Burn

Chapter 32: Honesty

LILY

"Everything would be great if it weren't for the oozing on my right calf. At least it doesn't feel like I'm on fire anymore, so that's a big plus."

I'm on the second-floor balcony of the cabin, video chatting with Mom. It's early Wednesday morning and I'm telling her about my brush with poison ivy, and getting an update on Dad.

He's doing great, according to her and an email I'd gotten from his doctor.

My legs still itch a little, but the steroid shot is working wonders on my skin. I just hope it holds through the week and the race.

If it doesn't, I suppose I can visit the team doctor. "That sedative knocked me out, though. I slept for a solid twelve hours."

"You've always been sensitive to pharmaceuticals. Can I see the blisters?" Mom peers into the phone, looking entirely too eager. She's one of those people who has a grim fascination with pimple popping videos, so this doesn't surprise me.

She's sitting on my sofa and I'm trying to figure out if the plant next to her is dying or merely in a bad light.

"No. Max bandaged it an hour ago. Did you overwater the Monstera plant?"

She glances over. "Oh, I've watered it a couple of times."

"Mom! Stop watering. You're going to kill it." I imagine all of my plants, withered and brown, and sigh.

My father's voice booms in the background, and I wince. "Uh-oh. I thought you said he was in the bedroom?"

"He was." Mom looks away from the cell camera. "Adrian, do you need something?"

"Is that Lily?" Dad roars.

"Oh no, what now?" I whisper, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Here, talk to her. Don't just yell in the background." I almost get woozy the video on the cell screen jostles and shifts away from Mom.

My father's face fills the screen.

"Your color looks so good, Dad! You're not grey anymore."

"What's going on up there in Canada?" Dad says in a demanding voice.

Eeek. I don't like his tone at all.

"You seem to be quite alert. How are you feeling, Papa?" I use my most soothing voice.

"I'm fine. Sick of staying in bed all the damned day," he barks. "I want to know what happened to you. I saw something in the Daily Mirror. A photograph. You were in a hospital?"

Oh crap. This is bad. I remember the media at the hospital, but in my fuzzy mind, I thought it was only one reporter, and was secretly hoping it was someone from a local paper. Apparently, my sedative-addled mind didn't take in the full scene.

Funny, Max didn't say anything about a photographer this morning when we woke up.

I pause for a fraction of a second to collect my thoughts. Finally, I decide on telling him the truth. "I was hiking and fell into some poison ivy and had to go to the hospital because my legs felt like they had been dipped in lava. I have blisters."

"Uh-hunh. And why did Max bring you to the hospital?"

Somehow Dad's glossed over the blistering skin part of my story and has honed in on the part that I wanted to avoid.

My eyes shift to my coffee, to the rolling green vista of the Laurentian mountains. "We were hiking together. There's a lake here."

Dad runs his tongue across his teeth, a sure sign he's getting worked up. "Why were you hiking together?"

Because we needed to do something other than have sex, I want to yell.

"We were talking. About racing. And the team." I know I sound ridiculous. "And we both needed some exercise."

That's probably the silliest thing I've ever said in my THIRTY-TWO YEARS. Max has world-class personal trainers and a physical fitness routine. Going on a little hike for him is nothing.

"Kamari mou, I never believed those rumors about you and Max seven years ago."

"Okay?" I should tell him what's going on between Max and me. Spill my guts now and get it over with. Part of me wishes Max were here with me to share in this dubious moment. But I'd told him I was calling my parents and asked him to stay downstairs. I hold my breath, waiting to hear what Dad says next.

"But now I'm not so sure. How long has this been going on between the two of you? Tell me the truth, Lily. What is your relationship with Max?"

"We're...friends."

"Friends." His brow furrows into a deep scowl. The lines between his eyebrows are the Grand Canyon of face wrinkles.

"Yes."

"There are going to be rumors, with this photo of him pushing you out of the hospital in the wheelchair. Why couldn't you walk on your own?"

"I guess you didn't hear me when I said it felt like my legs were dipped into lava," I snark.

"Don't sass me, missy." Dad hasn't used this tone of voice with me since I was sixteen and threatened to leave boarding school to follow The Dave Matthews Band around the country.

Mom's face comes into view. "I just saw the photo, Lily. Your mouth looks weird and slack, like you're drooling. Poor baby. If I wasn't taking care of your father, I'd fly to see you. Well, and you know how much I love Quebec. You should put some apple cider vinegar on your skin."

"Mom," I warn through gritted teeth. "I'm at a vacation cabin. I don't carry around apple cider vinegar."

"Where is Max now? Is he with you in the cabin?" Dad's voice is a low growl. He's not a stupid man. He knows something's up. "Maybe I should call him."

I lick my lips. "Dad, this really isn't a good time to talk. I need to get to Montreal, and my cell reception is terrible here in the cabin. Can we chat later? I'll call you once I check into the hotel, and I need to call the doctor and let him know my legs are doing better. They were so lovely at the hospital." I babble on for a few seconds about the excellent health care.

Dad's nostrils flare. "Fine. But I'm begging you to not embarrass me or the team this weekend. I should be back in a race or two."

"I won't, Dad, I promise. And please don't rush back on my account. I've been trying to hold it together for you."

"I know, and from what Jack told me, you're doing a good job. But we don't need any scandals."

The subtext: a team owner sleeping with the star driver would be the scandal of the century in this sport.

"Okay, gotta run, love you both!"

I blow Mom and Dad kisses goodbye, knowing I've already broken my promise.