Chapter 23 - Evan’s Secret
Evan disappeared every Tuesday afternoon.
At first Claire barely noticed.
Then the pattern became obvious.
Three o’clock.
Phone off.
Gone until seven.
After everything they had survived, Claire hated herself for feeling suspicious.
She refused to ask.
For two weeks.
Then she found an invoice on the kitchen counter.
Family counseling services.
Her stomach tightened.
That evening, Evan walked in carrying groceries.
Claire held up the paper.
“What is this?”
He stopped.
“Where did you find that?”
“Counter.”
“Damn.”
The answer made her more nervous.
“Evan.”
He set down the bags.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist.”
Claire blinked.
“Okay.”
“Every Tuesday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Evan leaned against the counter.
“Because I was embarrassed.”
“About therapy?”
“About why.”
Claire waited.
He looked toward the window.
“I still wake up sometimes thinking I’m back on Willowmere Lane.”
Claire’s expression softened.
“The day we caught them?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were past that.”
“So did I.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Then Cross happened. The warehouse. Gunfire. Celeste showing up again.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I started getting angry about stupid things. A truck cutting me off. A subcontractor being late. Someone looking at you too long.”
Claire moved closer.
“You never showed me.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“I’m good at hiding it.”
The sentence frightened her because she understood it.
Evan continued.
“I spent years being the dependable guy. The builder. The husband. The guy who fixes problems.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t want to become a man who thinks protecting you means controlling everything around you.”
Claire thought of her father.
Marcus.
Grant.
Men who called concealment protection.
She touched Evan’s face.
“Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”
“I didn’t want you worrying.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“I know.”
He smiled faintly.
“My therapist said almost exactly that.”
“Smart therapist.”
“Expensive therapist.”
Claire laughed.
Then her eyes filled.
“Don’t hide pain from me.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise carefully.”
Evan took her hands.
“I promise to tell you when I’m struggling.”
“That’s better.”
He kissed her forehead.
Then he looked nervous.
“There’s more.”
Claire stepped back.
“There’s always more.”
“I bought something.”
“Please don’t say another hotel.”
“A house.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
“Not for us.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Claire knew Evan’s mother had lived in Arizona for years.
“She’s moving back?”
“She has early arthritis. Nothing dangerous, but she wants to be closer.”
Claire smiled.
“That’s good.”
“I used money from selling my old company stake.”
“Why hide that?”
“Because I thought you’d insist on helping.”
“I would have.”
“Exactly.”
She hit his arm lightly.
“You’re impossible.”
“Consistently.”
Then his expression changed.
“I wanted one thing in my life that wasn’t built around what happened with Celeste.”
Claire understood.
A gift for his mother.
Something clean.
Something unrelated to betrayal.
“When do I meet her?”
“Sunday.”
Claire froze.
“This Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“You waited until Thursday?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“My mother.”
That made Claire laugh harder than she had in weeks.
Evan shook his head.
“You don’t understand. She interrogates people.”
“I survived federal investigators.”
“She’s worse.”
On Sunday, Evan’s mother arrived carrying a pie and immediately asked Claire when she planned to marry her son.
Evan nearly dropped a plate.
Claire stared at him.
His mother smiled innocently.
“What? I’m seventy-two. I don’t waste time.”
May you like
For the first time in months, the biggest crisis in Claire’s life involved dessert.
She decided she could get used to that.
