Page 112 of Once Upon a Lie

“Aha!” I yell. “I hope his water is never, ever the right temperature!”

You know what they say—misery loves company. And with the way I’ve been feeling, I sure hope Shane Maddox spends the rest of his life as the most miserable man on earth.

It’d be pretty easy—he’ll only have to feel half of what I’m feeling right now.

41

Shane

Saturday, November 6

4:30 p.m.

I’ve been here for nearly a week now, but being back in my little house in Woodbine still feels like a fever dream. My stuff is just as I left it, my clothes still smell like me, and the yard has been mowed while I’ve been gone, so it doesn’t even look like I left.

It’s exactly like it was when I picked it, when I moved in, and when I left to go on this assignment in Magnolia Condos.

But I am different. I’m not the man I thought I was when I bought this house a year and a half ago. The man who was content to be alone for the rest of his life if it meant he could be proud of his work and contribution to the people of Nashville through public service. The man who would have looked at Dom sitting across from him right now, with his toddler Louie treating him like a jungle gym, and winced. The man who thought he was morally superior, tied to justice, and completely above reproach.

The man who hadn’t met his match, his person, the woman who would turn all that on its head, and never thought he would.

I’m a man in love now. A man who looks at Dom and his freakishly energized kid and wonders what my own might be like. A man who longs for the comfort of his person, no matter where he lives or what it looks like or what else is nearby. A house isn’t home.

People are.

Dom considers my condition closely, all the way down to the mustard stains on my shirt from the microwave corn dog I ate earlier and the unwashed grease in my hair, and his lip curls. “So . . . we’re doing really well, I see.”

“Never thought I’d be as stupid as you,” I say. “That’s a real low point for me, honestly.”

He rolls his eyes and shoots me the finger as Louie pulls his hair. “So. You love her, then.”

I groan. “Are we really going to do this? I’d rather just drink beer and mope.” I turn the volume up on the TV and tip up my bottle, and he nods, the smug bastard.

“Right.” Dom smirks like he’s already won this verbal judo match of ours. “So you want to be an even bigger idiot than me is what you’re saying. Got it.”

I roll my eyes. “What the fu-udge are you talking about?”

“I mean, I was at least smart enough to make sure I actually got the girl.” Louie pulls his hair and jumps in the chair behind him, beating his fists on Dom’s shoulders when he’s done pulling out hair. But Dom just keeps talking through a grimace. “You, evidently, just want to sit around and . . . do nothing? Complain? Fuse to the couch until you turn moldy?”

Spinning to sitting, I put my booted feet to the floor and lean forward aggressively, the feeling of having my hands tied grating on my nerves. Dom acts like I have a fucking option. Like I wasn’t told to stand the fuck down at fucking gunpoint by her brother. I know it’s technically a classified case, but if I couldn’t tell Dom the details, I’d lose my fucking mind.

Which is why I already told him everything—I know he’s a ride or die. He’d take all this shit to the grave if he had to.

“It’s not that simple, Dom. She’s off limits. I have orders. I’ve been lying to her this whole time. Hannah at least knew who you really were. Knew that you were spying on her damn sex calls. You think she’d have been thrilled to find out we’d been doing all that shit without her knowing?”

“I didn’t say it was easy, genius. But none of the stuff that’s worth it is. You think my three kids, one of which is a newborn baby, aren’t so flipping exhausting I could croak?”

Right on cue, Louie pillows Dom’s lips by squeezing his cheeks and then jumps down out of his lap to run around my kitchen table like it’s the Indy 500.

Dom’s eyes follow him before coming back to me. “It’s soul bleeding, Shane. But it’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you get it?”

“She’s not going to answer even if I call.”

“So don’t freaking call, dude. Take a stand. Make stuff happen. Go to the damn gala tonight that you’re so worried about going south and protect your damn woman.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m supposed to stay away.”

Dom studies me. “And yet you’re wound tighter than I’ve ever seen you. Why?”