Sympathy because the married man you chose wasn’t completely honest?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Then stop coming here demanding answers.”
“I came for Gavin.”
“And that’s the problem.”
Anger burned through me.
“You don’t know why I stayed.”
“I don’t need your childhood story or whatever excuse he helped you build.”
The words struck harder than he could have known.
My chest tightened.
Cole saw the reaction, but he didn’t apologize.
Not yet.
He still believed I was exactly what I looked like.
A woman who knew enough and stayed anyway.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you saw his wife and children, and you still spent last night with him.”
I froze.
Cole’s eyes dropped to my wrinkled dress.
The same dress I had worn to the station.
Of course.
He had simply noticed.
“That’s none of your business.”
“No. It’s hers.”
The engine turned into the street outside, its siren silent as it approached the station.
Cole stepped closer before the truck entered the bay.
“When he tells you another lie,” he said, “don’t pretend you had no choice but to believe it.”
I lifted my chin.
“And when his wife finally finds out, don’t pretend you did everything you could to stop him.”
For the first time, Cole had no immediate answer.
The engine rolled inside.
Gavin climbed down from the passenger side and saw me standing with Cole.
The anger on his face wasn’t directed at his friend.
It was directed at me.
And suddenly, I understood something I should have understood much earlier.
Gavin didn’t mind lying to both of us.
He only minded when his lies met in the same room.
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