Page 34 of Open Secrets (Infidelity #5)
Lyle — Thursday
The office feels smaller today. Maybe it’s the way Maria sits closer to me on the sofa. Or maybe it’s just me—the walls pressing in because I know Dr. Nina’s going to turn her questions on me this time.
“Lyle,” she says gently, notebook balanced on her knee, “I’d like to start with you today.”
My shoulders stiffen. I’ve been through debriefs, interrogations, after-action reports. This should be nothing. But this isn’t about strategy or logistics—it’s about me.
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Well,” she says, “Maria has kept me apprised of the situation. I’d like to hear your side of it.”
I shrug. “It’s the same.”
She just waits. Doesn’t fill the silence. Doesn’t save me from it.
Finally, I let the words come. “I used to think I was a good partner. And then I realized—” I laugh, short and bitter. “Actually, I was made to realize—that I was selfish. That I tried to control everything without caring how the other person felt.”
Dr. Nina tilts her head slightly. “Can you elaborate?”
I drag a hand down my face. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Turns out… most of the big decisions in our life? They were mine. Even when they weren’t supposed to be.”
My voice gets rougher as I go. “We live in Austin because I wanted it. Even though I was barely home. Maria wanted to move to Killeen, open her clinic there. But I said no, my parents and sister were here. I wanted four kids, so we had four. And then I wasn’t even there to raise them.”
Maria’s hand shifts slightly on her lap, but she doesn’t interrupt.
I keep going, words tumbling out faster now.
“We opened our marriage because I was jealous of my high school friend—Connor. Who, by the way is in the middle of a pretty brutal divorce now. I had a year-long friends-with-benefits because I didn’t want to be the cuckolded husband.
And Bethany—Jesus. I stayed friends with a woman who hurt my wife, who hurt my family, because I wanted it.
Because I decided it was fine, and everyone else just had to deal with it. ”
I let out a shaky breath, my throat tight. “Every single time… I thought I was doing what was best for us. But really? I was just doing what I wanted.”
Dr. Nina lets the silence hang for a beat, then looks at Maria. “Maria — do you have an opinion about what Lyle just said?”
Maria breathes in slowly, then out. “Yeah.” She folds her hands in her lap.
“We have four kids because I wanted four kids. I was the one who decided against moving to Killeen because I realised, I liked having a trusted babysitter.” She shrugs, a small, rueful movement.
“The rest of it bothered me. Sometimes it still does. But I’m trying to live with it because it’s in the past.”
She nudges me with her shoulder and her voice softens. “You were selfish. But you stopped. You’re retiring. You let me handle Cece. You started listening to what I needed. That’s all I ever asked for — for you to listen, to care. You do that now. I see it and I love you for it.”
Dr. Nina speaks, her tone warm but measured. “This isn’t a quick fix. What you’ve built here—the honesty, the patience—that takes time. But you are on the right path. Sharing your struggles, leaning on each other instead of pulling away—that’s how trust is rebuilt. And that’s how it stays strong.”
Maria nods softly beside me, but my thoughts drift.
The Army therapist I used to see wasn’t like this. He was efficient, sure—but in more of a tough-honesty kind of way. I suppose that’s why I’ve been so reluctant to go back. A fact I think Dr. Nina is aware of.
She turns to me. “The armed forces—they have my immense respect for the work they do, the hardships they endure.” She glances at Maria. “And for the families who suffer in silence alongside them.” Then her eyes come back to me. “No matter how strong you are, everyone needs a little help.”
That part is meant for me.
I nod slowly. “I know. I’ve just been… busy with life.”
Dr. Nina studies me for a moment, then leans forward slightly. “That’s your choice, Lyle. But you need to find an outlet for your emotions before they start affecting your life. You may feel ready to leave the Army, but once the salutes stop, you might start regretting or resenting your decision.”
Her words hit like a stone in my gut. She isn’t wrong. The Army has been my backbone for two decades. I don’t even know who I am without it.
I nod, jaw tight. “I’ll try.”
She holds my gaze like she’s testing whether I mean it. Then she gives a small, satisfied nod and scribbles something in her notebook.
Maria shifts beside me, her thigh brushing mine, and when I glance over, she’s watching me with that soft, steady look that always cuts through the noise.
I might regret leaving the Army.
But I’ll never regret choosing her.