Page 14 of Open Secrets
Lyle’s eyes met mine. “I’ll be here,” he said, steady as stone.
I managed a small smile before slipping inside.
I should’ve known. He was here. He would never have made me go through this alone.
Chapter Four
Lyle – Twenty-Four Years Ago – Galveston, Texas. 2001.
I stayed seated, elbows on my knees, staring at the ugly tile floor like it was MTV. Maria had been back there half an hour already. Half an hour of me doing nothing but sitting here, useless.
I kept telling myself I didn’t want kids. Not now. Not when I finally got to breathe for the first time in my life. I was nineteen. I should have been out with friends, figuring myself out, screwing up in ways that didn’t ruin lives. Not stuck in some small town with a baby I couldn’t raise. Not tied down when I was barely learning what freedom felt like.
But knowing that and sitting here while she was in there? Two different things.
For years, I thought freedom meant getting out from under my parents. Mom homeschooling us, keeping us on this tight leash like the world was out to get us. Anna hated it worse than I did, but at least she pushed back. I just nodded along, stayed quiet, memorized Bible verses, did my drills at the kitchen table. Then we moved to Gatesville, and suddenly I was sixteen and getting dropped into a real school for the first time.
It was like stepping into sunlight after years in a locked room. Loud hallways, football games, kids who didn’t look at me like I was the freak that never left the house. And most important, Maria.
And yes, it was still strict at home. Dad ran the place like a base, even when he wasn’t on one. He barked orders instead of asking questions, and I followed because that’s what you did. Stand tall, speak clear, no excuses. Freedom was never mine.
Now I finally had it. I could drink when I wanted, drive where I wanted, leave town without anyone checking in. I had boot camp on the horizon, a future laid out in front of me that was mine to own. I was finally catching up on being a teenager—staying out too late, blasting music, kissing girls I shouldn’t. It felt reckless and messy, and it felt good.
So yeah, I didn’t want kids. I wasn’t ready to hold something that depended on me for air, not when I barely knew what to do with my own.
Still—my leg bounced against the chair, and my stomach twisted. Because while I sat here trying to convince myself we were too young, Maria was the one actually doing it. She was the one in there, not me. And that made me feel like shit.
I kept thinking about the look on her face when she told me. The way her voice shook, like she already knew what she had to do, like she’d made peace with it. I should have said more. Should have done something. Instead, I was stuck out here, sweating through my shirt, trying not to imagine what was happening past those doors.
It was messed up. I was relieved she didn’t want to keep it—relieved and grateful and scared out of my damn mind. But there was a part of me that hated myself for feeling that way.
So I sat, useless, hands knotted together, waiting.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened and the same nurse who took Maria in stepped out.
“Mr. Connelly?”
I nodded, throat dry.
“Ms. Silva is done with the procedure. She’s in recovery, if you’d like to see her.”
I nodded again, pushing up too fast from the chair, legs stiff from sitting so long. Recovery. Of course there was recovery. What the hell did I think—that she’d just walk out after… after it happened? Idiot.
I followed the nurse down a short hall, the antiseptic smell sharp enough to burn. She pushed a curtain aside, and there she was. Maria.
She was in a gown, pale against the white sheets, hair fanned messy on the pillow. My chest pulled tight at the sight of her like that, so small, so still.
“Hey,” I said, my voice low, careful, like if I spoke too loud I’d break her.
Her eyes fluttered open, heavy, and she whispered, “Hey.”
I eased into the small chair beside her bed, every muscle stiff with the effort not to shake. “How you feeling?”
She blinked slow, words slurred with exhaustion. “I’m fine.” Her head lolled slightly, voice drifting. “Don’t you have to go?”
I shook my head, leaning forward. “Told you I’d stay. Besides, I told them I have a family emergency. What are they gonna do—kick me out?”
Her mouth tugged into something almost like a smile, weak and fading. “You can go, Lyle. It’s done.”
