Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2) by Carey Heywood Read Free Book Online Page A

overtime, it isn’t pumping the blood through her body like it should. This causes a backup in her liver. It’s a domino effect from there with swelling and pain, not to mention pushing against and inflaming her stomach.
    She’s taking water pills, which are helping with her discomfort. The fact that she feels any pain at all with the amount of pain medicine she’s on is insane. She can barely move now without losing her breath. That’s the hardest part for me, listening to her struggle to breathe. Even advanced medicine and breathing machines don’t help much. Her lungs and heart are shutting down. All we can do is sit back and watch.
    When I was eight and they first explained to me that she was sick, I thought I had the power to fix her. Earlier that week I had gone over to Jake’s house to play. Reilly was watching Snow White and the only part I saw was the huntsman bringing the queen a heart.
    So I drew heart after heart and gave them to my mom. As young as I was, I didn’t understand that my paper hearts wouldn’t fix what was wrong with her.
    “Are you going to sit in your car staring at the house all day?”
    My head jerks to the left. So lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice my dad walk up holding an umbrella. Shaking my head, I kill the engine before unbuckling my seat belt.
    He waits for me as I get out of my car and close the door behind me. “Thanks, Dad.”
    Together we make our way to the front walkway, his arm coming around so his hand can squeeze my shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out if it was the rain that was keeping you in your car or our talk the other night.”
    When we reach the front door, he shuts the umbrella and leaves it leaned up against one of the wicker chairs on our front porch.
    “I was lost in thought,” I admit.
    He pulls open the storm door. “Good ones I hope.”
    There, in the foyer of the house I grew up in, I ask, “Have you heard any gossip about me recently?”
    My dad has never been one for talking about anything besides sports or politics, and both piss him off, so my question makes him uncomfortable.
    “I try to avoid gossip, son.”
    I look past him to the den that we converted into a bedroom for her, relieved to see the door shut. “Did you hear anything about Sydney Fairlane and me?”
    He pushes his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. “There was talk of a soda being dumped over your head.”
    Grimacing, I nod. “I deserved it and am trying to convince her to give me another chance.”
    At that he looks up, his brown eyes focusing on mine. I inherited my height and build from him, and my coloring from my mom. My father, Thomas Mackey, is tall and dark-haired. He also has brown eyes and is naturally tanner than either my mom or me.
    My mom, given her lack of strenuous activity, stayed fair. I managed to build up a tan with all the time I spent outdoors either running, hiking, or surfing.
    “I was not aware there was a first chance,” he says.
    It’s an effort not to look away. “I screwed up.”
    He’s the one who breaks our eye contact by turning his head to look at the closed French doors of the den before looking back at me. “This have something to do with Kacey Albright?”
    “Yes.” I take a breath. “Sydney and I had something going before I asked Kacey to marry me. It took watching Kacey nearly lose Jake for me to recognize my mistake. This whole time I’ve been fighting it, refusing to admit I felt something for her.”
    When he doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Do you think I should tell Mom about her?”
    He closes his eyes. When he opens them, he answers my question with one of his own, “Why would you do that?”
    My head gives a small jerk. “Why wouldn’t I tell Mom about the girl I care about?”
    “Seeing as how she poured soda on your head, it seems your feelings are not returned. Why upset your mother now?”
    Upset my mother?
    “How would telling her I’m interested in Sydney Fairlane upset her?”
    He crosses his