Free Matter of Truth, A by Heather Lyons

I had a choice.”
    Will’s eyes are so dark, and yet, probably the most
expressive I’ve ever seen. Right now, he’s staring at me with an uncomfortable
mix of pity and I knew it! “What kind of job?”
    Admitting I’m a Creator would go over well, I’m sure.
Magicals have too often been thought of as monsters by nons who know nothing of
our kind. “I can’t tell you that. Can you trust me enough to—”
    “Of course I trust you.” His smile is small but genuine.
“And, Zo, more importantly—you can trust me.”
    “Us,” Cameron clarifies. He motions to the recliner near the
couch, and I sit down on the edge, Nell hopping up behind me. I don’t want to
rock. I’m too nervous to do anything but perch on the edge and await my fate.
    But hearing Will call me that name, that nickname that’s
just his to use, is too much. I need to correct it immediately, even if I might
as well be signing my death warrant. “About that. My name isn’t Zoe.”
    I worry I’ve frozen time again, because both men still
completely—Cameron with his beer halfway to his mouth, Will while reaching for
his own drink.
    I want to whisper, but I force my voice to carry across the
living room. “Zoe is the name I chose when I came to Anchorage.”
    They’re regarding me like I’m the fraud I am. And I hate it.
But if they’re gonna despise me, they’re gonna do it with all the info I can
give. I touch my hair. “This isn’t my real hair color.” My index finger traces
my lower lash line. “My eyes aren’t really blue.” I scrub my face tiredly. “My
parents aren’t . . . they’re not dead. But they’ve pretty much disowned me, so
it sort of feels like I’m orphaned. I’m from California, but not Hollywood. I
lived near San Francisco.” I press my hand over my heart. I think it’s breaking
again. It’s a thing, my heart and breaking. It happens way too often. “Please
believe me when I tell you I’ve never lied about how I feel about you two.”
    Will reaches out and lightly presses his fingers against my
hair, like it’s brittle and he’s afraid it will clump off if there’s too much
pressure.
    I have to keep going, though. I owe it to them. To me. “The
job . . . it was hard, yes. But I was also . . .” My lower lip trembles. “I am
. . . maybe was engaged.” I nod once. “And it was . . . amazing, really,
but also complicated, because I cheated on him.”
    Will’s hand falls away from my hair as he drops back onto
the couch.
    I fight to keep my voice above a whisper when I admit the
crime I rarely let myself acknowledge. “I hate myself for it. I’m not . . .
I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” Or, worse
yet, who I am.
    There’s surprise in Will’s eyes. Pity, too. And more than a
wee bit of scorn, because the wound Becca and Grant’s cheating inflicted hasn’t
healed fully, and he knows just how much that can gut a soul. Cameron,
though—he’s all pity, and it slays me to see him look at me like that. Like he
wants to give me a hug and tell me it’s all going to be all right.
    Like a dad should, even when his daughter makes the wrong
choices. Even when she’s breaking his heart.
    I draw in another shuddery breath. “So, here I am. Zoe
White, in Anchorage, Alaska. That guy at the Moose—I think he’s from my work. I
think they’re looking for me.”
    So much of me wants to ramble on right now, justify what I
did and why, but fear smothers me in its grip. I was going to lose the Dane
boys anyway once I ran again, but this might be worse. They might willingly
choose to kick me out of their lives—especially Will, whose trust has been
broken too many times to count, too.
    He ends up chugging his beer before staring at the ceiling.
Then he gets up, paces the room a few times, all the while looking lost and
pissed at the same time while I remain statue still on the recliner.
    Cameron says quietly, “What is your real name, hen?”
    I tell him the truth. Will