Page 51 of Unsaid Things

Chapter Twenty-One

After Gabby’s visit, Lance managed to bring up the subject of Abby’s mom a few more times. Whenever he did, Abby wouldn’t meet his eye, confirming each time that she was lying. At first it had been hard to stay calm and not demand the truth. But he got better at it, still determined that she choose to tell him.

The last time he’d asked, the week after they’d gone out to dinner to celebrate Chris doing well at the Regional Combines and getting invited to the Super Regionals, she’d fiddled with the hem of her sleeve and said that the tests didn’t show anything.

He wrinkled his brow, opening his mouth to press for more, but stopped himself. “Okay. So she’s okay?” Of course she was okay. Nothing had been wrong with her in the first place. He was sure of it. He wanted to push her into telling him nothing had ever been wrong and the money had really been for her brother for some reason. But he didn’t.

“Um, yeah. She’s fine.” She looked up from her sleeve, but still wouldn’t meet his eye. “Well, as fine as she ever is, anyway.”

“Yeah.” He hugged her, keeping up the pretense that he believed her. She held herself stiff against him. He’d noticed that anytime the subject of her mom and the money came up, she didn’t want him to touch her. At least it seemed that she felt guilty about lying to him. Not that that made him feel much better.

She shrugged him off. “I, uh, have a project due tomorrow, so I need to work on that.”

He let her go, still standing behind the couch, watching her get out a notebook and papers and settle at the kitchen table. Sitting down on the couch, he turned on the TV and found a rerun ofModern Familyto distract him, keeping the volume down so he wouldn’t disturb her.

That didn’t last long, though. “Um, Lance?”

Abby’s tentative voice drew his attention. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Uh, would you mind turning off the TV? Or watching something on your laptop in the bedroom? I’m working on a translation project and the TV in the background is really distracting.”

He hit the power button on the remote, surprised. She didn’t normally do translations, and when she had to read for her Spanish classes she went into the bedroom if he was home. “Of course. What class is that for?” He sat up straighter so he could see her over the couch.

She looked down and fiddled with the papers on the table, moving them around. “Oh. Um, well, it’s not for a class.”

Curiosity piqued, he stood and went over to the table. “Oh yeah? What’s it for?”

“Doctor Ramirez helped me find work translating documents. Mostly simple, boring stuff like birth and death certificates.” She shrugged, still not looking up at him. “It pays decently.”

As she spoke, Lance’s brows drew together even more, and he pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, hands resting on the table. “Why are you worried about getting more money?”

She glanced at him and looked back down, fiddling with her pen. “I wanted to replenish my savings.”

“You know you don’t have to worry about rent.” He reached for her hand when she started to tug at her lower lip.

“I know. But …” She looked around the room like the words she wanted might be written on the walls before her gaze finally—finally—settled on him, her eyes meeting his. “It’s … hard. I like having that cushion. It makes me feel better, more secure. Like I can take care of myself if I need to.”

“But, Abby, I can—“

She shook her head and cut him off. “I know. I know you make plenty of money, and you’ve told me a million times. Iknow. But …”

He squeezed her fingers, trying to be encouraging. Maybe if she finished that sentence he would finally understand her need to keep their finances separate, her need for independence. “But what?”

She pulled her hand from his, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap. “But …” Drawing in a deep breath, she seemed to be trying to gather her courage along with it. “I know you love me. And I love you. But beyond that we haven’t made any promises to each other. We haven’t … Nothing’s guaranteed. Even the people that are supposed to always be there for you don’t live up to their end of the bargain.”

His hands clenched, his stomach twisting at the implication that he might bail on her. “Abby.” He put as much weight behind her name as he could, hoping to get her to look up at him.

She did. But her mouth was tight, and she shook her head again. “I know what you’re going to say, Lance. I know. But it’s not about you. No, I don’t think you’re going to cut and run with no warning. But …”

“But.” His voice was dark now, and he stood, unwilling to listen to this. “But you’ll always judge me against your bastard father and asshole brother.”

Hurt tinged her blue eyes when she looked up at him. And he felt like a dick, but he didn’t care right now. That she compared him to them and thought he might ever treat her like that pissed him off. She spread her hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness.

With a shake of his head, he looked away. He needed to get out of here and clear his head before he said something he regretted. This shouldn’t piss him off as much as it did. It was nothing new. He knew that deep down she always made that comparison, always created some kind of fallback plan just in case. Just in case he left. That’s what that meant. Just in case he abandoned her.

And here he was with a ring stashed in the closet, waiting for more than two months to propose. But would it ever work if she wouldn’t trust him? But there was that other idea in her statement—the idea that a promise might make her feel more secure. Would it really? And how could he expect her to make that kind of commitment when she still wouldn’t tell him the truth about where her money had gone?

He needed to think, to figure things out. And he couldn’t do that here, sitting still. “I’m gonna go work out. I can’t—I need—“ He blew out a breath, trying to formulate a sentence, and he looked back down into her hurt face, noticing the moisture gathering along her lower lids. She blinked rapidly, and he softened. “I’m going to go so you can finish your work without me bothering you. I’ll text you when I’m done, okay?”

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