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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Vera’s voice cracked again. ‘You’re all I have left, Lucy.’

‘You too,’ I said. And I meant it.

Penguin walking logo

FORTY-FOUR

Back at my house, Vera got me settled, made sure the heat was on, the milk in my fridge was still good, before leaving me alone. I went straight to bed, though I knew I needed to get Dusty, but I hardly had the energy to move; I was exhausted from two nights in a hospital, from the accident, from the pain still searing my neck.

My phone was finally charging properly – the hospital chargers had been shit – and I allowed myself one check before attempting to sleep. On Instagram, I found Davis’s page. There it was, another photo. Him in Brooklyn. He’d posted one yesterday – as well as the day before – after more than two months of silence on the platform.

He’s finally given up, I told myself again. You’re okay.

Still, I slept fitfully. Between dreams I couldn’t quite remember but that were unsettling all the same, my mind turned to the photos of John, the note he’d left me, the scarf of my mother’s. Why had Sam taken them, and what did he plan to do with them? Could he do anything, now that he’d been arrested? Was I, for once, actually safe?

Around two, a knock on the door jostled me out of sleep. Through the window, I saw Maggie, and at her feet –

‘Dusty,’ I called as I whipped the door open.

He bounded toward me, his leash trailing against the floor, jumping onto my knees and covering my face with kisses. He was so warm, so fuzzy, he reminded me that not everything in the world was bad. I scooped him into my arms and stood. ‘Thank you so much for taking care of him. You want to come in?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Only if you don’t mind.’

I made her tea as Dusty circled my feet, begging for more scratches. When it was done, I set the cups on the coffee table, and Dusty hopped into my lap.

‘Was he good, I hope?’

She smiled crookedly. ‘He’s a quick learner,’ she said. ‘And I’ve always been good with dogs.’

‘I’m sure.’

I sipped my tea the liquid warm, bolstering.

‘Are you in pain?’ Maggie asked. ‘My daughter – she was actually in a bad accident a few years ago.’

‘Oh god,’ I said. ‘Really? And after your husband, too. I’m so sorry.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. She’s okay now. It just took a lot of rehabilitation and physical therapy to manage the pain. She lives in L.A. with her husband. She’s your age, actually, or maybe a little older. I don’t see her as much as I’d like, but who does, when we all live so far apart?’