Page 18 of Wicked Truths
I swing, hitting the ball, watching it fly through the air.
When it lands, I turn to Caleb. “How’s things?”
He sighs. “Okay, I suppose.”
I’ve known Caleb for over ten years now. We met in the hospital, both sitting in those stiff plastic chairs while our wives battled cancer. I remember the sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the faint scent of flowers from a nearby bouquet. Each time I walked in, dread wrapped around my heart like a vice, waiting to be told there was nothing left but time now.
Caleb and I leaned on each other, sharing stories about our lives before the darkness settled in. I often laughed as he cracked a joke to lighten the mood, even when he was teetering on the edge of despair. Those moments—filled with laughter and tears—bonded us like brothers.
Our wives both fought hard, but fate dealt a cruel hand. Within one year of each other, both our wives lost their battles.
The pain brought Caleb and me closer together; we sought solace in each other’s company as we restarted our lives without them.
The financial strain threatened to take everything from him, but I couldn’t let Caleb’s life crumble under the weight of medical bills and mortgage payments, not when his wife had passed, and I could do so much more.
So, I stepped in.
I didn’t think twice about paying off his mortgage. It wasn’t charity; it was loyalty to a brother who had been through hell and back. When he tried to turn down my offer, I told him, “I take care of my family. Now you and Poppy are family.”
We stand on the golf course now, clubs in hand, two men who found their way through grief by laughing along the way.
Caleb is a little more thoughtful when he’s playing golf. He lines the ball up and takes lots of fake swings before he finally takes the shot.
“And you?” he asks, watching the ball arc through the air.
My thoughts drift back to Amara; her body molded against mine yesterday morning is an image I’m struggling to shift from my mind.
We jump into the golf cart and make our way to where the balls landed. As we get out of the cart, I say, “I’m fine, but has Poppy mentioned anything about Amara wanting to leave Australia?”
He looks aghast. “Leave? No. Why?”
I shake my head clear as I focus on my next shot, not knowing if I’m ready to share another moment with my friend before the shadows creep back in again.
But I pause, club mid-swing. “I found her in my office last night. Looking for her passport, at least that’s what she says.”
He nods slowly. “And that’s why you came back early from Victoria?” Caleb follows my ball’s trajectory. “The security alert?”
“Yeah.” I climb back into the golf buggy, letting Caleb drive to where his ball landed. “Something’s not right with her. She was terrified last night.”
Caleb’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “That doesn’t sound like Amara.”
“Can you talk to Poppy? See if she knows anything?” The buggy bumps along the path. “If someone’s hurting her...”
“You’re really worried about her.” Caleb glances at me, surprise clear in his expression.
“Of course I am.” I stare ahead at the perfect green course. “She’s not being honest with me. There are bruises on her neck this morning that weren’t there yesterday.”
“Bruises?” Caleb stops the buggy. “Have you asked her about them?”
“She won’t talk. Just changes the subject, and then runs away.” I slide my hand through my hair. “I need to know what’s going on with her, Caleb. Something’s not adding up.”
“I’ll talk to Poppy,” he says after a long pause. “See what I can find out.”
5
Amara
It's been three dayssince Dom was in my bed, and I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. It's also pretty awkward in the house at the moment.
