Tell Them Lies (Three Little Words Book 3) (20 page)

So he just left the room, not knowing exactly where he was going. Just away. But the hallways of the third floor slowly moved in against him too, nurses gave him questioning looks as his pace picked up towards the elevator. Punching the button a few times like it had done him personal injury, he somehow stood in one place until the doors opened in front of him. Numbly, he hit the button for the first floor, thankful for the empty elevator. His back hit the wall behind him and he stared at the numbers ticking down.

When he walked out, a group of people entered the elevator behind him and he stood in place, watching the ebb and flow of people milling through the hospital lobby. Some carried baby gifts, pink and blue balloons, bouquets of flowers to make some tired woman happy after giving birth.

What was the point?

What was the point of
any
of this?

The thought slithered through his numb brain. His mom was sleeping in a hospital bed, and who knew how many breaths she held in her body any more. And on the floor above or below her, babies were entering the world on sharp wails. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he just started walking, occasionally brushing against someone and muttering an apology that he didn't really mean.

Liz, Liz, Liz.
He whispered it through his head like a prayer, like it would magically make her appear in front of him.

Kieran dropped his hands, looking around the empty hallway where he'd ended up. When he made a circle, he stared at the double doors in front of him, the heavy wood with stained glass cutouts in each one. And then he leaned over, laughing hysterically when he saw the placard to the right of the door.

Chapel.

Of course.

L
iz had never
, ever hated the last two hours of work more in her entire life. From the moment she'd seen Kieran's text, the minutes had dragged imperceptibly. And she hadn't even seen his text until almost ninety minutes after he'd sent it, which sent her heart into a tailspin.

Even looking at it now, where she sat in her car in the empty library parking lot, she wanted to burst into tears. Or vomit. Because as many times as she'd wished she heard from him, it scared her now. Terrified her down to the marrow in her bones.

He missed her. Which was all well and good. But was he sorry? Could they forgive each other for the equal amounts of damage they'd inflicted on each other?

Pulling in a slow breath through her nose, Liz started a call with Kieran. It rang and rang and rang, finally connecting to his voicemail. Disappointment swamped her, so she disconnected the call. But rushing in swiftly after the disappointment was steel-filled determination. He couldn't just say that to her and then not answer her call.

So she waited a few minutes and called again. This time it didn't even ring, it went directly to his voicemail. A tiny niggle of worry threaded through her. An itch that she couldn't come close to touching.

Not reading into it too terribly much, whether it was too invasive or not, Liz scrolled through her contacts and found Carol's home number where she’d saved it a couple weeks ago and waited for her to answer. She was a nice enough woman to mask her surprise at hearing Liz's voice.

"I know it's strange that I'm calling you."

"Oh pish. It's wonderful to hear your voice. Have you talked to Kieran today?" The caution in her voice raised hairs on the back of Liz's neck.

"No, that's why I'm calling. I've been trying to reach him, and I can't get through."

"I'm sure he'd be okay with me telling you, and if he's not, I really could care less." Liz smiled, even as the dark pit in her stomach grew. "It's Maggie, honey. She's in the hospital. She fell this morning, probably broke her hip."

Liz gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry, Carol. I had no idea. What hospital is she at?"

Carol told her the name of the hospital, and what floor Maggie was on, and it was just a few miles down the road from the library. She'd been there when Rachel had her baby.

"Thank you, Carol. I'm going to go over there now."

"Good, I think that's good. I have a feeling he'll need you, dear."

Pressing a shaky hand to her forehead, Liz nodded, even though Carol couldn't see her. Then she found her voice. "If I hear anything, I'll call you."

"Thank you, Liz," she said, voice thick with tears.

The four mile drive to the hospital felt interminably long, and Liz found herself driving her sensible car in a very insensible way. She walked quickly across the parking lot, practically jogging, bypassing the information desk with the smiling volunteer since she knew what floor to go to.

There was a large group waiting in front of the elevator, and Liz tapped her foot impatiently, looking down the opposite hallway while she waited. Just before the wall curved past her view, she saw two black boots, the end of some dark colored jeans.

Squinting a bit, Liz's heart crawled up her throat when she realized that yes, she definitely recognized those boots, and the way that the jeans frayed a bit at the hem. She walked slowly, breathing deeply so that she didn't pass out before she reached him.

He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at anything. His entire large body was slumped, his upper body against the wall behind him, his long legs on the carpeted floor. The way his broad shoulders were sagging screamed of dejection, and his eyes weren't merely closed, they were pinched tightly shut, like he was experiencing physical pain.

It wasn't just her heart, it was
all
of her that ached to comfort him. The beard was back on his face, he probably hadn't shaved since she last saw him. Careful not to startle him, Liz lowered herself to the ground next to him soundlessly. Since he hadn't moved at all, just sat there breathing, she took her time studying him, itching to touch him so badly that she was shaking.

Maybe it wasn't very bold of her, but apologies didn't really matter anymore. Those were words. Just words that could be contradicted with every action, every decision that came after. She exhaled, and only realized how loud it must have been when Kieran started, opening his eyes and blinking a few times before he turned his head towards her.

His eyelids fell shut again, this time fully relaxed, and he let out a shuddering breath. Liz slid her hand over his where it still lay on the floor, intertwining her fingers with his. Kieran turned his palm over, so that it connected with hers, threading their fingers again once they did. He clutched her hand so tightly that she felt the pricks of lost sensation in her fingertips.

Liz inched closer to him, and he finally opened his eyes again, letting his dark gaze cover her face. He lifted one side of his mouth in a sad smile and she returned it. Turning his face away, he stared at the dark wood doors across the hall from them.

"Will you go in there with me?"

Oh, his voice. Warmth and familiarity filled her veins, expanded her lungs, pounded through her heart, and settled in her bones.

Noticing the sign to the right of the doors, Liz felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. "Of course."

He pushed to standing in a way where he never let go of her hand, and then he pulled to help her up. Should she hug him? He answered the dilemma by squeezing her hand once and leading her towards the doors. When he didn't immediately open them, Liz pulled on the metal door handle and did it for him.

The chapel was small, a dozen or so rows in front of a long mahogany table. A simple wooden cross stood in the middle of the table, and a few metal sconces on the walls filled the room with a soft, golden glow. They sat in the back row, and the door clicked shut behind them, giving Liz the distinct feeling that they were separated from the rest of the world by far more than a wooden door. Protected from everything that had brought them there.

And it felt good. Felt necessary.

Kieran settled their clasped hands on his thigh and stared forward at the front of the room.

"How's your mom?" she whispered, feeling like the dark holiness of the room required it.

He exhaled, clenching in his jaw once while he did it. "The cancer spread to her bones. That's why the fall in the bathroom did so much damage."

"Oh Kieran, I'm so sorry." She inched closer to him, tightening her grip on his hand, wishing she could wrap him up completely.

"And she knows that I'm too chicken shit to talk about it. That this is the big old red flag waving in my face that she's never going to get better." He dropped his chin down to his chest. "She's never going to get better, Liz."

"What can I do, Kieran? What do you need?"

He lifted his head, letting out a short, humorless laugh. "What do
I
need? I'm the healthy one. Shouldn't we be talking about what my mom needs?"

"You're here, that's what she needs, besides the doctors and nurses that are committed to taking care of her. I'm asking about what I can do to help you."

His eyes didn't move over to her, he still stared at the cross like he was piecing together a puzzle.

"You're here," he repeated. "That's what I need."

Liz smiled and pressed up against him, laying her head on his shoulder, willing any strength she had in her body to transfer through to his. "There has to be more. I'm just me."

"You go to church, angel?"

The smile on her face spread at the nickname, and she felt absurdly and inappropriately happy for hearing it. "Not every week, no. I try for a couple times a month. Why?"

"I don't think I'd even know what to pray for right now. How to do it. Or if anyone would even listen to anything I had to say."

Liz lifted her head, looking at the cross with him, working her mouth while she thought about what to say. "Well, I guess I've always believed that God knows our heart, we can't hide that. So it's usually best to speak from there. I don't pray to say what I think He wants to hear, I pray what's on my heart. And that's not always pretty."

He nodded his head, finally turning to give her an inscrutable look. "What do you pray for?"

"A lot of things. Too many things to count."

"Evasive answer."

She smiled again, nudging his shoulder with her own. "Not evasive. Just true. I pray what's on my mind, ask for guidance, for forgiveness, to bless the people I love and keep them safe."

"So if I wanted to pray for my mom, what should I pray for? That she's miraculously healed? Would that be the best thing? Won't I get struck by lightning since I don't believe that's possible?"

This time it was Liz who closed her eyes, feeling wholly unequipped for this conversation.

"I know," Kieran continued in her silence, "pray from my heart. But here's the thing, I don't think God wants to hear what's in my heart. Because I'm
pissed
, Liz. I'm so damn pissed off right now that I want to break something. I want to tear down this whole damn building if it would give me any sort of control over what's happening to her. Because I do not want her to die," his voice cracked, and Liz's heart wrenched open along with it, tears filling her eyes. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "I was so mad at her for not wanting to fight it. And now she
can't
fight it. And when she dies..."

He stopped, balancing his elbows on his knees and sinking his face into his hands. Liz just held him, letting the tears fall down her face unchecked, just leaned her head against his shoulder, which started shaking. At first she was terrified that he was laughing, but then he sniffed, and she gathered him closer when she realized it was him crying.

"Ssshhh, it's okay, I've got you," she whispered and wrapped her other hand around the side of his head so he was turned into her. Kieran's arms finally lifted, closing around her, laying his forehead into the curve of her shoulder, and they cried together.

It felt like hours that they stayed wrapped together on that pew, when Kieran finally pulled pack. Liz used her thumb under his eye, wiping the damp skin across his cheek bone. He took a deep breath and gave her a self-deprecating grin.

"Have you lost all respect for my masculinity now?"

She laughed, a wet, thick sound and shook her head. "Completely."

"Excellent. Want to go up there with me?"

Liz stood, stretching her arms out after sitting so long. "Of course."

"Just, just promise to punch me or something if I start to cry up there. I don't want her to freak out."

"Got it."

She walked out of the aisle, and he grabbed her hand, turning her around again. "Thank you. For coming. For letting me do that." He waved a hand awkwardly behind him at the pew.

Liz took a step toward him, cupping the side of his face. "Kieran, you're my friend. And Maggie is my friend. No matter what happens next, or how much time she may have, we'll get through it together, okay?"

Shoulders falling in relief, Kieran wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. When he rested his cheek on the top of her head, she sighed and sank into him. That puzzle piece that had escaped her moved one notch closer to completion, in the way her whole heart relaxed at his touch. He released her, patting her on the shoulder. She gave him a curious look, already missing his closeness, but he was already half way out the door.

They walked shoulder to shoulder towards the elevator. Right as they were entering, he turned to her.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I never, ever should have called you a coward because you are absolutely not one and I was a total jackass."

Liz laughed. "A little. But you're forgiven. And I'm sorry too, for telling your mom."

"Man, if all I had to do was cry like a little bitch to smooth all of this over, I would've done that weeks ago."

"So I'm forgiven too?" Liz asked as they exited onto the third floor. Kieran slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah," he said on an exaggerated sigh. "I guess."

And together, they walked into Maggie's room.

A
month ago
, it would have sounded horribly unfair to be friends with Liz. Just friends. Like the kind of friend who didn't occasionally make out or take each other's clothes off. It was a waste, really. Because on days like today, she looked kind of amazing in that little cotton sundress in the color of cotton candy.

The tiny straps over her newly tan shoulders?

Total. Waste.

But they'd made an agreement. Friends, for the time being.

It was something they hadn't done before. Just a fake relationship that apparently hadn't felt fake to either of them, they just hadn't shared that fact with each other at any point. But he actually believed they could do it. Could be friends. And that was because of one tiny little woman, his mother.

They were well and truly united in their crusade for her. She'd signed onto hospice not long after she'd gone home from the hospital, and even though it took Kieran a few days to understand that it wasn't actually an immediate death sentence, he was fully on board now.

He'd moved into house for the foreseeable future, even though there were aides coming a couple times a week, a nurse once a week, and regular visits from her doctor too. All straight to her house, which was kinda kick ass.

She had a hospital bed now in her bedroom, much easier for her to get in and out of than her regular one. A brand new wheelchair to be carted around in, and some meds that really seemed to be helping manage her pain.

And today, Kieran was talking to her social worker about coordinating some of her 'list'.

His mom had a fricken bucket list.

It didn't make him burst into tears or anything, but when she'd first showed it to him a week ago, he got a little choked up. But in a manly, kick-ass way.

The first item? Get a tattoo.

Everything after that was inconsequential for Kieran. How he ended up with such a bad ass for a mother, he had no idea. So he and Liz were taking it upon themselves to help her make her way through that list.

The first beautiful summer day they had, they drove her south of Grand Rapids to Binder Park Zoo, since 'feed a giraffe' was number two on her list. She'd laughed like a child when Kieran had lifted her out of the chair and held her in his arms while the giraffe extended its weird ass purple tongue to grab the lettuce leaf that she'd held out. Liz snapped a few pictures, smiling the whole time.

Surprisingly, it hadn't felt depressing, making that moment happen for her. It felt good. Felt important in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

And everyone who was close to Maggie was pitching in. Her friends from church came over one Saturday to help her bake every item in her recipe box. The kitchen had been fairly coated with powdered sugar and regular sugar and brown sugar and flour and frosting by the time they were done, but the look on his mom's face when she bit into the molasses cookies that she hadn't made in over ten years had been almost transcendent.

And all those baked goods helped her cross another one off. Bring treats to the hospice house. The residential facility for the hospice company she was using accepted all the cookies with huge smiles and effusive praise, promising that the families and residents would be so grateful. Kieran had only held back one plate of her oatmeal raisin cookies, feeling only a twinge of guilt, which quickly went away when he cleared the plate by licking off a few errant crumbs.

And today they were going to do the first item. Margaret Marie Carter was going to get inked, at the age of sixty seven.

"What are you grinning about?" Liz asked from the backseat as they drove downtown to Mos Eisley's, the place he got all his work done.

"Ma's getting a tattoo," he yelled out the open window, drawing glares from the sedan next to them at the red light. Kieran just winked and took off when the light turned green.

"Oh don't gloat," his mom said from the passenger seat. "It's not at all attractive."

Liz laughed, rubbing his mom's shoulder. "What are you going to get?"

His mom just smiled but didn't answer.

"You're seriously not going to tell us?" Kieran asked as he pulled up to the curb next to the tall, narrow building on the corner.

"Patience is a virtue, my son."

"Blah, blah, blah," he mumbled as he put on the hazards and jogged around the front of the car. Liz had already pulled his mom's wheelchair out of the trunk and set it up on the sidewalk. They had a fairly smooth system down at this point. He and his Aunt Carol had switched cars when this whole bucket list crusade had started, so Kieran could more easily transfer his mom in and out of the taller SUV.

Once she was settled in the chair, Kieran stood and waved into the tattoo parlor. Glass windows stretched all the way across the front of the shop, showcasing the seating area full of large black leather couches. His tattoo guy, Silas, waved from the behind the counter and walked to open the door.

"So is this lovely young woman my three o'clock appointment?"

His mom laughed and held out a hand for Silas, who grinned at Liz.

"Mom, Silas. Silas, my mom. Treat her well, man. I'll be watching your every move."

Liz moved to hold the door open for Silas, who carefully pushed the wheelchair across the gleaming hardwood floors. After Kieran had parked the car and jogged into the shop, his mom was already done with her paperwork. The three guys working all stood behind the counter, laughing at something she'd said. Liz's eyes were huge, and the smile on her face looked guilty for even being amused.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Kieran asked when he strode in, stopping just next to Liz. You know, just in case any of the guys like the sundress as much as he did. Because that was not happening. Except with the beautiful smile on her face, and those perfect blue eyes and mile long legs, it was almost impossible not to expect someone to notice her at some point. And now he was her
friend
.

Awesome.

"Oh, they were just telling me about your first tattoo. Silas said you cried."

"I did not. What the hell, man?"

Silas just grinned, and it lifted his long gray beard up at the edges. "Your word against mine. Who's your mother going to believe?"

"Ma, I did
not
cry. I cursed a couple times, but it was because he fricken stabbed with me the needle way harder than he needed to."

His mom laughed. Liz laughed. The guys all laughed. And it was a fairly perfect moment. He was slowly learning to recognize and appreciate them. Not make them into something morbid and depressing because of some giant ticking clock, but really seeing them for what they were.

Good memories to hold onto.

His mom was wheeled back to Silas's work space, exposed brick along the entire back wall, and green paneled walls along the rest. His cart holding all of his supplies was covered in stickers representing all his travels around the world, mostly Europe and South America. Kieran could see his mom take it all in with open curiosity.

"It's so much nicer in here than I expected."

Silas just laughed, sitting on his stool and readying the stuff he'd need. "Yeah, we hear that a lot. We're a classy joint, damn it. I don't know why people don't expect that."

Kieran carefully lifted his mom from her wheelchair and settled her in the black leather chair bolted to the middle of the work space. Once she was comfortable, Kieran moved back next to Liz where she was sitting in the extra chair. His hand settled on her shoulder and he squeezed. You know, like a really friendly way.

And not in the slightest did he notice how silky her hair felt across the top of his hand where it brushed against his skin. Or how sweet her smile was when she turned her face up to him. How it made his heart pinch.

Nope. He did not notice any of it.

His mom hadn't told him what she planned on getting, but apparently Silas knew because he went about doing a temporary transfer on her skin so she could approve of the placement. When he started peeling the paper off, Kieran leaned forward to see what it was, and he grinned

"No shit."

His mom winked at him. "No shit, son."

Silas barked out a laugh. "Yup, she's cool."

Kieran held the smile on his face while he looked that miniature replica of his celtic knot tattoo, placed on her right wrist. It was no more than inch wide, and would probably only take Silas about ten minutes, but she was getting one of Kieran's tattoos. The one that meant family.

Liz reached out and grabbed Kieran's hand, giving a gentle squeeze. She would know how much that meant to him. And unbidden, he got a flash of a memory of Liz giving the tattoo on the inside of his bicep of gentle kiss when they'd been in bed with each other so many weeks ago. Well over a month now.

Friends.
He chanted it in his hand over and over and over and over while at the same time reveling in the feel of her fingers in his. In truth, he really was happy with their arrangement now. The difference in her the last ten days since she'd shown up at the hospital was marked. There was no shadow of guilt darkening her blue eyes, no tight-lipped smile on her face. He was seeing
Liz
. And he liked what he saw.

Silas began working on his mom, only a pinch of pain crossing her face when the needle first pressed into her skin. Her version was a bit more simplified, only the basic outline of the knot instead of the more intricate version like his own.

"Oh, Maggie," Liz said, extracting her hand from Kieran's and placing them in her lap, "I forgot to tell you. My friend Rachel said she can help with number seven on your list."

Kieran mentally went through the list, then burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

Liz grinned and nodded. "I spoke to her this morning."

"Oh that's wonderful, honey. When is it? Are they nice?"

"What's number seven?" Silas asked, only briefly looking up from his work.

"Tell him, Ma."

"I want to crash a wedding."

Silas stopped, briefly lifting his hand so he was no longer touching her skin. "Really?"

His mom nodded. "I’ve always wanted to. And who's going to kick me out? I'm a sick woman in a wheel chair. It's foolproof."

"Total bad ass. You are a total bad ass." Then he got back to work.

Kieran's mom took a sharp inhale, face tight with pain.

"You all right, Ma?"

She nodded, face smoothing out when Silas moved past that spot. "That one just hurt a bit more."

"The wedding is next Saturday, and Rachel said this couple is a total blast."

"I'm so excited! It's quite handy that your bff is a wedding planner."

Liz smiled, reaching out to lay her hand on his mom's leg. "I'm just glad we can help." Then she turned around and looked at Kieran, eyes heavy with meaning and memories. "So does this mean you'll take me to another wedding?"

Swallowing past the quickly forming lump in his throat, Kieran nodded. "I'd be honored."

Liz must have sensed the gravity in his reply because she just held his gaze for a few charged seconds. Neither of them blinked, until Silas sat back, shutting off the buzz of the tattoo gun.

"Look at that. That's a pretty damn perfect tattoo, if I do say so myself."

"It's lovely, Silas. Thank you so much," his mom said with a huge smile. When Kieran looked back at Liz, she'd moved her eyes over to the tattoo, admiring it and complimenting Silas.

"That mean you're ready for one, Blondie?" Silas asked while he snapped his plastic gloves off and tossed them in the trash bin behind him.

Kieran rolled his eyes, but Liz just laughed. "Absolutely not. But if I ever change my mind, you'll be the first person I come to see."

Silas went through aftercare instructions, covering the small patch of skin with plastic and taping down the edges. Kieran helped his mom back into her chair, and she gave Silas an affectionate pat on the cheek.

Liz laid a hand on Kieran's arm. "I'll take care of the rest if you want to go get the car."

Kieran nodded, said goodbye to Silas, and walked out to the parking lot wondering how in the ever-loving hell he was going to be able to do it if she decided that friends was the best thing they could ever be.

L
iz watched
over the course of the next couple weeks as Maggie's tattoo healed across her papery skin, and she happily checked items off the list that now hung on the fridge. None of them needed to look at it any more, they all knew it by heart.

The wedding crash had gone off without a hitch, and only a few long, lingering glances between her and Kieran. Unfortunately, that meant Liz had to make an effort not to dance with him at the reception, because if he'd wrapped her in his arms, she'd probably cave.

And what they had was good.

They'd taken her to a drive-in movie on a warm June night, her and Kieran on opposite sides of Maggie while they watched a Pixar movie that inevitably brought tears to Liz and Maggie's eyes.

They'd driven out to the state park in Holland so that Maggie could watch the sunrise over Lake Michigan. It had actually ended being one of Liz's favorite things they'd done so far. Nobody had spoken a word, all three of them watching in awed silence as the dusty purples and pinks gradually turned to a bright, blinding orange over the calm waters. Only a few people walked along the sand in front of them, so it felt very much like the sun was rising just for them, simply so they could watch the day start.

Liz had seen Maggie wipe a tear from her face, but Liz didn't comment on it, letting her have the moment to herself. If Kieran saw it, he hid it very well. His handsome profile stayed fixed on the lake like the two women weren't even there.

Through every single thing they did, occasionally adding something spontaneous to their outings because Maggie had a new idea, something grew and blossomed inside of Liz.

The sense of disquiet that she'd had with her life became a living, breathing entity in her heart. Not in a bad way, in a wonderfully overwhelming way. It had started when Maggie got her tattoo, going from sweet, enjoyable moments, to a permanent mark on her body to show that she wasn't done living yet. That night, she'd cried for two solid hours, already anticipating the soul-bruising loss that would leave a mark on all of them whenever Maggie did leave this earth.