White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) Read Free Page B

it with him being an undercover cop. However, he said he’d be home tonight in his note, which meant he wasn’t undercover.
    I let out another sigh. I hated Alex being an undercover cop because I knew the situation was less than ideal for someone diagnosed with PSTD. A few times, I asked him how he passed the medical assessments to become an undercover cop. The doctor we’d visited together signed the release. No doubt the doctor was a quack. I hadn’t trusted him from the second I entered his office. But Alex refused to get a second opinion. A shudder ran through me at the memory of some of the fights we had when I questioned him. The subject was closed. Period.
    At times, I had to pick my battles, and the doctor’s diagnosis was an already lost battle.
    I had a number to call in emergencies while Alex was working, but wondering about his location wasn’t justifiable. Thank goodness a need to use the number never arose.
    My phone dinged, and for a moment I thought it might be Alex. The caller ID confirmed it as Carson. Still, a smile formed at the familiar name. We’d been each other’s best friend since we were in preschool—a brother I never had. On the playground, I used to make him be my pretend husband when all the girls wanted to play marriage. He hated every second of being the groom.
     
    Carson: Worried about you with how upset you were last night. How did it go with the lawyer?
    Me: I didn’t go yet. Alex showed up and we talked. He’s coming home tonight and I’m going to see if it’s salvageable.
    Carson: I’m here for you. Let me know if you need anything even if it’s simply to talk. I come home in a few days. Let’s get together. Mom and Dad want to see you, too.
    Me: I’d love that. Let me know when you’re available.
    Carson: I will. I’ll check in later after my meetings.
    Me: Knock ‘em dead.
    Carson: I’ll try.
     
    I tucked my phone away. Currently, Carson was overseas tending to his hotels. One of their hotels in Italy currently had issues. He’d been there a lot over the last two months. The Whitmore Hotels were a five-star hotel chain unlike any other in their extravagance. I was proud of my best friend and all he’d accomplished.
    Entering the studio, I stopped and looked at the half dozen unfinished works taunting me to finish them. But nothing came. I had no idea what was missing in them. Another couple dozen blank canvases stared at me from against the wall.
    For hours I stared at them, willing inspiration to strike. It hadn’t in a long time. Nothing was going to be solved until Alex arrived home. Until then, painting would pass the time.
    Quickly, I whipped my blonde hair into a messy bun. Then grabbed one of my white, paint-splattered, button-up work shirts that swallowed my small frame.
    The images from earlier began to flow as I looked at the blank slate before me. Taking my paintbrush, I hovered over the pallet, figuring out which colors to pick. My hand shook as it had the last time I tried to paint. I tried to push the negative aside. My mind lost focus while the painting block returned, and my spirits plummeted as I worked to recapture the inspiration.
    A picture of Alex and me caught my attention. It was from college before he left. We were happy. In love—like last night. His arms were wrapped around my shoulders while my lavender-grey eyes stared at the camera.
    When the shutter on the camera clicked to capture the moment, I remembered thinking I’d found my happily ever after.
    Love. We’d been in love then. I knew it.
    I remembered the note from this morning and pulled it out of my jeans pocket, tracing the words. There was still hope. I looked again at the picture, wondering how we allowed ourselves to get so lost.
    Grabbing my palette, I mixed my mediums as I kept glancing at the note, which now lay on the nearby stool. As I brought my paint brush up to the canvas, my hands shook again. I closed my eyes and felt the wood of the handle. I thought of the