The Truth of a Liar Page 16

  “Carter,” I say from the backseat. He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for doing this.” My voice breaks and I have to look away before crying.

  “Don’t thank me yet, honey.” I look back at his reflection and he grins. “It’s not easy living out there. You’ll be cut off from the world, essentially.”

  “How are we to communicate?” Lark asks. I know it’s difficult for him not being the one in control. He flexes his neck and the vein running on the side pumps under his skin.

  “We brought radios. Chris, Evan and Liam have some, as well. You’ll be able to get a hold of them whenever you need.”

  Lark accepts his dad’s answer and turns to the window, watching the blur of green as we fly down the road.

  “Where are they?” I ask. All three of them were packing up the truck when we left. I figured they were coming with us.

  “Logan wanted the boys setting up a base camp at the edge of the woods where the cabin is. The other team will meet them there in a couple hours.”

  “And there’s someone watching over my mom and dad?” I clarify. I’ve only asked about twenty times in the past hour, but I need to be sure they’re safe.

  “Yeah,” Lark speaks up, his voice incredibly sensitive. He shifts in his seat and his navy eyes find mine. “They were twenty minutes out when we left. Logan deployed a few of Alabama’s units to take care of Greg and Cindy. It’ll be okay, Little One.”

  I gulp and swallow down my worry. A small bit of sweat breaks out on my neck but I ignore it, letting it trickle down my spine. Lark winks and smiles his white, toothy, reassuring grin and turns back around in the front seat. I rest my head on the window and try to discount my ever-growing anxiety. I try and try to push it down but it bubbles to the surface.

  It’s not easy for me to let others make decisions for me. Most of my life—or, should I say all of it—consisted of me being responsible for myself. Mom and Dad never really forced me to be one certain way. They gave me the reins to my life and allowed me to go in any direction I desired. I’d like to think I made some pretty great choices, and even though my life has somewhat spiraled into a mess, I wouldn’t trade it. I live in fear and have the instinct to question what’s lurking in the dark, but the darkness brought me Lark. The cruel events peppering my seemingly normal life brought me a light brighter than I could have ever imagined.

  My lids become heavy and within seconds, and I’m asleep.

  “Little One,” Lark whispers in my ear and I snuggle closer to his voice. “Sweetheart.” He laughs, kissing my forehead. “We have to get out of the truck. We’re walking from here.”

  From where?

  I crack my eyes open, the sleep heavy in my body. It weighs me down and I have to force my limbs to move. “H-huh?” I stutter. “Where are we?” I rub under my eyes and blink a few times. As Lark becomes clear, I stretch my stiff limbs and take a second to look around. The early morning sun is threatening to break the horizon, and by the looks of it, we traveled through the night. We’ve pulled off of the main highway, and we’re parked in the middle of the woods. I can’t even hear the hum of the traffic anymore. We must be far from civilization. I couldn’t escape if I tried. Lush green trees and tall, plush grass surround the truck and when I step out it hits just below my knee. I pull my brown leather jacket tighter around my body and my hair whips around my face. Lark tucks it behind my ear and settles his hand on the back of my neck. He gazes in my eyes with warmth and smiles his radiant grin. The anxiety behind his eyes is evident, but I can’t help but feel safe knowing he’s here with me. I think I’d be worried if he wasn’t a little concerned. Like he knows I need him in this moment, he brings his lips to mine and for a second, nothing else matters. The scary world I’m living in fades away and it’s just him and me. His soft mouth opens and mine follows suit. His tongue strokes mine and I bite his bottom lip. He growls, pulling me closer to his body. I wrap my arms around his torso and step in between his legs. His other hand travels up my arm and lands on my neck, joining its twin. His minty breath cascades over my face when he pulls back. His eyes are bright and they look over my every feature like he can’t get enough of me.

  He pulls me into a hug and encases me into his solid grasp. His right hand cups the back of my head and he holds me close, his heart beating in sync with my own. When he lets go of me, I lay my head on his chest taking in a deep breath, thinking words I’ve never thought once about a guy before. I love you. I pull back with a swift whoosh and pray Lark doesn’t have some vampire special power and can hear my thoughts. Lord knows he can easily read my expressions. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my emotions from him.

  I bow my head and look down, hoping to hide the cascading blush on my cheeks. I love him? Oh, good god, I love him. I look into his bright, blue, eyes and smile. I do. A lot.

  I clear my throat, the odd sensation bubbling in my neck. Carter clears his throat from the other side of the truck, mocking me, and I spin on my heel, startled. “Oh, goodness, Carter,” I screech, my cheeks growing even warmer than they were before. I totally forgot he was here. He wiggles his eyebrows, clearly delighted at my reaction and laughs.

  Lark chuckles behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. I look back at him and shake my head, grinning. He massages my shoulders and kisses the back of my head. “Dad, we’re going to head out. I’ll radio when we get to the house.”

  Carter gives me a playful wink and nods, looking at Lark. “Sounds good, son. I’m going to wait here till then.”

  Lark pulls my suitcase and his backpack out of the bed of the truck. He tosses the backpack on his back and I take hold of the suitcase, ready to lug it into the woods.

  Can I just make it known I think it’s so bizarre I have to hoof it to some random cabin in the woods? My life, I’m telling you.

  We move to the front of the truck and Carter meets us, looking directly at me and I set my suitcase on the ground. “It was such a pleasure to meet you, young lady.” His eyes shine bright, genuine fondness shadowing his expression. “Keep this one safe.” He laughs and points at Lark. He steps forward, and I’m surprised when he brings me into his arms and hugs me. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me by bringing my boy back into my life,” Carter whispers in my ear. He pulls away, stunning me.

  I don’t say anything, I don’t know if anything would come out of my mouth if I tried. Words wouldn’t be sufficient in this situation. I smile and nod, stepping back, feeling incredibly lucky to have made a connection for a broken family. I didn’t do anything really, but the fact that he’s grateful shows more than I could have ever hoped for.

  Carter moves to Lark, clasping his shoulder. With his jaw tight, Lark nods, understanding Carter’s silent words. It’s beautiful. I wish there was a way I could recreate this scene on stage. My heart swells and tears multiply in my eyes. I bite my lip and force myself to keep it together.

  Lark sniffs and wipes his eyes. “I love you, Papa,” he says, his voice so small and quiet, I almost don’t hear him and Carter breaks down. He sobs and brings Lark into his arms. They embrace with such fierceness and I don’t think I’ve seen something so magical in all of my life. The words, break both of them. Young Lark, so tender and desperate to be loved, finally has a father who truly appreciates him.

  “You stay safe. You hear me?” Carter says with unwavering conviction as they pull apart. He points at Lark like a father would and chuckles. “Your mom and I won’t lose you, again.” He looks over at me. “You either, missy.”

  I laugh and wipe my nose, truly humbled by him. I attempt a sloppy salute, which makes both of them laugh and say, “Yes, sir.”

  They give each other one more hug, and I look down to pick up my suitcase. When my eyes travel back to them, Carter’s speaking low into Lark’s ear, whispering something I can’t make out. When they let go of each other, Lark’s cheeks are a shade of red that I’ve never seen and he nods, looking down at his feet, a brilliant smile forming on his lips. I
grin and tilt my head in wonderment.

  Lark takes a couple steps towards me and removes the suitcase from my hand. I give him a quizzical look but Lark simply kisses my head and grabs my hand, leading me past Carter and into the throng of trees. We utter goodbyes and within minutes we are deep in the woods, only the crunching of leaves filling the air.

  The farther we walk, the more I feel myself leaving behind a world I once knew. A world I thought was warm and safe. The closer we move to the cabin, the nearer my future becomes. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. There are so many outcomes. I’m stepping into an unfamiliar world. I’d like to believe that what’s to come will be for the best.

  “You okay over there?” Lark asks with a small smile. His breathing is much more controlled than my own. His velvet voice breaks through my muddled worries and I keep my eyes on my feet. The rocky terrain isn’t something I’m used to, I can see myself falling on my face.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him. “Is it completely crazy to admit I’m excited to be here?” It’s a weight lifted off my shoulders to be away from civilization and cell phones. Hell, I could do away with the Internet for a while. It’s a nice change. I’m ready to step away and figure out what the hell is going on with my life.

  “It’s not crazy, Rowan,” he replies softly. I look over toward him and he’s got his lively navy eyes shining straight at me. His knuckle subtly brushes my hand, sending shivers all over my body. “But I’m here.” He finally grabs hold and clasps our hands together. “I’m always here.”

  I gulp and scream at my heart to keep her panties on. Who would have thought? Lark Hawthorne, the ultimate bad guy, went ahead and bulldozed his way into my heart.

  We walk down an unmarked path for what feels like hours, but in reality it was probably only one. I’m cold and sweaty when a log cabin finally comes in to view. This trek is a horrible reminder that I need to start working out more. My cardio ability is just sad. I don’t go to the gym every day like most girls in New York. I’m lucky to get in once a month with my crazy schedule. The only thing I do that’s even closely related to cardio is my self-defense class.

  All while Lark walked here with both of our heavy, bulky bags. He’s Superman. Obviously. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. I mean, seriously? That’s just not human. I grumble under my breath about joining a gym when we get home and a pang of apprehension hits me hard. Lark doesn’t live in New York. Oh god. No, one thing at a time, Rowan. Focus on right now and deal with that shit later.

  His smile is blinding as we walk up the pathway to the porch and it’s something I’ll stock in my memory forever. That little Lark filing cabinet is quickly filling up.

  “Are there going to be people outside keeping watch on the house?” I ask. It seems odd that we’re out here alone.

  Lark nods. “They should be here within the hour.”

  “Do you know how many?”

  “Four, just enough to keep eyes on all sides of the house. You won’t see them, though. Hopefully no one will.”

  The trees clear, and nestled in the middle is a cozy log cabin. It sits just off a small lake and when I get a full view, it’s breathtaking.

  I gasp at the scene before me. With a hunter green trim and front door, the house should be showcased in a magazine, not hidden away from the world. I didn’t think I could feel such a connection with something like a house, but I’m instantly put at ease. The cabin lays there undisturbed, like a precious animal sleeping during hibernation. The smells are pungent and strong, yet fresh and sharp. The pine trees surrounding the small cabin create a woodsy scent that wafts through the air while the chilled breeze cuts through it, pinching my nose. A too big chimney sits atop the roof and my cold hands tingle at the thought of sitting by it to get warm. It looks like a fairytale, brought straight out of Disney. All it needs is a bed of snow and icicles hanging from the weathered roof.

  The stairs creak under our feet as I we make our way to the door. Lark slides the key into the lock and with a rustle of wood the door opens. I follow behind him and he sets our things on the couch in the living room. The logs are visible on the walls inside, and the dark blues, reds and greens are the perfect combination. The cabin is small and quaint but the inside is lavish yet lived in. Enormous rugs printed with different woodland animals lay on the hardwood floor. The leather furniture is covered in plastic and has a light layer of dust on it, and I wonder how long it’s been since someone has been here.

  I think it’s even colder inside the house and Lark immediately walks to the fireplace, lighting the logs to life. I sit down on the dusty brown recliner and watch as he strokes and coaxes the fire to burn. He kneels down on the floor and blows into the big space, and the flames roar to life. With quick precision, he slides his jacket off his body and the muscles in his back move and tense as he works the fire. I bite my bottom lip and watch with engrossed attentiveness. He claps his hands once when he’s satisfied and turns to me smiling. We high five and he stands, proud of himself. Thank god he knew what he was doing because if I were here alone, I’d be freeze my ass off. All of the years in Alabama never prepared me to start a damn fire. Go figure.

  He signals for me to hold on a moment, and he radios to his dad, letting him know we’ve arrived.

  “Let me show you around, love,” Lark says, taking my hand and shoving the radio into his pocket. My heart flutters. He’s never called me ‘love,’ before. The scorching heat from Lark’s angry fire quickly fills the room and I shrug off my own jacket, leaving it behind. He leads me down a wide hall, filled with pictures of animals and random family photos. “The kitchen.” He points to the small room. It’s filled with a wood burning stove, a small fridge and a four-person table. Little trinkets adorn the spaces on the walls and on the countertops. I let go of Lark’s hand and inspect a small moose-looking figurine. It doesn’t look store bought and I smile.

  “I, uh,” Lark stammers. “I made that in school.” His cheeks flush and he looks down, embarrassed.

  “It’s adorable,” I admire and I set it back on the granite countertop thinking about Lark making it for his mom as a small child.

  “How does the house already have food?” I ask. From what I thought, no one had been here in years. There are at least a couple inches of dust on every surface in the house. But someone was nice enough to clean kitchen.

  Lark opens the fridge, taking a peek inside. “Logan had Chris get here before us and stock the house.”

  “Oh,” is all I say. “Are Liam, Chris and Evan going to be out there?” Thinking about them sitting outside in the cold makes me worry.

  Lark walks to the sink and stares out the window. “A few teams deployed, so I’m sure they’ll be around. I have no idea who will be here. I won’t even know when. All I know is there will be guys outside at all times.” He turns and walks to me, touching my cheek with his hand. “Want me to call and check in on them later?”

  I smile. “Yes, please.” They’ve become like family. I’d like to know they’re okay.

  “Okay. We can do that.” He grabs my hand again and takes me farther into the house. “Two bedrooms,” he tells me. “Guest bedroom.” He motions to a room with a queen sized bed, and a deer head hanging on the wall. He must not care too much about that specific room because he pulls my arm and leads me to what I believe is the master bedroom. “Our room,” he says, his eyes shining. My heart drops into my stomach and my eyes go wide. His playful eyes dance and he watches me walk around the room. It has to be the biggest room in the house. Even larger than the living room. Up against the back wall is a grand king sized bed. The fluffy white linens look new and I drag my hand down the fabric. It’s clean. My eyebrows furrow and I wonder how that’s possible. He must have had Chris clean this, too. I shake my head and keep looking around. They’ve added a room that sits just off the master and I walk inside to see a grand piano. It’s closed but the dark wood and bright white ivory and black keys are gorgeous.

  “What is this room?” I ask in awe
as I spin around, admiring the perfection. Every wall is made entirely of floor to ceiling windows bringing the outside in. It’s truly majestic. I sit down at the piano and place my hands on the keys, looking to Lark.

  He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks at his feet. “It’s my music room.”

  His music room? I nod and look down at the keys, and begin to play scales, my fingers moving up and down the piano. “It’s absolutely beautiful, Lark.”

  He smiles, watching my hands dance around the keys. “It is. Mom built it for me so that I had a place to play when Dad got mad.”

  “Did you come here often?”

  Lark bounces on the pads of his feet. “Every summer. Most times Dad was gone. Either on deployments or too busy to visit, so mom brought me here. We’d stay here for hours. Mom would sit over there.” He points to a comfortable red reading chair in the corner. “And I’d play her music.”

  My breath comes in shallow gasps and I fight the urge to cry. This strong, protective, beautiful man has a side to him I never truly knew. He hid himself—his true self—in a box and locked it away when he figured out it was easier to be harsh and mean. I’m lucky to know him now.

  I look around and notice the stack of music on the ground next to the chair. “Is that your sheet music?” I ask.

  His cheeks redden again. “Yeah.”

  I accept his answer and remind myself to ask him to play me something another time. “I could sit here all day,” I say, admiring the view. Lark cracks one of the windows and the air smells faintly of rain. It rushes past my face and my hair rustles around my face. You don’t smell this kind of scent in the city. It’s pine and dirt and fresh water all rolled in to one. I close my eyes and savor the aroma. It’s magical. It does something to my insides and sets me at ease.

  As I open them, I find Lark standing just inches from me, his eyes dilated and chest rising and falling in quick huffs. He has a hand on the piano and his look is primal, almost animalistic. His cheeks are red and his knuckles are white.