The Truth Hurts

65 │little lies

Sitting anxiously on the couch in the living room, Morgan stares blankly forward as thoughts race through his mind. A football game plays from the television across from him but, even though the volume is blaring, he doesn't seem to process any of the words coming through the speakers.

The lock on the front door twists as Taylor opens it from the other side, their eyes locking as she steps through the doorway and into the living room. Without an exchange of words, they can tell that the other is upset. They both share the same hint of sorrow in their eyes. Already in his hand, he lifts the remote control and pushes the power button. The television quickly flickers to a pitch black screen, a stretched glare of their den reflecting off of it.

"You okay?" He asks, even though he knows that she is far from it. Judging by her disheveled appearance, he can already tell that her visit with Casey didn't end well.

She shakes her head as she shuts the door, glaring over at him with regret. "We fucked up, Morgan. With everything."

Not disagreeing, he turns to look back at the black screen as she walks over to stand next to the couch.

Rubbing at her eyes, Taylor sniffs her nose in an attempt to clear it. It's obvious she has been crying, probably throughout her entire walk home. "How did we let it get to this?"

"I don't know." He gazes over at her, seeing her fragile state. "Hey, you should really get some rest. You've only been out of the hospital for what, a day and a half?"

"I'm not tired."

"Okay..." By his tone it's obvious that he doesn't believe her the slightest bit. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something." He rises up from the couch, not allowing her to further punish herself. "Come on, it's lunch time."

Not possessing the strength to argue, Taylor follows him as he cuts through the small opening leading into the kitchen. She freezes the second she her foot lands on the linoleum floor, her eyes immediately focusing over to the basement door as she reminisces the night she was nearly killed. It suddenly crosses her mind how much more terrifying it must have been for Casey—not only was her life in danger but her sister's as well.

Casey has every reason to hate her.

"Hey."

Her eyes widen to the familiar voice and she turns away from the door, looking over to see Morgan standing in front of the open refrigerator.

Reaching inside of it, he shoots her a playful smile in an attempt to ease her mind. "You gonna help or what?"

Knowing that she loves to cook in her spare time, Taylor has a feeling that this is his method of distracting her. Not to mention, getting a free meal out of it. She approaches him, a smile spreading across her face as she doesn't mind.

Unsure of what to make, the two shuffle through the several shelves of frozen food in the freezer. It's been a while since they've cleaned out the fridge.

"You know, I'm proud of you." Morgan says surprisingly, not looking at her as he reaches in to find a slab of baby back ribs tucked in the far back on the bottom shelf. He sighs when he sees the expiration date.

She looks at him, not quite sure what he's referring to. "Why?"

He pulls the ribs out, setting them on the side of the counter closest to the trashcan, and turns back to scavenge through another shelf of frozen goods. He must find it easier to express himself when he feels occupied. "Because you went over there and told her how you felt. You admitted to the truth. I wish I could do that with someone."