Please Don't Lie (Crystal River, #1)

by Christina Baker Kline

“Oh—it’s just a mantra. Meaning . . . if you turn toward something you’re afraid of, you strip away its power.”

What you gain from life is shaped by your willingness to embrace what lies ahead.

Maybe she wasn’t too vulnerable to know what she wanted. Maybe she was finally vulnerable enough to let true love in.

Emily doesn’t seem to understand that when you’ve experienced as much turmoil as Hayley has, you seek peace. You crave solace. Even if you have to move to the top of a mountain to find it.

It’s funny, she thinks as her breathing slows back to normal, how quickly her view can shift. With just a small twist of perspective, anticipation can turn to dread.

Her notion of safety was pierced, her sense of peace disrupted. Tranquility—even on a beautiful day like today—is elusive. No matter how she tries to feel safe, she knows security is an illusion. A threat can come from anywhere, anytime.

One of her dog-eared self-help books, The Healing Journey: A Path to Wholeness, suggests creating a connection in your mind between a current object in your life and a significant object from your childhood. For Hayley, the object from her past is the ring her father wore, a distinctive gold-and-black band with beveled edges. She remembers sitting on his knee, playing with his ring while he took another of his endless work calls. He might’ve been ignoring her, but she felt protected. Secure.

one level, Hayley knows edicts like this are a little formulaic. But it’s been working for her since the moment Brandon slipped the ring on her finger, so there’s that.

keep people away from my territory.” “Your ‘territory’?” “Everybody needs a place that’s theirs, Hayley. Somewhere they can be themselves without anyone interfering.”

Her need to smooth things over with Brandon, she knows, is a 38reflex born of deep-seated insecurity. She wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to shed that weight.

that loss changes a person. No matter how old you are when tragedy strikes, it can bring out the saddest, loneliest, most bitter parts of you, and it’s damn hard to tuck it all back in.

But grief reshaped her. It peeled away layers, leaving her exposed to new possibilities. The very qualities that might have pushed her away from Brandon before now draw her in, a testament to how profoundly loss has changed her perspective on others, on life.

Hayley likes the two images together, the candid wedding snapshot, relaxed and joyful, as opposed to the clipped formality of the childhood portrait. They remind her that as an adult, she has

the ability to choose joy. She can paint her canvas however she wishes.

“Exactly. He wants you to be happy. But unless you feel your grief, you’ll never be able to fully feel your joy. And that’s for you to figure out. Not Brandon.”

ghosts linger if you don’t face them. Brandon’s got a lot to answer for, even now.” Rising abruptly, she says, “Well, thanks for the doughnuts. I best be getting to my booth.” She pauses, then turns back with a sardonic smile. “I hope you’ll still enjoy your little slice of paradise up there, now that you know what really happened.”

The real danger was never fire or coyotes. It was her husband, lying beside her in bed every night.

Moving forward isn’t about leaving the past behind. It’s about threading the pain and strength, the doubt and wisdom, into the fabric of who she is becoming.

narcissistic psychopaths often keep mementos of their victims.

Sean’s praying mantis tattoo, he revealed, had no connection to composting or regeneration.

It represented predation—the mantid’s patience, its ability to blend in, to wait. Its largest prey, he said, is the hummingbird.

She isn’t just surviving anymore. She’s truly living.