Page 19 of One Little Lie
I slam the cookie sheets down just as GG slides a port glass down the long, granite countertop.
“Little dab will do ya.”
“I don’t think so.” I still don’t know what the fuck happened last time I drank that shit.
“It will calm your soul, Fibby. Just enough so you can sleep without the dreams. Just don’t go helpin’ yaself to no more, or you’ll end up at the Packing House riding that mechanical bull.”
My eyes go wide. “D-Did I?”
GG’s scary cackle echoes off the stainless steel in every corner. “Not that I know of. Ya got yaself a good group that loves ya. Let them in, Fibby. It’s time. Secrets can kill a lesser man than you. Time to buck up and tell your story.”
If only it were that easy. GG knocks back her port glass, and I do the same. If she can handle a little shot of this shit, so can I.I hope.
“Make sure ya turn the oven off when you’re done. We’re gonna fix you right up. All those pieces you broke also have the power to heal your heart if ya let it. Gonna teach ya to love yaself so we can getcha that girl.”
My throat is itchy, and I blame the damn wine. “What’s in that stuff, anyway?” I finally ask just before she walks out the door.
“Just some herbs … a little elixir, if you will. But don’t ya go pulling a Lexi on me, too. A little skullcap and mugwort never hurt anyone.”
My mouth drops as she cackles and leaves me alone. I immediately pull out my phone to Google skullcap and mugwort. ‘Skullcap can be used as a mild sedative while mugwort is said to have psychotropic side effects.’Fan-fucking-tastic.
I stare between the door and the empty port glass. There’s nothing I can do about it now, so I finish my cookies, oddly thankful for the distraction. I’m already feeling less murderous.
* * *
I’m smiling. It is such an odd thought to have while standing in a hallway staring at a closed door, but it feels nice. I feel light, almost … almost happy. I’ve missed this feeling.
A giggle chokes off in the back of my throat, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing like a loon as I drop the plate of cookies on the floor, knock on Rylan’s door, and run into my room to hide.
I’m crouched down beside our connecting door when I hear her open hers and laugh. The sound is like the playlist to my childhood, and since I can’t bring myself to care about anything right now, I cross the room and pick up the hotel phone to dial her room number.
Laughter erupts from my belly when I hear it ring through the broken door. I’m watching it like a hawk when I see her face pressing between the six-inch gap.
Raising the phone from my ear, I point to her room. Rolling her eyes, she moves away from the wall, and I hold my breath as she picks up the receiver. Somehow, I feel safer knowing she’s tethered to the landline with the old coil of cord that won’t allow her to move about the room.
“Hello?” Her voice is hesitant, nervous.
“Verity.” Mine is breathless.
I hear her sigh through the phone, and I picture her dropping her head into her hands like she did as a teenager.
“Halton, what are you doing?”
“Please. Please don’t call me that.” My fist clutches the hollow ache in my chest. Suddenly, my clothes are suffocating, and I strip down to my boxers in an attempt to alleviate the feeling.
“What do you want me to call you?”
“I’ll always be your Hatty. Eat a cookie, Rylan.”
“I don’t eat cookies anymore.”
I hate that answer.
“Why?”
“Because they put extra weight right into my ass, Halton.”
“Hatty,” I growl.
