46

When I get to the top of the stairs, I brace myself for what kind of mood I might find Cannon in. But he’s sitting peacefully on the couch with a beer in his hand, sipping it, as he watches a movie.

“Hey, Pipes,” he says.

“Hey,” I say, suddenly unsure of how to act in front of him.

I want to scream about the torn condom wrapper I found in his pocket and get answers to all my questions, like where he was all afternoon. But I can’t. I’m no better than he is when it comes to cheating. As much as it kills me, I hold on to his secrets and lock them up in a little box next to my own.

He gives me one of his lopsided grins and pats the cushion next to him—a sign he wants me to join him and that he doesn’t want to be alone. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, or I would have made something to eat.”

“That’s okay. I was just shopping,” I lie. Guilt wraps its ugly fingers around my throat, and I almost choke on it. This isn’t me. I’m not a liar. Only that’s exactly what I’ve turned into. “I got an