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She nods. “And anyway, Trent. In case you didn’t know, youaremy life.”

Fuck.Fuck.

Four

Kat

What hereallydoesn’t know, and what I hope he never finds out, is that I’ve been working at the Velvet Touch. It’s exactly as bad as it sounds.

In our letters, I told him I was finding freelance jobs from the internet and doing some payroll work for a local ‘bar’.

I also told him I sold our parent’s house and they’d left some savings in a trust for us both. That seemed to comfort him, knowing I had what I needed and financially, things were okay. They weren’t but there was no way I was laying that on his shoulders from half a world away. I shouldn’t have lied and the day of reconning is coming when I have to fess up and tell him the house was upside down from a reserve mortgage they did with some shady financial advisor.

They’d put all their trust into some ‘expert’ they met at one of those free steak dinner deals where they lure you in with a fancy meal then sign you up for their bullshit. Dad worked hardhis entire life as a plumber, but he never graduated high school and he didn’t know anything about investing and reverse mortgages and whatever other sunshine the asshole blew their way. They died destitute and if Trent knew what had happened, I’m sure the guy would be dead.

As well, if I told him that the local ‘bar’ was actually The Velvet Touch? Ugg. It’s a gritty, purple cinderblock hole of a strip club over on Marshall Avenue, where only every other street-light works and every last bit of metal has been stripped off all the buildings. The kind of area the cops don’t come unless there’s a dead body in the road.

“So, no bullshit Kat, how are you?” he asks, shifting his muscular legs into a wide man-spread. Taking up space. Making his presence felt. God, I’ve missed him so much. “Been staying out of trouble?”

I know he’s kidding. Me? In trouble? Never. But things have changed since he left. If only he knew I’ve been keeping myself triple-locked behind my apartment door, paying cash for everything, and leasing my dingy little place under an assumed name. Things haven’t been great. Not at all.

But after what he just told me?I flat-lined for 33 seconds.None of it seems all that important.

“I’m good. Just, keeping busy. Still have my Sudoku obsession. And, I found this huge box of macramé yarn on the side of the road so I’ve been macrame’ing everything. I’m going to macramé a bed side table next.” I smile as I hear his soft chuckle. “I still go see Karen Murphy now and then at the bowling alley. Her dad still owns the place and he’s as crazy as ever. Then, there’s work. Still doing bookkeeping and payroll stuff.” I manage telling myself I’m not technically lying about my work.

The Velvet Touch’s owner did me a favor, hiring me for cash with no W-2’s or ID needed. I’m grateful. The pay is decent. Well. Decentishand at least I don’t have to jiggle my tah-tahs toget it. Not that I judge those that do, I’m just pretty sure I’d suck at it.

“Those bookkeeping classes really paid off,” I add with a sarcastic flex of my biceps.

But I’m deflecting. I know it and he knows it. There’s a heaviness between us. The big thing we still haven’t discussed. The fact that since he left, our lives have gone upside down and now all we have in the world is each other.

He’s the brave one and tackles it first. “But how are you, Kat? Not hobbies, not work,you.”

I shift behind the wheel of the Jeep, feeling smaller, but I’m grateful I’m driving. Because there’s no way I’d be able to look him straight in the eye right now.

There was a time when I kept no secrets from him. But now I feel like a ball of secrets. And the one person in the world I want to tell everything is the one person that I can’t tell a single thing.

My parents died only two months after he deployed. He was in deep cover somewhere, when they were killed by a drunk driver. They were coming home from choir practice at First Baptist in Chantsbury. My dad was in his favorite sports coat. And my mom was wearing her locket with photos of me and Trent inside.

For days and days, I held on to that news alone. For two weeks, I checked Trent’s status on Zoom and WhatsApp hourly, even in the middle of the night. Especially in the middle of the night, when I should be asleep but I knew he’d be awake. Waiting. And watching. And agonizing about how to tell him the news.

I knew there was a way to reach out and get in touch with him for an emergency, but thinking of laying that on him whenhe was on some deep, secret mission didn’t seem fair. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

By the time he resurfaced, I’d already made all the plans. Already had a small funeral. And really, I couldn’t think about it anymore. I begged him not to come home. Told him it would break my heart to see him right then. He was preparing for another mission and coming home wasn’t an easy option anyway.

But it was more than that. Lots more. For now, I keep that buried—not to stop myself from thinking how much I miss them, but buried to keep myself safe.

Yet, from the buried place, I remember the black Mercedes that slipped away before the police could arrive.

My life depends on keeping that memory secret.

Even from Trent. Who I trust with my life. Who has protected me from so much.

“I’m fine,” I finally offer. “Really. But it hasn’t been easy. I didn’t need the money you sent, but thank you anyway. I told you a hundred times in the letters to stop sending it but I want you to know I appreciate it anyway. And I’m glad you’re back.”

“It wasn’t much. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t come back when it happened,” Trent shakes his head.

“I asked you not to come. I don’t know why, but having it over and moving on helped me.”