Broken Lies: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 1 Page 17

I feel again, the flesh of my breast ballooning around my finger as I dig the tip deep into my skin.

  I hit the hard ball and swear, tears filling my eyes.

  I knew this would happen. Haven’t I known it for years?

  The shrill ringing of my cell phone from the bathroom vanity causes me to jump. Stumbling from the shower, I wrap a towel around me and close my eyes, my tears coming harder, when I see Eli’s name on the screen.

  I knew this would happen. I’ve known it all along.

  Ignoring his call, I hold my towel tighter and walk into my room. The cool air slaps me in the face as my thoughts rush forward, tripping over each other in their demand to be considered.

  Call Dad.

  No, don’t do that. You’d break his heart.

  You don’t know anything yet. It could be benign.

  Yeah, right. Hello naive, meet ignorant.

  Tell Eli.

  No, don’t tell him anything. He won’t understand.

  Charlie?

  What time is it in Chicago?

  My phone beeps and I glance down at the screen.

  Reminder: Call Dr. Salinas.

  Closing my eyes, I exhale, tears burning in their desire to escape.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I scroll through my contacts and press Send.

  * * *

  Me: Hey, I’m feeling like crap. I’m going to crash. Enjoy your dinner with Helen and I’ll see you in the morning.

  Eli: You okay? Let me take you to the doctor I suggested. You’ve been fighting this sinus infection for too many days.

  Me: I’m fine. I just need a good night’s sleep.

  Eli: I’m finishing up now. I’ll come to you.

  Me: You’re sweet. I would love nothing more than your naked Adonis body in my bed, but I don’t want to get you sick. You’ve got a stacked week with shooting.

  Eli: I don’t care. I don’t want you to be alone when you’re not feeling right.

  Me: I promise to message if I need anything. Swear it.

  Two minutes tick by slowly, like I’m watching each grain of sand drop through an hourglass.

  Eli: Okay, babe. I’m here if you need anything — ANYTHING. Now get that fine ass in bed and have sweet dreams.

  Me: XOXO

  Sighing, I scroll to Dad’s contact info.

  Me: Hey Daddy. Hope you’re having a great day. I know we’re supposed to catch up tonight, but I’m fighting a bug and can’t keep my eyes open. We’ll chat this week for sure. Miss you. XO

  I hate texting my dad since I know it requires an extra step on his part to have the text processed and read aloud, but I also know if I talk to him tonight, I’ll break down. I’m not ready to tell him yet.

  I crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling, knowing sleep won’t find me.

  It doesn’t.

  Not for many hours as I lie in the darkness, my mind racing.

  The stupid white paper with my BRCA results taunts me from across the room, tucked into my desk drawer. Except I know it’s there, flashing like a neon sign that won’t burn out.

  I need to tell Dad. We’ve talked weekly since I came to the Seychelles, but our conversations have been more like check-ins instead of chats. Only now, I need to check in with the most important news of my life.

  Slow your roll. It could be nothing.

  Oh God. What if this is it? I’ve finally gone and done it. I’ve fallen for a Hollywood megastar, and now I have to let him go.

  I have to tell Eli the truth.

  Hell no, I’d mess up his entire film, his career. I know, just know, if he knew the truth, he’d want to help me. To be here for me.

  Except he can’t. He’s in the middle of production on the film that’s going to change his life.

  Jesus. I need to talk to Charlie. Yes, tomorrow I’ll call Charlie.

  I finally doze off around 3AM, but when my alarm sounds at five sharp and my body shrieks in protest, my heartbeat thumping in my temples, my throat burning when I swallow, I roll over and send a message to Eli instead of standing from bed.

  Me: Hollywood, I need to push our morning training until tonight. 6PM?

  Eli: Baby, how sick are you? What’s going on? I’m coming down.

  Me: No, it’s okay. You need to focus on today. You have that scene with Brooke and you can’t be late. Plus, I’m all yucky germs.

  Three minutes.

  Me: Eli?

  One minute.

  And then, a knock.

  Shit.

  My heart swells and sinks and shimmies in the pit of my stomach.

  Pulling myself from the warm recesses of my marshmallow cloud mattress, I stumble to the door, knowing my face is splotchy, my eyes swollen, and I look like the most undesirable woman on the island. Still, I pull the door open and almost laugh when Eli gasps.

  Gasps.

  He steps inside immediately, his right hand going to my forehead, his opposite arm circling my waist. “Zoe, you’re burning up.”

  Is that why I feel so crappy? I can’t just deal with the worry of knowing I have cancer, but I also have to spike a fever?

  Closing my eyes to stem the emotions already welling inside of me, I lean into Eli’s touch. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

  “Fuck that, Violet. What do you need?”

  “Sleep.”

  “A doctor.”

  “Fine. Sleep and then a doctor.”

  “Damn it.” Grumbling, Eli walks me back toward my bed and tucks me in like a small child, pulling the comforter right up to my chin and fluffing the pillows.

  The gesture reminds me of my mom and I grin. “You’re going to be the best dad.” The words pop from my mouth unexpectedly. Even though my smile doesn’t waver, my stomach twists painfully. He is going to be the best dad, but his future will have nothing to do with mine.

  Eli’s tapping out a message on his phone. He fiddles around my room, placing a bottle of water on my nightstand along with my laptop and Kindle. He adds a clean hoodie and fuzzy socks to the end of my bed. When his phone beeps, he finally glances up. “You have an appointment at 4pm. Harlow can take you.”

  “I’m really fi—”

  “Don’t say your fine.” His eyes harden. I hate the flare of concern that flickers in their depths. “I should have realized sooner; made you see a doctor. Jesus, you’ve been dealing with these cold symptoms for a whole week.”

  “Since the morning on your kitchen counter.” I smile at the memory.

  “Baby, please. Just take care of yourself. Consider our workouts for the week cancelled.”

  “What? No way.” I bolt up in bed, my arms reaching out for him.

  He moves to my side and sits next to me, his fingers toying with the ends of my bird’s nest hair. “You need rest. And I can’t even properly take care of you. So please, just let me do what I can to make sure you get better.”

  His words plummet into my stomach, like a kick into reality. He thinks he can fix me. Make me better. Help me.

  This is just the beginning.

  Of what?

  The end.

  The words fade into my consciousness with a deliberateness that scares me, and I flinch.

  Eli sighs, pulling the blankets around my shoulders, thinking it was a chill. “I’m sorry I can’t stay with you.”

  “I’m fine. Go. Report back with all the gossip,” I tack on to keep up appearances. I’m not freaking the fuck out.

  I’m not.

  He smiles, pressing two Advil into my palm. “Take these and close your eyes. If you need anything at all, Harlow is around all day.”

  “Thank you, Eli.”

  “Feel better, my Violet.”

  Once he leaves, I toss back the pills and down some water. Nerves and thoughts and too many feelings to decipher ping-pong through my mind and body, bringing me closer to exhaustion.

  When sleep finally claims me, I float away gratefully.

  * * *

  I wake up to the sweetest message of my life.

&nb
sp; Eli: How are you doing, babe? Thinking of you. X

  He sent me a kiss. A kiss that would have made me light up like a Christmas tree three days ago. Today, though, it causes anxiety to swell in my throat like a balloon.

  Dr. Salinas and her office were incredibly understanding when they called me back after my nap. In fact, they helped me secure an appointment with a specialist in Victoria for this afternoon.

  I send a quick message to Harlow, letting her know I won’t need to see the doctor Eli arranged as my own doctor came through. I spend another five minutes convincing her I don’t need her to come with me.

  Pacing around my room, I glance at the time again and triple-check that my new insurance card, the one with all the medical coverage, is tucked into my wallet.

  Another thing Eli has done for me.

  My body temperature swings wildly from hot to cold, shivers working up and down my spine. My throat is scratchy, my head throbs, and everything aches.

  Finally, it’s time. Relieved to be seeing a doctor, I drop my wallet into my purse and leave my hotel room.

  The drive to the doctor’s office is short. The taxi driver — a humorous man who recently became a grandfather — distracts me for most of the trip with entertaining stories about his first grandson. I nod and smile but my mind is foggy — too many thoughts traveling in too many directions.

  When we pull up to the office, a small blue house with a neat white sign out front, he turns in his seat and looks at me, his eyes deep with compassion.

  I bite my tongue hard, until the taste of rust fills my mouth.

  It’s already happening. The pity. The concern. And from a stranger no less. It will be worse when the people I love wear the same expression, only theirs will be laced with hurt from my lies.

  “Can I wait for you?”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

  He nods, passing me a slip of paper with a number scrawled across.

  “Taxis are scarce in this part of town. If you need a ride, no matter the time, call me.”

  “I will. Thank you…”

  “Peter.”

  “Peter.” I offer him a smile. I pay the fare, slip from the cab, and walk through the door of the little blue house.

  * * *

  “What did the doctor say?” Charlie’s blue eyes blaze with concern as she chomps on the ends of her hair. I know she’s trying to keep it together, but her voice cracks and my heart drops.

  “That I should have been going for regular screenings.”

  “And?”

  “They won’t have the results for several days.”

  “But they saw something?”

  I shrug, looking away as my eyes fill with tears.

  “Zoe Claire. What did they see?” My best friend demands an answer, knowing that I’m not being entirely honest.

  “I don’t know. But the doctor, she says the lump feels irregular. She doesn’t want to say anything until the imaging comes back, but it’s probably —”

  “No.”

  “Charlie. I always knew this is —”

  “No.” Charlie cuts me off again, glaring at me. “You don’t know anything yet. Nothing worth panicking over.”

  I try to swallow past the lump in my throat, but a strangled sound erupts instead. On screen, Charlie winces and her first tears fall.

  “Don’t you dare cry.” I point at her, my tone accusing.

  “I can come to you.”

  “No, you can’t,” I snort, the idea of Charlie blowing a month’s worth of tips on a flight is almost more absurd than me having breast cancer.

  “I can.” She nods seriously, the damp ends of her ponytail sticking to her neck.

  “Charlie, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re already doing it, Zo. You’re living your life.”

  “I need to call my dad.”

  Charlie sighs, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. “You do.”

  “Will you, I don’t know, check on him?”

  “I’ll bring him tea tomorrow morning,” my best friend promises. Ducking her head, she swipes the back of her hand across her eyes. “You should tell Eli.”

  “No.”

  “Then come home.”

  “What? Are you serious?” My mouth drops open. “You’re the one who’s been telling me to live my life.”

  “You have no support system there, and you’re refusing to build one.”

  “I don’t know anything yet,” I snap back, arguing her point from moments earlier. How the hell has this conversation grown so confusing?

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just…God, I’m worried about you. And I miss you.” Charlie forces a smile, her voice breaking.

  “I know.” I feel my anger melt away as quickly as it soared. Deep down, I know Charlie is just reacting to my news. She’s scared for me, like any best friend would be.

  “And the cold symptoms? Are they related?”

  “No. I actually have an ear and throat infection. I’m relieved the antibiotics are already kicking in because I feel better than I did this morning.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  A knock sounds on my door and we both freeze. “Eli.”

  Charlie swears, shooing at me. “Go. Call me later. After you talk to your dad. I love you.”

  “Okay. Love you. ‘Bye.” Disconnecting our call, I close my laptop.

  Squaring my shoulders, I wince as Eli knocks again.

  “Zoe? Are you okay?” Genuine concern laces his tone.

  My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. He’s worried about me. And he doesn’t even know the worst of it.

  I dash my knuckles over my eyes and fluff my hair at the roots.

  Glancing at myself in the mirror, I blanch. I look awful.

  “Zoe, please. Open up.” Eli smacks his palm next to the doorframe.

  I pull the door wide open, look up into the most gorgeous face in the world, and allow myself a long moment of drowning in eyes that care about me for all the wrong reasons. “Eli, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey.” He frowns, his brow furrowing as he steps into my room. The door closes behind him, and I jump from the noise. Eli’s frown deepens. He cups my cheek, his thumb swiping once over my cheekbone. “Are you okay? Why haven’t you answered my texts?” He looks me over as if expecting to find an injury, blood gushing from some gnarly cut, somewhere on my body.

  “Sorry, really. I just, time got away from me.” I offer a smile that I know he sees through because he doesn’t smile back.

  Instead, Eli tilts my head to the side. His eyes rake over my face with precision, doubt coloring his irises. He knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t want to call me on it.

  He doesn’t want to believe I’m deceitful.

  “What’s going on, Zo? Harlow says you cancelled on the doctor.”

  I nod, running my palms up his arms until they rest on his shoulders. “I spoke to my doctor. Turned out she has a colleague here.”

  “And?”

  “And, I have an ear and throat infection. I’m taking antibiotics.”

  Eli’s body sags, relief flooding his features. He grips me hard, pulling me flush against his body. “Thank God. I mean, I figured, but I don’t know. When you didn’t answer my messages, I started to worry that something was really wrong.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur against his chest, breathing him in, letting his comfort soothe me even though I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve him.

  “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to feel better.”

  “I am,” I lie, wrapping my arms around him. “Want to grab dinner?”

  He glances down, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re hungry?”

  I nod.

  “Great, yeah. Let’s go up to my room and get some room service. I miss sleeping next to you.”

  “I missed you too.” I admit, lacing my fingers with his.

  As we walk down the hallway toward the elevator, I feel Eli studying me out of th
e corner of his eye. He still has a million unasked questions, reservations, and concerns.

  All of which will continue to go unanswered.

  24

  Eli

  “You’re being weird.”

  Zoe looks up, the fog clearing from her eyes as she zeroes in on my face, only inches from hers. “No, I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “Am not.”

  Sighing, I pull her body over mine, letting our legs tangle together. We woke up fifteen minutes ago and while Zoe’s been trying to pull me from bed to workout, I’m trying to convince her to rest. Except she’s not resting. Not really.

  Her mind is going a million miles a minute. Thinking, analyzing, debating.

  I have no idea what the hell has her in such a tailspin.

  “You going to tell me what’s really going on?” I try again, ignoring the edge of panic that’s grown with each passing day. Yeah, I know my girl’s been sick. But it’s more than that. She’s putting distance between us, pulling away, so slowly a less broken man wouldn’t notice it.

  I’ve been burned before. And I know all the signs.

  The excuses. The faraway glances. The lies.

  Right now, Zoe’s giving me all three.

  Zoe rolls her eyes, offering a cheeky grin. Her skin is still sallow, her eyes tired. “I had an ear infection, Holt. And now I need my client to get his ass in gear so I can do my job.”

  “Back to Holt now?” I question, hating how insecure I feel when two weeks ago, I was barreling through the walls I built to protect myself, too desperate to reach Violet than to care about how she could hurt me.

  “Hey.” Her hand squeezes mine. “I’m kidding. Why are you taking everything so seriously?” She slips from bed, tugging on a sports bra and leggings.

  “Because I thought we were.”

  She frowns, the tiniest line appearing between her eyebrows. I want to reach out and run my thumb over her smooth skin, iron out the wrinkle.

  “Becoming more serious,” I clarify.

  “We are.” She averts her gaze.

  “Then tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demand, losing my patience as all the thoughts I’ve been fighting off surge forward. “Is it another guy? Is it too much too soon? Do you hate working with me? Have we blurred too many lines? What is going on? It’s more than you just having an ear infection. Be honest with me.”