14. Cici
CICI
The sunset over the lake was exceptional tonight.
Bands of orange, pink, and gold stretched across the water, reflecting off the calm surface like someone had spilled paint across the lake.
Or maybe it wasn't the sunset.
Maybe it was the company I was keeping.
Todd had stayed the entire afternoon. He hadn't tried to leave. He never checked his watch, not that I saw anyhow. Hadn't asked me for anything really.
After realizing my face had suddenly been plastered all over the internet, he'd quietly stayed by my side. But seeing the photo of me running yesterday was what truly rattled me. Had someone simply recognized me and snapped the picture, or were they actively seeking me out?
I was very unsettled by the entire situation.
But I have to admit, it was comforting having Todd here.
A few times his phone rang. Each time, he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
His expression never changed. Then he'd slide it right back into his pocket without answering.
I finally laughed after the fourth call.
"You know most people answer their phones."
Todd looked over at me.
"Most people aren't sitting here with you."
My stomach filled with butterflies.
I hated that it did.
Especially because he didn't seem to realize the effect he had on me. Or maybe he did. I wasn’t sure. The man was impossible to read sometimes.
By the time the sun dipped below the trees, Todd announced he was making dinner. I expected that maybe we would order takeout.
Instead, he opened my refrigerator like he'd lived here for years.
"Do you always invite yourself into people's kitchens?" I asked.
"Only when they're emotionally exhausted."
I snorted.
"That's oddly specific."
"It happens more often than you'd think."
A half hour later he was standing at my grill with his sleeves rolled up. He was drinking a beer with one hand and held a spatula with the other.
The sight was unfair. Completely freaking unfair. The man looked like he belonged in a luxury watch advertisement.
Instead, he was flipping hamburgers on my deck. I placed the salad bowl on the table and took a seat. He plated the burgers and joined me.
"Dinner is served," he announced.
I looked at the plates and then back at him.
"Thank you."
Todd blinked.
"For what?"
"For feeding me when I probably would've eaten crackers for dinner."
Something softened in his expression.
"You're welcome."
I smiled.
I raised my burger in acknowledgement and took a bite.
The difference was immediate. The meat was juicy without dripping everywhere, the outside perfectly charred while the center stayed tender and flavorful. Somehow he'd managed to hit that magical middle ground I never seemed capable of finding.
I stared at the burger for a second before looking back at him.
"So this is how a burger is supposed to taste."
Todd grinned.
"Have you been doing it wrong your entire life?"
"Maybe."
I took another bite and made a sound of approval.
"Mine are usually either hockey pucks or a health code violation."
He laughed.
Cook it for three and a half minutes per side. It will be juicy every time.
"Thanks for the cooking lesson."
"Anytime."
He pointed at his plate.
"Exceptional presentation helps also."
I looked down at my plate. I didn't even notice that he had sliced an orange as a garnish.
"Exceptional presentation?"
"Garnish helps."
That made me laugh.
"You just make things up with complete confidence, don't you?"
"It's one of my best qualities."
His mouth twitched.
For the first time all day, I felt something inside me ease.
The stress of the viral video and the continuing fallout was still there along with worrying about Grammy. But it wasn't crushing me anymore.
Not tonight with him sitting across from me.
A strange realization considering I'd only known Todd Archer for a few weeks.
The sky had turned dark by the time we carried our plates inside. We settled onto opposite ends of the couch.
The television played quietly in the background. I wasn't paying attention. Apparently neither was Todd.
He was watching me.
"What?" I asked.
"You said something earlier."
My stomach tightened.
"What did I say?"
"After you saw the photos."
Of course he remembered. Todd remembered everything.
I leaned my head back against the couch.
"Remind me."
His gaze remained steady.
"You said you refuse to let your life be built on lies."
I blinked.
That had been hours ago.
"You remember that?"
"Yeah."
I stared at him for a second.
Most people would have forgotten the comment within a half hour. Todd hadn't. He waited patiently. Giving me room to sit with it.
I looked toward the dark lake visible through the windows.
"I was seventeen."
His expression softened.
I took a breath.
"I wasn't supposed to hear the conversation."
Todd stayed quiet.
"I came home from school early. My mom and my sister were arguing in the kitchen."
Even now, all these years later, I could still hear their voices.
The anger.
The accusations.
The hurt.
"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop."
"You just heard it."
I nodded.
"Yeah."
I swallowed.
"My sister was crying."
The words felt strange.
They always did.
"My mom told her she needed to stop acting like a child and take responsibility."
Todd frowned slightly.
I continued.
"Then my sister said something I'll never forget."
I looked down at my hands.
"She said she never wanted me to find out the truth."
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The memories, sharper.
"At first I didn't understand what she meant."
Todd didn't interrupt.
"Then she said she was sorry."
I laughed once. The sound held no humor.
"Not sorry for what she'd done. Sorry she'd ever agreed to give me away."
Todd went completely still.
I looked up.
Understanding flashed across his face.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
My voice came out quieter than before.
"The woman I thought was my sister was actually my mother."
The words still hurt. God, even after all these years.
"The woman I thought was my mother was my grandmother."
Todd slowly shook his head.
"Cici..."
"And Grammy?"
I looked toward the lake.
"She's my great-grandmother."
Silence settled between us. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just heavy.
I rubbed my palms against my skirt.
"Everything I believed about myself changed in about thirty seconds."
Todd exhaled slowly.
"That's a hell of a thing for a seventeen-year-old to find out."
My throat tightened because that was exactly it. There was no judgment in his voice, no pity or awkward sympathy. Just understanding.
"I remember sitting on the floor in my bedroom afterward."
I smiled sadly.
"I kept thinking if they lied about that, what else wasn't true?"
Todd watched me carefully.
"Did you confront them?"
I nodded.
"Eventually."
"How'd it go?"
I laughed softly.
"Terribly."
That earned a small smile from him.
"My grandmother said they were trying to protect me."
"And your mother?"
I hesitated.
"She said she thought giving me a stable life was the right thing to do."
Todd considered that.
"Do you believe her?"
The answer surprised me.
"Yes."
I do now. Maybe not then.
"I think everyone involved was trying to do what they thought was best."
"That doesn't make it hurt less."
"No."
I shook my head.
"It doesn't."
The room fell quiet again, the television continued playing in the background. The steady murmur of voices and music blended into the evening, but I barely noticed it.
Suddenly, exhaustion settled over me with surprising force.
Not just physical tiredness, though that was certainly part of it, but the kind of exhaustion that came from carrying too much for too long.
Emotionally drained, physically worn out, and overwhelmed by everything the day had brought, I felt like I had nothing left to give.
Todd's shoulder brushed mine. At some point we'd both shifted closer together on the couch. I hadn't even noticed.
"No wonder lies bother you."
I glanced up at him. His expression was gentle and honest, free of judgment or criticism. There was only understanding.
Something inside me loosened. Maybe because someone finally got it. Maybe because he wasn't trying to tell me I should be over it by now. Maybe because he was simply listening.
I rested my head against his shoulder just for a second. At least that was the plan. Todd didn't move.
I couldn't help giving in to the exhaustion pulling at me. My eyes drifted closed. I vaguely felt Todd adjust beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.
I should move. I should sit up. I should tell him this was a bad idea.
Instead, I curled closer.
For the first time all day, the weight on my chest felt lighter.
The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was Todd's steady heartbeat beneath my ear.
And somehow it was exactly what I needed.