Lie to Me Read Online Free PDF

again.
    Damian stuck the wallet back in his pocket and took bold steps toward the sofa.
    “Go away!” Miles shouted into the cushions.
    “I have to talk to you.” Damian sat down, a few feet away from him. He wasn’t sure what was going on in Miles head. “Miles, I—”
    “Drunk, drunk, drunk!” Miles sat up and leveled him a look to kill. “My dad was a drunk! You a drunk too?”
    Damian’s resolve deepened. He’d have to get through to his boy. “Listen—”
    “Will you hit me if I don’t listen?” Miles challenged. “Do you hit kids, you faker?”
    Shit, does the kid want to be hit? He’s baiting me. “I don’t hit kids.” Suddenly, he saw something flash in Miles’ eyes. Fear? “Miles, does anybody hit you?”
    Miles turned his head away. “People hit me all the time, and I hit them back.”
    Damian felt his stomach tightening. Sliding closer to him, he put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
    Miles tried shrugging him off, but Damian wouldn’t let him.
    “Tell me about it,” he said, in a calm voice, feeling anything but calm. “Any adults ever hit you?”
    Miles scowled at him and Damian flinched. He saw his own expression on the child’s face. “Grandpa Michael spanked me a few times.”
    His father. That figured. “Just a few times?”
    “Yep. Just twice, but hard. With a belt.” He clapped his hands together with a loud crack. “Didn’t hurt me that much—just my feelings got hurt a little.”
    Damian ached for him. “That will never happen again. Does Uncle Sam hit you?”
    “No,” Miles said, “but he makes me do push ups when I’m bad. I don’t like that.”
    “I wouldn’t either.” He would definitely need to talk with his father and Sam about their disciplinary methods. “I suppose Uncle Alex is nice to you.”
    The boy sniffed. “They’re all usually nice to me, but they change the subject when I ask about my daddy so I’m mad at them.” He crossed his arms. “I hate everyone.”
    Damian’s head reeled. He fought to say the right thing. “Nobody will discipline you by hitting you or making you do push ups again. And I’m here to answer questions about me.” He was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Anyone else hit you, Miles?”
    Miles eyes filled with water and he dropped his head. “Kids at school. They’re the ones who do it all the time, every day. Well, they try.” He jumped to his feet and struck a karate pose. “They can’t hurt me ’cuz I know martial arts.” He kicked his legs, Kung Fu style, and chopped his hands and Damian would have smiled, if he hadn’t felt so much alarm. “I learned this from watching Jackie Chan movies.” He kept jumping around and Damian was intrigued by his energy. Miles came to an abrupt halt. “Why are you pretending to be my daddy?”
    Damian shut his eyes, briefly. “Son, I am your daddy.”
    “I’m the son of a drunk! The son of a drunk!” He used a singsong voice as he danced around and the sheer enormity of his vigor tired Damian. “Kids call me names, like drunk’s son, and they say bad things about all the Ballantines and the paper mill. Why are you pretending to care ?”
    Damian had to shove his guilt aside or he’d be useless to his child. Quietly, he told him, “Miles, it’s true that I used to drink too much, but I stopped. And I’m sorry that the kids blame you for stuff that goes on at the mill.”
    “Right!”
    “And I care because I’m your father. No tricks. I am.” He gazed into the little boy’s eyes. One thing his own father had taught him; good eye contact shows honesty.
    Miles’ voice wavered. “You’re such a liar. My daddy got into a motorcycle accident and died.” He whirled away from him, mumbling several four-letter words. “Stop pretending to be my dad! My dad’s dead! Dead !” Miles turned to him, his face red with fury.
    Damian stared at him a moment, and then stood up and grabbed the boy’s shoulders. Dead? Miles tried to get away, but couldn’t.