Love and Law by K Webster

voice seems like it would be traitorous and give me away, so I keep quiet.
    “Maya, look at me,” he gently instructs. The concerned look in his eyes causes tears to fill my eyes, and I feel like a crazy person. “What’s wrong?”
    A tear slips out, and I try to smile. “I just really wanted to spend some time with you. But I get it. You have an important job to do. Don’t worry about me. I’m just a hormonal girl,” I laugh.
    He doesn’t laugh back and narrows his gaze at me. “Maya, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”
    I’m already shaking my head no again. “No, I want you.”
    Dipping down, he kisses my lips again. “How old are you?”
    It’s almost laughable that we’ve been so physically and emotionally connected but we know nothing about one another. I’ll do my best to give him what information I can. He deserves that much.
    “Twenty-six.”
    He smiles and rewards me with his age. “I’m twenty-eight. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
    I shake my head at him. “Nope. Just me. What about you?”
    “Just me and Grammy,” he replies sadly.
    “Where are your parents?”
    This time, tears fill his eyes and I feel sick to my stomach. “They were killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve.”
    “Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. My daddy was killed when I was a little girl.” His look is one of sympathy but also one of understanding. We have a mutual level of pain, and that instantly draws us closer together.
    Suddenly, he tenses from above me. “Wait—you said you ran away from your parents? But now you’re telling me your dad is dead?”
    I nearly choke from being caught in a lie but quickly recover. “Stepdad.”
    He exhales sharply in relief, but my heart is still pounding a hundred miles per hour. Thankfully, he continues on with his harmless questions.
    “What are your interests? What do you do for fun?”
    I smile at him. The guys at the station, Miguel included, always give me shit about what I’m about to tell him, but I don’t care. I love it.
    “I’m an active member of the National Genealogy Society. In college, I took some genealogy courses and became addicted to learning about my ancestors. My friends give me shit about it all the time. I’ve researched all of their family lines,” I giggle.
    He smiles broadly at me but then quickly drops it. “You went to college? Did you finish and get a degree?”
    Shit. I seem to tell him too much truth and he’s so damn perceptive.
    “Uh, yeah.”
    He glares at me, knowing that I’m avoiding the subject. “Which part?”
    “Both,” I sigh. He’ll ask the next question and I will have to lie on this part. There’s no way in hell I’m telling him what my degree really is in. Telling your drug-dealer lover that you’ve got a degree in law enforcement seems like a bad idea.
    “Might I ask in what? What is a smart, sexy girl like you doing on this side of town selling drugs for me? You could be doing anything other than this shit right now.” He seems angry, and my heart pounds anxiously in my chest.
    “Um, business. The economy is bad,” I lie. Expecting him to demand the truth, I brace myself for it. But what he does instead breaks my heart.
    “Fucking liar. Unbelievable,” he snaps and lifts up off of me. He begins quickly pulling on clothes while I scramble to my feet.
    “Ben, please. Just let that part of my past go. It isn’t worth knowing.” I try and grab his shoulder.
    He wrenches away from me and shakes his head. “More fucking lies. It isn’t that your past isn’t worth knowing. It’s that you want to hide it from me. I’ve only ever been honest with you since day one. My mantra is ‘DON’T LIE,’ yet you fucking do it anyway. I’m out,” he grumbles as he buttons his jeans and slides into his shoes.
    Standing there, naked, before him, I tearfully watch him grab his shirt and leave me alone. As much as I want to tell him, I just can’t. The outcome from the truth would have been worse. I