Behind Every Lie(15)

I should’ve felt grateful, but instead the grit of irritation slid beneath my teeth. What was wrong with me? Why was I being such an ungrateful bitch?

I picked up the butter knife and jabbed it into my croissant, slopped strawberry jam in the slit. Suddenly a strange mist oozed around my eyes. Electric pulses oscillated along the damaged skin on my left arm.

I stare at the blood cooling on my hands. It is everywhere. The harsh iron scent clings to the back of my throat, making me feel like I will vomit.

And clutched in my left hand is a knife.





eight

eva




I JUMPED UP, the chair legs scraping hard against the kitchen floor. Pain flooded my head, making me press my fingertips to my temples.

“What’s wrong?” Liam was there instantly, clutching my good arm. Light slanted through the window, defining his prominent jaw, sharp nose, the scattering of freckles over his cheeks. Worry lines were carved like quotation marks around his mouth. “Do you remember something?”

“I was at my mom’s house.” My hands were shaking. “I was standing in her living room. Liam, I was holding a knife!”

I set the butter knife on the table and looked at the bandage on my palm. The wound was suddenly hot, pulsing. “It must be how I got this cut.”

Liam’s mouth buckled. “Babe, that isn’t possible. You cut your hand on the broken pottery. When I came into the garage, you were already bleeding. I helped you bandage it up. Don’t you remember?”

“No. I …” Muddled memories darted around.

I looked at Liam. He was frowning, his mouth pursed, brows scrunched, his eyes full of pity. I closed my eyes. I didn’t know what I remembered, what was real and what wasn’t. I felt the knife, heavy in my hand. But was it real? Was it my hand?

Once again, I couldn’t trust myself.

“You’ve had a traumatic injury.” Liam wrapped his arms around me. “Your brain just needs time to heal. It’s completely understandable you’re mixing your memories up.”

I leaned into Liam. At least I could rely on him. It was Liam who’d found me staring at a bottle of wine at a local restaurant two years ago. I’d only been on the island a few months and was contemplating drinking it, then another, and another, on the verge of wanting it all to end.

Liam was sitting on the outdoor patio near me, clearly waiting for someone. After a while, it became obvious his date wasn’t coming. It was an unseasonably cold evening, and I was shivering in my thin coat. He offered me his jacket, and I offered him a glass from my bottle.

I’d been thinking about what had happened, regretting my every decision, so when he asked if he could join me I had no defenses left. It was his face—so calm and caring. He had this amazing quality to the way he listened, like he was interested in everything I had to say.

A few months later I got a flat tire on the outskirts of town, and he’d been driving by. He pulled over and put the spare on, then called a tow truck to take my car to a nearby service station. It was a relief to let someone take care of everything for once.

It took a while before I felt strong enough to go out with him, but when I did, everything just clicked like it was meant to be. He was older than me, but he had all the confidence and maturity that came with it. He was funny and charming, and eventually I started to forget the night my life fell apart. I owed Liam all of that. Not just my safety, but my sanity too.

“I think I’ll go in to work,” I said. That’s what Mom would do, I decided. She had that whole British stiff upper lip thing going on. I would just keep moving like she would have.

“But the doctor said you need to rest,” Liam argued.

“I’m fine, I swear. Besides, I know you need to work. I can tell that new building is stressing you out.”

Liam looked surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was so obvious. There was one tiny code violation, and now the building inspector’s being a pain in the ass.”

“Will you have to take the building down?”

Liam laughed. “No, of course not! He’ll come around. I know how to deal with these guys. I am not losing this project.” He moved to get his coat. “Come on, I’ll drive you to the gallery. Just promise you’ll take it easy today.”

“I can drive myself.”

He gave me a look. “How? Your car isn’t in the garage.”

I hesitated, trying to sort through the fractured pieces of my brain. But there was no memory there. Andrew said the paramedics had found me near Mom’s house. Had I driven there?

Liam gathered our plates and took them to the kitchen sink. “You really shouldn’t be driving anyway.”

He was probably right. Pain radiated around my head, and my arm was buzzing. I hurried upstairs and swallowed a few ibuprofen, then grabbed my purse and my quilted coat, since my green corduroy one was still missing.

In town, I kissed Liam good-bye and made my way toward the gallery, listening to my voice mail as I walked. The first one was from Andrew, his voice low and tight, the way it used to get when he was little and trying not to cry.

“Eva, have you talked to the detective yet?” There was a long pause. “They’ve cleared Mom’s house. I can’t … I can’t go there yet. The cops gave me a list of crime scene cleanup companies. We need to choose one, okay? Call me.”