Page 298 of The Lies We Play
The room is too warm. I notice it all at once. The air pressing against my skin. The low TV voices. The smell of tape, sweat, and clean gear. Creed standing in front of me in skates and pads, dressed for impact, telling me he has spent ten years calculating whether loving me would get his family hurt.
I hate my name.
Not Halston.
Saint Claire.
I hate what it has done to him.
There is a knock at the door.
A voice on the other side says, “Lafontaine. Five.”
Creed turns his head. “Almost done.”
His voice sounds normal.
That unsettles me.
I wonder how many times he has made his voice normal while his life was burning behind it.
“When—” I start.
“The security team will decide that,” he says, turning back to me. “Liv is coming to help you. I hope you understand what I asked her to do. I asked her to pause her life for a few . . . who the fuck knows how long.”
He takes a breath.
“But we don’t ask her to stay.”
The sentence cuts through me.
“We don’t?”
Creed’s eyes hold mine. “She deserves to be happy, Hal. She probably found that already, and we’re not getting in the middle of that. I know your heart and your soul want her, but—”
“Do I need to let you go too?” I ask.
His face stills.
“Are you happy with somebody else?”
He shakes his head before I finish.
“No.” The word comes fast. Then, softer: “Ne—”
He stops himself.
I almost finish it for him.
Never.
He won’t say it, but continues, “I belong to the two of you.”
Relief moves through me so quickly it hurts.
Then sadness comes behind it.
He didn’t move on.
