The Lies That We Tell

Chapter 15

Well this trip was one giant cluster fuck of bullshit and revelations. Tate was released from the hospital, and the detectives thought the best option was for Tate to join Rhyann at the hotel since they are both targets. Adrian thought it’s best if Dev and I were there too.

Tate mentioned letting Aubree know, but the detectives told us the less people who know where we all are, the better. Then they left us with their usual We’ll be in touch. I don’t know where Devon went after he stormed out of the hospital room, and none of us have any idea what was said between him and Rhyann, but I have a sick feeling as I drive my brother’s Jeep back to the hotel.

Tate sits quietly, typing away on his phone next to me. “Aubree is pissed,” he says, looking up. “She wants me to come stay at her fathers house with her.”

I try to hold back my grimace. I really hate that woman. “Is that what you want?” I ask my friend.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I really don’t know. She’s my fiancee, but I’m so disappointed in the things she’s done recently.”

I know what he’s referring to. Apparently, he was oblivious to the online engagement announcement that was made this morning, and when Adrian told him what happened with Rhyann last night, all Tate could do was call himself a piece of shit and swear he needed to apologize to Rhyann. “Did you ask Aubree about the announcement and why she lied about Rhyann and Devon?” The nosy old lady that lives in my head got the better of me and I can’t help but ask for the tea.

“No, she ignored my question and went on to whining about me being anywhere but with her,” Tate sighs and adjusts the hospital gown. No one was prepared for the doctor to release him this early, so no one thought to bring the man a change of clothes.

When we left, his father went to pick up some things for him from the apartment and plans to meet us at the hotel later. He said that we all need to sit and have a family discussion in light of the revelations in the hospital room. The poor man became distraught when Tate explained what his mother had told him when he was thirteen. He looked betrayed and brokenhearted. But the love for the son he raised, regardless of Tate”s bloodline, was front and center when he looked at his son. Adrian Crawford was and still is more of a father to both Tate and Rhyann than any man could have ever been.

“You okay?” I ask my best friend, pulling up to the valet station in front of the hotel.

“No,” he says bluntly.

“Wanna talk about it?” I can’t help but ask.

“No,” he says, reaching for the door handle. “I just want to shower, and make a phone call.”