Black Lies(90)

I will try my best. And I know, even settling into the chair, with Brant giving me a tight smile, that Lee will see right through me.

I take a deep breath, watch Brant as he lies down on the couch, and begins the hypnosis script.





When he comes out this time, it is different. The fight is dimmed in his eyes. He doesn’t immediately reach for me, doesn’t bound to his feet. He seems, suddenly, an old man in Brant’s body.

I don’t move from my spot in the chair. I sit there and feel like I am watching him die. When he speaks, his words are weak.

“I’m not smart. Not compared to you and Brant.”

I feel tears well and don’t know why—don’t know where they come from—except that my tear ducts know more about this situation than I do.

“But, I am assuming that you have a plan. You and him. A plan to remove me.”

I look down. Break the contact that stretched between us. Feel the drip of a tear as my body betrays me.

“What is it? The plan?” He sighs as if the weight of the question is heavy.

“You already know I mean to break up with you.” My voice wobbles when it speaks and I look back up at the man I may never see again.

“And then? When I fight it? When I come out of Brant’s body every time his conscience loses control?”

“I’m supposed to ignore you. Snub you. Make it clear how I feel.”

He laughs softly and sadly, a chuckle that runs fingers up my inner thigh and breaks my heart, all at the same time. “Your feelings for me show every time you look into my eyes. I used to think it was love for me. Now, I think it is your love for him.” He rubs a rough hand over the front of his pants. “I spoke to the doc, sometime after you and I f*cked in here.” I flinch at the words, spoken carelessly, as if the act had been nothing. As if it hadn’t ripped out my heart and left it on the carpet that now lay between us.

“You talked to Dr. Terra?” I frown, irritated by the fact that Brant and Dr. Terra have kept this from me.

“Yeah.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looks at me, the move closer making my heart beat a little faster. “He explained to me how you were dating me, f*cking me, just to keep Brant closer.” He stands, holding my eyes, and walks closer. “How every time you kissed me. Spread your legs for me. Got on your knees and sucked my cock, it was for him. Do you understand how that makes me feel?” He leans forward, places a hand on each arm of my chair and bends over me, my back stiffening as he lowers his face to my neck and inhales my scent. Buries his face in my hair and whispers my name as he smells me. “God, I’m gonna miss your smell.”

The tears flow down my cheeks, my control breaking into a thousand pieces as I clench my eyes shut and stay still, my fingers digging into the leather of the seat so hard that my hands cramp. I take a shaky breath, the action a sob, his head pulling back enough to place a soft kiss on my cheek, gentle imprints of lips along my cheekbones and chin, taking my tears before he takes a brush over my mouth. I open my lips but he withdraws, pushing off the chair arms. I feel his absence before I open my eyes, my vision clearing to see him standing before me, his hands tucked in his pockets, his face tight in a mixture of anguish and anger.

Anger. I understand it but I hate it. Understand, looking into his eyes, that he thinks I used him. Hell, maybe I did. I didn’t love him fairly and completely. I loved Brant. I loved f*cking Lee. I loved Lee’s imperfections when Brant was so complete, grounded, brilliant. I loved Lee’s wild side, my ability to justify that I was not my mother, that I had chosen life and a lower class life, even if it was just for long enough to eat wings and f*ck a boy and ride in a vehicle that was made in America. Did I use Lee? I stare in his eyes and see hate and love and hurt. I struggle to speak, but can’t find anything worthy to say.

“I loved you. I still love you. Even when I hate you, I love you. I always will. I’m not a smart man, but I know that.” He bites his lip in a way that tells me he is close to breaking. To crying. That motion alone brings a new wave of tears, my vision blurring and I rub a hard hand over my eyes, wanting to cement every last view of this man before I lose him forever. He blinks and his face tightens. “Tell me what you want. If you want it, I’ll leave. Not for him. I’ll never do anything for him. But for you, I’ll do it. I’ll f*cking kill myself inside of him.”

I want to tell him I love him. I want to tell him but am no longer sure that I mean it. No longer sure that I love him and not because he is a part of Brant. The guilt of what I have done is suddenly heavy, enormous. I want to tell him everything I know he wants to hear. I want to tell him the things I do love him for, but will only complicate this situation even more. So I say the right thing. The thing that will help Brant most. I say the words and wonder at the effects they will cause.