The truth in my lies, p.1
The Truth in My Lies, page 1
The Truth in My Lies
L.A. Witt
Contents
Artificial Intelligence
The Truth in My Lies
1. Seth
2. Brandon
3. Seth
4. Brandon
5. Seth
6. Brandon
7. Seth
8. Brandon
9. Seth
10. Brandon
11. Seth
12. Brandon
13. Seth
14. Brandon
15. Seth
16. Brandon
17. Seth
18. Brandon
19. Seth
20. Brandon
21. Seth
22. Brandon
23. Seth
24. Brandon
25. Seth
26. Brandon
Epilogue - Seth
Also by L.A. Witt
Also by L.A. Witt
About the Author
Copyright Information
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
The Truth in My Lies
First edition
Copyright © 2024 L.A. Witt
* * *
Cover Art by L.A. Witt
Editor: Mackenzie Walton
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact L.A. Witt at gallagherwitt@gmail.com
* * *
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64230-182-3
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-87722-588-6
Created with Vellum
Artificial Intelligence
No artificial intelligence was used in the making of this book or any of my books. This includes writing, co-writing, cover artwork, translation, and audiobook narration.
I do not consent to any Artificial Intelligence (AI), generative AI, large language model, machine learning, chatbot, or other automated analysis, generative process, or replication program to reproduce, mimic, remix, summarize, train from, or otherwise replicate any part of this creative work, via any means: print, graphic, sculpture, multimedia, audio, or other medium. This applies to all existing AI technology and any that comes into existence in the future.
I support the right of humans to control their artistic works.
The Truth in My Lies
It’s been months since Seth Byrne’s boyfriend ghosted him. Seth is still angry, but he’s worried too, because when Andrew Keller disappeared, he completely disappeared. Disconnected phone. Empty apartment. Abrupt departure from his job. Gone.
* * *
Until tonight.
* * *
Just as Seth is beginning to move on, Andrew shows up at his door with a story so wild it has to be fake… except he’s armed with a stack of evidence proving he’s telling the truth. And the truth is that everything Seth knew about Andrew is a lie.
* * *
Detective Brandon Gaines was supposed to be Andrew Keller for the rest of his life. After being marked for death by the white supremacist cops he tried to bring down, he was put into witness protection. When a chain of events returns him to his old identity, Brandon doesn’t know who he is anymore. Now he’s caught between two identities that don’t fit, and nothing in his world makes sense… except the way he feels about the man he left behind.
* * *
Is it even possible to rekindle their relationship when Seth knows nothing about Brandon? He understands why Brandon had to lie, but that doesn’t change the fact that the man in front of him is a stranger. Where do they even start?
* * *
But as they struggle to bridge the gap between them, they may have much bigger problems.
* * *
Because there are people who do know who Brandon is.
* * *
And they haven’t forgotten why they drove him into witness protection in the first place.
* * *
The Truth in My Lies is a standalone gay romantic suspense novel.
Chapter 1
Seth
“Bro, it’s been months.” My housemate, Marcus, watched me across our small kitchen, his eyes full of sympathy. “You’ll probably feel a lot better when you start putting yourself out there again.”
I shook my head and returned my attention to the sandwich I was making. I wasn’t even all that hungry, but I needed to eat after my long shift or I’d feel like crap later. As I went through the motions of arranging ham, lettuce, cheese, and some condiments, I said over my shoulder, “I’ve looked, okay? I downloaded Tinder, and I looked through it, but…” I sighed as I shook the mustard bottle before putting some on the sandwich. “Man, I’m just not there yet.”
He exhaled. “Do you really think you’re going to get there if you keep pining after that fucker?”
With my back safely to Marcus, I rolled my eyes. We’d had variations of this conversation almost nightly for weeks now, and I doubted we were going to stop any time soon. “I am not pining after him.”
“So you say.”
I started collecting jars and packages to return to the fridge, and I shot him a look. “We’ve been over this. Like, a hundred times this week alone.” I paused to put everything away. As I moved my assembled sandwich to the kitchen table, I added, “I’ve never had a breakup like this. I don’t know how to get over it.”
“You get over it the same way you got over that one asshole who kept cheating on you.” He popped the tab on a beer can. “You go get naked with some other dudes until you’re all, ‘Andrew, who?’”
I flinched at the mention of my ex’s name, and I concentrated on cutting my sandwich instead of looking at my housemate. “This isn’t the same.”
“How is it different?” Marcus let the exasperation show this time as he dropped into the other chair. “That asshole ghosted you. Just because he was too much of a coward to tell you to your face why he was leaving, or even send you a damn text, doesn’t mean—”
“It is different.” I glared across the table at him. “It would be one thing if he just stopped talking to me. But he’s gone. Like…gone. I can’t even get to the part where he’s a coward and an asshole because I can’t stop thinking something happened to him.” My voice wavered a little as I whispered, “I’m worried about him.”
“Seth. My dude.” Marcus groaned and covered his face with both hands. Then he let them fall to the table, and he met my glare. “Would you stop being a cop about this? Don’t you think you of all people would know if something had happened to him?”
I avoided his gaze. He had a point, and he’d made it dozens of times recently, but it still grated because yes, I should have known if something had happened to Andrew. Which meant either I was an incompetent cop or…
Or he really had just ghosted the fuck out of me.
“I know you want closure,” Marcus said softly, “but closure is a lie.”
“Not in this case,” I said. “Because at least then I’d know for sure if he’s okay, and then I could hate him for ghosting me instead of wondering if he’s dead in the woods somewhere.”
Marcus inclined his head. “Dead in the woods, with his cell phone disconnected, his apartment empty, and his car MIA.”
There was that. “But who the fuck clears out his house, shuts off his phone, and blows town in the dead of night?”
“Uh, drug dealers? Murderers? Cheating cowards?” Marcus quirked his lips, then shrugged. “Literally no one worth pining over?”
I glared at my housemate.
He shrugged again without an ounce of repentance. “Am I wrong?”
I wanted to say he was, but too many years of dating douchebags and arresting criminals kind of eroded any arguments I might’ve had in Andrew’s favor. I picked at the crust on my sandwich. “I still think something about it wasn’t right.”
Marcus groaned again. “What wasn’t right is that he strung you along for three fucking years, and then he disappeared on you. I know it’s hard to accept, and I know there’s no closure for something like that, but that’s because he’s a douche. And now you’re letting your life go on without you because you can’t move on without him.”
Ouch. Marcus had never been one to pull punches, but… ouch.
“Look, it’s easy to say I should just get over him and go get laid,” I said. “It’s a whole different thing to actually get him out of my mind and move on.” I sighed and finally picked up the sandwich I’d been ignoring. “It wouldn’t be fair to whoever came next, you know?”
As I took a bite, Marcus tsked. “Seth. No hookup is going to care if your mind is someplace else as long as your dick or your mouth are in the right place.”
I actually managed to laugh at that, and ironically I damn near choked on my food. After I’d swallowed it—without choking—I said, “I get it. I really do. And maybe… I don’t know. Give me a little more time.”
“Seth. Seth.” Marcus flattened his palms on the table. “How much more time?”
God, I was tired of having this conversation with him. Especia
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “If I knew, then I probably wouldn’t need any more time, would I?”
He stared at me as I took another bite, and then he rolled his eyes and sat back. “Okay. Fine. But I still think you’ll feel better after you put yourself out there.”
“Yes. I know.” I exhaled. “You’ve thought that every other night since he left.” I shot him a pointed look. “Can I just eat my dinner and relax after my shift? It’s been a long day.”
He gave one of those sighs that said he was dropping it for now, but this wasn’t over. It was for tonight, but it definitely wasn’t over.
Ugh. I need to put in for night shift.
After another bite of my sandwich, I said, “So how are things going with Lisa?” Marcus had also split with his ex a few months ago, and he’d been slow to take his own advice and put himself out there again. That is, until Lisa had strolled into his life very recently and convinced him to give her a shot. Now she was apparently helping him move the hell on from whatshername by way of some way too-loud sex, and Marcus was suddenly the resident expert on getting over people.
He sipped his beer. “Well, things would be better if—”
The doorbell cut him off.
We both glanced toward the front door, then looked at each other. The instincts I’d honed as a cop had prickles of paranoia creeping up my spine. Contrary to what this job tried to convince me, though, the vast majority of people showing up unexpectedly at doors were not home invaders, scammers, murderers, or whatever. Still…
“You expecting anyone?” I asked.
“No.” Marcus’s lips quirked, and then he stood as his expression brightened several degrees. “Lisa probably just got off early and didn’t text. Be right back.”
“Good luck,” I called after him with a laugh, and continued eating my dinner. Maybe my housemate was right. Maybe I did need to put myself out there again. Just…not yet. I needed to—
“What the fuck are you doing here?” The venom in Marcus’s voice made my head snap toward the hallway as all those cop instincts surged back to the surface.
And then came the response that almost knocked me on my ass:
“Is Seth home?”
Oh my God. Even as quietly as he was speaking, I’d have recognized that voice anywhere.
Hands shaking, I put my sandwich down. “Andrew?” I whispered into the stillness of the kitchen. He was here? Okay, so he was alive. Nothing had happened to him. Nothing like I’d envisioned during the last few months of sleepless nights.
But then…what did happen? Where the fuck had he been? Why had he left?
And why in God’s name was he here?
Stomping feet came up the hall, and Marcus swept into the kitchen. “You wanted closure.” He pointed sharply toward the front door. “It’s waiting for you on the porch.”
I swallowed. “It’s… That’s Andrew at the door?”
“Yes, and you might want to go talk to him before I just boot him out of here and—”
“Calm down, calm down.” I got up and started past him. “I’ll talk to him.”
Marcus said something I didn’t catch over the thumping of my heart. The door was partly closed, but the porch light was on, and I could see a silhouette through the frosted glass.
Andrew.
Here.
Right outside.
All kinds of emotions fought for dominance in my chest and in my head. This wasn’t like going up to a house on a call and not knowing what waited for me on the other side, but it kind of was. I knew who was on the other side. I just didn’t know why. Or where he’d been. Or what he was going to say. Or whether I wanted to throw my arms around him, throw him off my porch, or throw up on his shoes.
With my heart in my throat, I opened the door, and for the first time in almost five months… there he was.
He looked different now. Clean-shaven instead of with that ever-present short beard. His hair was lighter—more of a reddish blond than the dark brown I remembered.
But holy shit, I knew those eyes. Hazel. Intense. Soft, but knowing.
God, yeah, that was Andrew. No two ways about it.
Where have you been? I wanted to demand, but all that came out was, “Andrew?”
He shifted his weight, his leather jacket squeaking with the movement. “Hey.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I had no idea what to say. He didn’t seem all that sure either.
Finally, he asked, “Can I come in?”
I didn’t move. Voice hardening, I said, “First, tell me why you’re here.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “Because I owe you some answers.”
Oh. Well. That was unexpected.
I stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. After a second of hesitation, he did, pausing to take off his shoes like he always had.
In silence, we moved to the living room, but Marcus had just sat down with his laptop, so we went into the kitchen instead. My sandwich still waited for me on the table beside my untouched soda.
“Do you, um…” I cleared my throat. “Do you want anything to drink?” I didn’t know why I was offering him anything. Habit? Politeness? Nerves? Hell if I knew.
“No, thanks,” he said softly. “I’m good.”
“Okay. I was just…” I gestured at my plate. “I was just getting dinner. Do you mind if I keep working on it?”
“Of course not. Go ahead.” As we sat down, he added, “I’m sorry I caught you in the middle of dinner. I just, um, wanted to get here before you went to sleep.”
Why was it so weird that he remembered my routine? That a lot of times, I came home after work, ate, then wound down for maybe an hour before calling it a night?
I reached for my sandwich, but then put my hands in my lap. Who was I kidding? I was way too queasy to think about eating right now. “So. Answers?”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze, and that was when I noticed the thick manila folder he’d been carrying under his arm. I’d seen it, but it hadn’t really registered on top of everything else. He put it on the table and rested his hands on top of it, and he stared down at them as he drummed his fingers.
Silence hung between us. We both eyed the folder warily, and then I let my gaze slide up to study him. I’d been a cop long enough to read body language like a damn billboard, and Andrew was definitely nervous. He was twitchy and edgy, his fingers tapping and—from the way his body moved slightly—his knee bouncing under the table. That sent up all kinds of red flags with some suspects, but I knew Andrew well enough to know this was him when he was nervous, not when he was lying.
Oh, I’d seen him lie before. When he’d taken a call in the other room and made sure to tell me who he’d been talking to, even when I didn’t ask. Or when he’d taken off for a weekend and had a detailed account of going fishing with his cousin in Montana. He didn’t get twitchy when he lied. He got shifty. Fidgeting in his seat. Constantly changing the way he sat or stood. Holding eye contact in that way that said he knew avoiding eye contact was incriminating, but he was overcompensating just slightly. He probably had no idea he was doing any of it or that I was trained to notice, but I had.
And he wasn’t doing any of that tonight.
So, yeah, he was nervous, just not in the way a suspect was when he was trying to lie his way out of a corner he’d backed himself into. Which meant whatever he’d come to tell me, it was probably the truth. And that made me nervous, because I suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted to know why he’d vanished into thin air or why he was back again tonight.
