Page 45 of Lovely Darkness

I want her to fight me. Scream at me. Hit me. Punish me. Hate me.

But she won’t.

Truth is something you seek. It’s not something that’s told to you.

Truth requires effort. Digging. Commitment.

Wendy Gale doesn’t want the truth. She prefers the lies. Because the lies keep her safe. The lies allow her to pretend everything is OK when it’s not.

She’s not weak for being this way. Everyone has this weakness. It’s built in to us. A protection mechanism. We like the lies—especially the lies we tell ourselves—because they feel good. They hold us close. They wrap us up in comfort and safety and we all have that in common.

We all want the same things, when you think about it.

And the lie is quick and easy. Comfort and safety come along for the ride when you’re lying to yourself. It’s a package deal.

But the truth is always long and complicated. It brings illumination. But when you turn on the lights, what do you see?

All the things you wish you hadn’t.

The truth is jarring, and earth-shattering, and life-altering.

And who the fuck wants that?

Me.

I do.

I want the truth. I want her to see the truth. I want everyone to know the truth.

But you can’t make people wake up.

And right now, Wendy is sleeping deeply.

I know this because I put her there.

This whole mess is all my fault.

And I can say Merc, or Donovan, or whoever is her cure, but it’s not true.

I’m her cure because I am her lie.

Wendy is lifting my shirt up. I die a little with pleasure when her fingertips brush along the hard muscles of my abdomen. Then I just take over. Pull the shirt over my head, toss it aside, and reach for the button of her shorts.

I’m careful with her, just like always. But she’s rough with me. As I slip her shorts down her legs, she grabs fistfuls of my hair and pushes my face towards her hips. I don’t need to be asked twice. I place my palms flat on her hip bones and use my thumbs to caress the dusting of blonde hair between her legs. She lets out a breath when I part her lips and slip my tongue between them, licking little circles around her sweet spot.

Her knees almost buckle, she loves this so much. Everything about this moment feels happy. And it occurs to me that we haven’t had a fight since the wedding. We haven’t really been together since the wedding, but close proximity has never been a requirement for arguments when it comes to Wendy and me.

She is sighing. Breathing harder. And I can feel the quick beat of her heart all the way down in her hips.

“More,” she says. And it comes out like a plea.

“Lie back on the bed.”

The bed is just behind her. So she sits and lies back.

My hands immediately cup her knees and open her legs up. I have just enough time to catch her biting her lip as I lower my face back where she wants it.

Her fingers tangle up in my hair again, pulling and pushing as I lick her with more vigor.