Chapter 38

The key turned with a reluctant twist, the click of the lock thunderously loud in my ears. I pushed the door open; my entry was a stagger more than a step. The familiar scent of home did nothing to soothe the panic that clung to me like the clammy sweat on my skin. My heart hadn"t ceased its wild thrumming since I"d left Adam Andersson, his words still lodged in my mind.

My hand trembled as I reached back to shut the door, the fine tremors betraying the adrenaline that still coursed through my veins. A shaky breath escaped my lips, but it brought no relief. The safety of the walls around me felt like a facade, a thin veil that could be torn away at any moment by the truth of what had transpired.

I leaned against the cool wood for a moment, willing myself to regain composure. In the mirror by the entrance, I caught sight of my reflection—eyes wide and reflecting a terror that clawed at my gut, forehead glistening with the effort of keeping my fear at bay. The vulnerability was stark, naked in the harsh light of the foyer.

"Are you okay?" Coming from the living room, Matt"s voice cut through my reverie, a thread of concern woven into the simple question.

I glanced up, meeting my own gaze in the mirror once more before turning away. My response was a whisper, tangled up with the remnants of dread, "Yeah, just… tired."

"Sure?" Skepticism laced the single word, an invitation for the truth I wasn"t sure I could afford to give.

"Positive," I lied, forcing a smile that didn"t reach my eyes, a smile I hoped would be enough to mask the storm raging within.

Matt couldn't know what had happened.

I pulled off my coat, the fabric sliding against my clammy skin. Matt was in the living room, his torso leaning back against the couch, arms folded across his chest.

"Hey," he said, eyes scanning my face with a precision that felt almost invasive as I walked in. "How did it go with Andersson?"

I swallowed, my throat dry. The words seemed to stick somewhere between my mind and mouth, refusing to form.

"Eva Rae?" His brow knitted together in concern as I walked into the living room, and he glanced at my face. "You"re shaking. What happened?"

"Nothing—nothing I didn"t expect." My voice betrayed me with a slight quiver, an audible crack in my facade.

"Doesn"t look like nothing." Matt"s voice rose slightly, a crescendo of worry and frustration. "I see your hands, Eva Rae. They"re trembling. And your eyes—they"re not just tired, they"re scared."

I inhaled sharply, a failed attempt to steady myself. "It"s just been a long day, Matt."

"Cut the crap." He was raising his voice now, his anger seeping into the space around us. "You think I can"t tell when you"re terrified? Talk to me."

I averted my gaze, fixating on a nonexistent point past his shoulder. "I"m fine," I lied once more, the words hollow as they hung in the air between us.

There was no way I could tell him, not after the conversation we had just had about him fearing for my safety.

I turned away, a shaky breath betraying my resolve. Matt"s presence was a balm and a curse. To tell him was to drag him into the darkness that clung to my every step since I started this investigation. Not to tell him was to build a wall of secrets between us.

"Eva Rae?" Matt"s voice was a low rumble, his concern palpable.

"Can we not do this now?" I closed my eyes, fighting the images flashing through my mind. If Adam was the killer, then he had almost gotten me today. I had played it too risky. He could have killed me.

"Something"s wrong." His statement was a command demanding truth.

"Matt…." The name felt like a plea on my lips—a plea for understanding without confession.

"Whatever it is, I"m here. You know that."

I nodded, the gesture empty. Thoughts clashed: Tell him. Don"t. Trust him. Protect him. Each argument warred for dominance.

"Hey." His hand reached out, fingers gently reaching mine. I lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. "I"ve got you."

"Have you?" My heart pounded, the question more for myself than for him.

"Always." Conviction burned in his eyes, a silent promise.

My secret teetered on the edge of revelation. But revealing the truth meant exposing him to danger—a danger I wasn"t sure I could shield him from. Unspoken words crowded my throat.

"Eva Rae, please." His voice cracked with worry.

"Matt, I…." My words faltered, fear wrapping around my tongue.

"Talk to me."

"Nothing—I mean, it"s nothing new," I whispered, each word laced with guilt.

"Doesn"t feel like nothing." His grip tightened, a lifeline offered in the wake of my internal storm. "Please, let"s just… sit down, Eva Rae." He gestured toward the space next to him on the couch. I went to sit down, my eyes desperate to escape his searching eyes.

"Okay." He followed, but his confusion hung in the air, a thick fog of unasked questions.

I sank into the couch, the cushions swallowing my body.

"Eva Rae?" His voice hovered, waiting for an anchor in the silence.

Could you please stop saying my name like I have done something wrong?

I exhaled, a shaky breath betraying my calm facade.

"I got it, Matt."

My voice wobbled like a poorly set table, ready to collapse at the slightest touch.

"Got what?" His brow furrowed, his hands tentatively reaching out as if to grasp the elusive truth.

"The information," I said quickly, too quickly. "The information I needed."

Matt paused, processing my words with a skeptic"s ear. "And? What was it?" He leaned forward, his eyes searching mine for clarity. "Did you find out about the affair?"

"Yes, he admitted they had an affair," I said. "And that he knew about it."

"Well, that's a big step. It gives him a pretty good motive. How did he react when you confronted him?"

"He… he wouldn't admit to it." I avoided his gaze, focusing on an invisible spot on the wall. My heart thumped a guilty rhythm.

"Of course not," Matt said. "But how did he react? How was his demeanor?"

"It was pretty… normal."

"Eva Rae, this doesn"t add up." Disappointment laced his voice, mingling with an edge of frustration. "You"re shaking, you look— tell me what happened."

"Please, Matt." The plea cut through the room, sharp and clear. "It was all fine. Nothing happened. Just trust me on this."

"Trust works both ways." He leaned back, arms once again crossing over his chest. "I"m trying here, but you have to give me something. You promised, remember?"

I swallowed hard, the lie heavy on my tongue. "It"s just another piece of the puzzle," I managed to say. "We"re closer now, that"s all."

Matt"s shoulders slumped, the weight of unanswered questions bowing his frame. "Closer to what, Eva Rae? You"re scaring me."

"Nothing dangerous," I lied again, my voice threadbare.

"Right." He nodded, though his eyes betrayed his skepticism. "Because none of this has been dangerous so far."

"Matt—"

"Save it." He held up a hand, silencing my next falsehood. "I can see there"s no point in pushing."

"Thank you," I murmured, relief mingling with the sour taste of deceit.

"Doesn"t mean I"m okay with this, Eva Rae." His voice faded.

"Are you hungry?" My voice quivered slightly, betraying my nerves as I turned toward the kitchen, avoiding Matt"s probing stare. "I could make us something to eat."

Matt"s eyes followed me as I rose to my feet, his presence like a shadow trailing my every move. "Eva Rae, food is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Right." I forced a brittle laugh. "Silly question. Well, I'm hungry, and I bet the kids are too."

I walked to the kitchen and fumbled with pots and pans, clanging them louder than necessary to fill the silence that expanded between us. I didn"t dare look at him; his gaze was too penetrating, too knowing. Then he got up with much effort, and, using his crutches, he approached me.

"Talk to me," he implored from the doorway, his voice softened, but the underlying urgency unmistakable.

"Nothing to say." Short, curt. A wall of words to keep him out.

"Eva Rae…." His sigh whispered across the room.

"Really, I"m fine." The lie stung my throat.

"Fine doesn"t shake like a leaf or jump at shadows." His words were gentle but firm.

"Please, Matt." My plea was half-hearted and hollow.

"All right," he conceded, though it sounded more like defeat than agreement.

"Sit down," I insisted, gesturing to the table. "Let me do this for you."

"Okay." But he didn"t move, watching me instead.

My hands shook as I sliced vegetables, the knife tapping a morse code of guilt on the cutting board. Each chop fractured the air, mirroring the fissures in my resolve.

"Stop." Matt"s voice sliced through my actions.

"Stop what?" I didn"t turn; I couldn"t face the concern I"d see etched on his face.

"Stop pretending." His words echoed, bouncing off the kitchen tiles.

"Matt, really, let"s just eat." My tone was sharp, final.

"Eva Rae…."

"Please." The word hung between us, a barrier, a wish.

"Okay."

Guilt clawed at my insides as I watched him sit with much trouble. Fear gnawed at me as I braced myself against the counter, taking a moment to breathe. Silence wrapped around me, heavy and charged with the things left unsaid.

"Food will be ready soon," I called over my shoulder, my voice nearly steady.

"Take your time." His reply was distant; the space between us was more than just physical now.

I glanced back. Matt sat, head bowed, hands clasped—a statue of patience and pain. I turned away, a tear escaping, tracing a path down my cheek. I hated doing this to him. I wiped it away angrily, knowing the cost of my secrets, feeling their weight.

"Almost done," I lied again, the words hollow, as I continued to cook.

The steam rose from the pot, wrapping tendrils around my face. I stirred mechanically, the spoon circling, grazing the bottom. My mind was a battlefield, thoughts clashing, each one sharp as shrapnel. Guilt. Duty. The need to protect.

"Food"s almost ready," I called out, the lie sticking in my throat.

"Can"t wait," he replied, a hint of resignation in his voice.

My heart thrummed, a drumbeat of dread. Would he see through me? Would my facade crumble like stale bread?

I called the children.

"Dinner is ready!"

"Looks delicious," Matt said, though his eyes searched for more than what was on the table.

"Let"s eat," I urged, avoiding his gaze.

The kids came running and sat down. I helped Angel with her food, and she laughed happily. Forks scraped plates in a symphony of normalcy. But nothing was normal. Not now. I didn't know how to get it back.

Dinner ended. Alex and Christine cleared the dishes while Matt got up on his crutches and moved toward the living room, his movements slow and weighted. My heart sank with them.

As I cleaned up the last of everything and let the kids go, the lie sat heavily on my chest, a stone pressing against my ribs. I closed my eyes, saw Adam Andersson"s face, and felt his threat coil around my neck. I could almost feel his fingers grab me; that's how close he had been.

What had I done? I was suddenly lying to Matt, hiding things. What would this do to us? Was it worth it?