All the Lies We Tell (Quarry Road #1)(72)

If she hadn’t died, Jennilynn would still be gone. Off to college, home only for holidays and vacations. Her seat at the table would still be empty. Her side of the room, relentlessly clean. The bathroom, always free.

It was Alicia’s turn to be the one to go away, but how could she? She was the only one left. If Jennilynn hadn’t died, if she’d just gone off to college, and it was now Alicia’s turn, it would’ve been the natural order of things, but everything was a mess and had been for a year, so even though the college acceptance letters had been piling up, the scholarship awards coming in one by one, there was no way Alicia could possibly leave home.



“It wasn’t until much later—recently, even—that I figured out a few things,” Alicia said. “First, that my parents had not gotten over losing Jenni. They just got through it. I hadn’t realized that was a thing, you know? That sometimes you don’t get over something. You just get through it. And second, that my decision to stay home and go to business college instead of leaving them made no difference, in the end. They didn’t need me to stay for them. They were ready for me to leave, to get on to the next phase of their lives as parents of children who’d grown up. And third, that they did me no favors by not insisting I go away to school, get a four-year degree. I just think they were so numbed by what had happened, so focused on their grief, that even though it was a year later, they couldn’t really make the right choices. And I . . . didn’t want to go away. I’ve held on to the idea for a long time that somehow I wasn’t able to go, but the truth is, I made my choices back then because it was easier to stay than try to figure out what I wanted to be. So here I am.”

Nikolai tucked his arm behind his head as he stretched out his legs to prop his feet on the coffee table. “Is that such a bad thing? Being here?”

“You tell me.” She pulled the crocheted afghan over her knees, against the house’s chill. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait to get away from here. You were out of here right after you graduated, and you never came back.”

“Of course I came back. I’m back right now.”

She shrugged. “Not really. Not without waiting every second to leave again.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He twisted to look at her, the movie they’d put on about half an hour ago forgotten.

“Isn’t it?” Alicia shrugged again.

Nikolai frowned. “I’m not going anywhere right now.”

“Right.” She looked toward the television but couldn’t remember what they were even watching. “What happened? I missed something.”

“We don’t have to watch this.” He pressed the remote to pause the movie.

She wanted to curl up against him with her head on his chest and listen to the sound of his heart beating. She wanted to cover them both with this ugly blanket and keep the world away. She did not want him to leave—that was the stupid truth of everything—and since there was no way she was going to ask him to stay, all she could do was bite her tongue until the pain was enough to choke her into silence.

“Again, already?” She made her tone light. Teasing. “You’re going to wear me out.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

She frowned, looking at him. “Oh. You don’t want to?”

“I always want to,” Nikolai said. “That’s not it.”

“So, what, then?” This tasted like the beginning of an argument, a flavor Alicia knew well when talking with Nikolai.

“Do you really feel like I’m just waiting to leave?”

She withdrew, putting some space between them. “Yes. I do.”

“Alicia . . .”

“Aren’t you?” she asked, not sure what she expected him to say. Or even what she wanted him to say. “Just hanging around here counting the days until you’re off to someplace far more exciting?”

She watched his expression and waited for him to answer, but he didn’t.

“It’s what we knew from the beginning. It’s the only reason why we’re doing any of this at all,” she added quietly. “Isn’t it?”

Nikolai frowned, then scrubbed a hand across the top of his head. “Yeah. It’s what we agreed on. For sure.”

There was a certain relief in hearing him say it, so she didn’t have to wonder anymore. “So . . . when?”

“I haven’t decided. There’s a lot to do around the house. And something’s up with Galina. I’m not sure what.”

“So you’re staying until you’re finished with the house repairs. For your mom.” She couldn’t fault him for that. Not really. It wasn’t the reason she wanted to hear, though.

Nikolai didn’t answer at first. “You know how she is. She could decide tomorrow that she doesn’t want to bother with anything new, or that she’s going to head back to South Carolina. Or Arkansas, or, hell, the moon for all I know.”

“Gee, I wonder where you get it, then.” She meant to sound light and teasing but failed. She cleared her throat and took up the remote to start the movie again.

When he stretched an arm out along the back of the couch, she let him pull her closer. When she put her head on his shoulder and he stroked his hand along her hair, she let him do that, too. When he turned to tip her face to his to kiss her, she gave him her mouth as eagerly as she ever had, without hesitation or reservation, because this time could be the last, and she knew it the way she’d known it every other time he’d ever kissed her.