More Than Lies (More Than #1)(110)

“I’ll give you over to my wife, but first I need you to answer something for me.” I nod my head in agreement. “Are you physically injured?” I shake my head, telling him no even though I feel as though I am. “My boys?” Again, I shake my head from side to side. Bill comes off tough when it comes to Shane and Shawn, but I know he loves them hard.

Bill releases my face, but grabs both of my wrists not allowing me to move from in front of him. “Darling, will you go make all of us some coffee?” He doesn’t turn to face Pam when he asks her this. Bill continues looking into my eyes. I feel as though I want to run up to my room and bury my head under the covers. He’s always been able to look at you in a way that tells you you’re in deep shit. I’ve seen it with Shawn a lot, and on occasion his brother, but never me. This is a first for me.

“Sure, I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.” Pam leaves. I don’t see because I’m still looking up at Bill. My eyes are frozen, locked with his.

Once Pam’s presence is gone, his eyebrows scrunch together.

“How much have you had to drink tonight? I can smell it on your breath, Taralynn.” He’s mad, like super mad. I can tell just by the look in his eyes. There is concern, but there is also disappointment.

“I . . .” Hell, what am I going to say? The truth is probably best in this circumstance. I’ve never felt the need to embellish a lie with Bill or Pam. They’ve already accepted me for me. I don’t have to be someone else or act a certain way when I’m in their house. I can be me. I’m comfortable just being me around them.

“I’m going to take that as too much to be driving. What in God’s name were you thinking? You know, or you should know, I would get up at any time of the night to come get you should you need it.” Damn, he really is disappointed. This is different from the way I disappoint my parents. This feels worse; so much worse. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Go upstairs, put on something else, pajamas, anything but what you’re wearing now.” Crap, I didn’t think about the short, really short dress I wore for Shawn’s birthday. A dress that did not pay off the way I had hoped. “Then I want you to come back down and tell us what’s wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” My voice is weak. Bill releases my wrists and I head toward the stairs. I don’t take but a step or two before Bill adds on to his demands.

“If you ever get behind the wheel of a vehicle after you’ve drunk too much alcohol again—” I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t. “—you won’t be able to sit for a week.” I nod my head so he knows I heard him. Apparently being an adult is not a factor here.

I race up the stairs. Once I’m behind the closed door of the guest bedroom that I’ve often wished truly was my own, I pull the dress over my head and toss the material onto the bed. I kick out of my heels and walk over to the dresser. My favorite pajamas are still here. I forgot them when I stayed here during Christmas. I put them on over my bra and panties then slip on a pair of flip-flops, afterwards I head out of the bedroom, down the stairs, finding both Bill and Pam sitting in the living room. Looks of concern mar both of their expressions.

What the heck do I tell them? Their son and I broke up so I came to get sympathy from his parents. That sounds pathetic.

I walk over to the couch and sit next to Pam. Bill is seated in a recliner a few feet away from us.

“It’s just how you like it. A little bit of sugar with a whole lot of creamer.” I smile, not full on, but I know she is trying to ease me into telling them what’s going on.

I pick up the small ceramic cup and bring it up to my lips. I doubt the coffee is too hot. Considering the amount of cream I like, I know it won’t burn my tongue. I gulp the liquid down until the cup is almost empty. I don’t savor the flavor by sipping when it comes to coffee. I drink it like it’s going out of style.

“Talk to us, Taralynn. What happened tonight that has you this upset?” Bill sips from his mug, then places it on the table and fixes his attention on me.

Going with honesty, I tell them a lot of what happened tonight. I leave out the part about Shawn cheating in the bar bathroom with that skank Holly. They don’t need to know those kinds of details. I mainly focus on my heartache and end up letting it slip that I’m in love with their son. They allow me to talk for a long time, and them just listening is helping. They aren’t offering up suggestions on how to get over him, but talking about it is removing a small amount of weight.

When I’m done, I’m lying with my head in Pam’s lap and she’s running her hands through my hair. It’s calming, soothing, and I think I could actually fall asleep. I’m tired. Then again it is sometime in the early hours of the morning. I’m used to being asleep at this time.

“Honey, would you like more coffee?”

“No, I’m okay.” A lingering question that I sometimes wonder crosses my mind. “Why do you call me ‘honey’? You’ve always done it, and you’ve never referred to anyone else as ‘honey’.”

Pam laughs. “Well, I guess you have Shawn to thank for that. The first day he met you, he said your blonde hair reminded him of honeysuckles. After that, every time I saw you, that’s what I thought about.”

Huh. He’s never told me that. Of course that was years ago; he probably doesn’t remember.