More Than Lies (More Than #1)(109)

If? Really, Braden? You tasted her. She tastes the same as you do.

My gut is in knots.

I grab my keys and start to head toward the door when it opens, and my roommates fly inside. I have to grab the railing at the bottom of the staircase so I don’t lose my balance from the sudden movement around me.

“God, dude. It wasn’t her! Tara. The chick that was killed wasn’t her!” Mason is talking ninety to nothing.

“Great. See ya.” My equilibrium returns, but when I go to walk past them, Matt grabs me by the arm.

“Great?” Matt asks, annoyed. “That’s all you have to say?” I don’t have time to explain that I already know Tara is alive. I need to find her, now. I shouldn’t have let her leave.

Tara’s father walks inside the door as I shrug out of Matt’s hold.

“Where’s my daughter?” His face mirrors the one I had not long ago. His world ended tonight, too, I see. So that’s what it takes to get Jacob Evans’ attention. She had to die for him to show emotion toward his daughter. A little too late if you ask me.

“I’m going to find her.” He’s blocking my path when I come to the door.

“You knew?” Mason asks me, bewildered. I nod, but I don’t go into any details.

“Shawn, the smell of vodka is pouring off you right now. You’re not driving anywhere right now. I lost one son because of an idiot drunk; I won’t let it happen to someone else’s. Let’s go. You’ll ride, and I’ll drive.”

He doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to drive, but I don’t say that. He has a point that I can’t refute.

“Fine.” I brush past him heading in the direction of his Mercedes SUV. The door is unlocked, and I get inside. Jacob joins me after a minute.

“What happened tonight? Your goddamn roommates won’t say shit.” I turn looking at Tara’s dad. I’m taken aback. I’ve never heard Jacob speak like that. “Speak, Shawn. I need someone to explain why I had to come identify a body that I was told was my daughter’s”

Damn. I’m not over hearing someone tell me Tara was dead, but I really haven’t given much thought to other people feeling similar things that I had before I laid eyes on her again.

“I messed up, okay? I really don’t need to hear it from you right now about how I’m not good enough for her.” I turn away, looking out the window.

“No, not okay. I’ve been through hell tonight. The same hell I went through less than six months ago. This has nothing to do with you being good enough or not good enough for my daughter. We can have that discussion later. Now, where do you think she is?”

“My parents’ house would be my first guess.”

“It’s a forty-five-minute drive. Tell me what happened tonight, and I mean tell me everything, Shawn.” And here I thought only my own father could make me feel like a five-year-old in trouble.

I breathe in, pulling one long stream of air into my lungs before forcing it back out. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t want to admit to him—or anyone else—the kind of pain I caused her tonight.

During the drive, I do what I do best by telling more lies. I don’t tell him jack shit, really. Only that we had a fight that caused her to leave. She was seen leaving with Jared, but that’s all I know because I didn’t see her actually leave with him. That part is the truth.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





TARALYNN EVANS





My finger hesitates over the round button I’ve been staring at for at least five minutes: the doorbell. It’s late, or extremely early, depending on how you look at it. I shouldn’t be here, but I don’t know where else to go. I can’t go to my parents’ house.

I press the button. I don’t want to be alone, which is why I didn’t just go to a hotel. I shouldn’t have driven from Oxford to Tupelo after the amount of alcohol I drank tonight. I’m lucky I didn’t get pulled over or cause a wreck on the way. My ass would’ve been thrown in jail for driving while intoxicated. Very intoxicated.

But the truth is, I need Pam. It’s wrong, in a way. She’s Shawn’s mother, not mine, but Pam has always been there when I’ve needed a shoulder to cry on, bandage my cuts, and teach me how to cook. Shawn cut me deep tonight. He stabbed the knife into my chest and ruptured my heart. He didn’t just break my heart; he shattered me into so many pieces that it’s likely I’ll never be whole again.

The light from the foyer comes on. Seconds later I hear the alarm being disabled, and the door opens. Bill is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a navy T-shirt with the Ole Miss logo across the chest.

“Taralynn, what’s wrong?” His brown eyes scan my face. Bill might as well be an older, un-inked version of Shawn. I want to burst into tears at the sight.

As if he knows I’m about to turn the water works on, Bill reaches for my wrist, takes it gently with his soft hand, and pulls me through the door and into his fatherly arms.

“Sweetheart?” It’s a question. He’s asking me to explain.

“Pam?” I request through my cracked vocals.

“Honey, I’m right here.” I go to move out of Bill’s hug but I don’t get far. He cups my face and looks into my eyes with concern.