The Secrets Between Us (Billionaire CEO Romance)

by Katie Mettner

  I glanced over at the deck where a clicking sound could be heard coming up the steps. My sweet puppy sat next to me, his eyes searching mine. “Hey, Beast,” I cooed in that sing-song puppy voice they love. “I’m sorry, bud, but he's gone. I promise to take you out on the lake and throw your ball. You probably don't want me to do it though, do you boy?” I asked him. “I guess Hayes understands you better than I do.”

  I absently rubbed his head with Justice, his fur warm and soft against my skin. I sat out on the cold deck, pretending my life was the same as it was a week ago. I stared at Justice, half chewed up and ugly as hell, but for the first time, I saw it in a new light. Maybe Hayes was right. Maybe it was time to find a new name for it.

  I stared out over the frozen desolation that was my life and listened for a sound, any sound, to tell me I wasn't alone. My chin trembled with pent up emotion, but a sense of calm settled over me the longer I gazed at the snow-covered lake. In the stillness, everything was alive. The birds flew silently through the air, swooping and arcing in a dance of wintertime joy. Rabbits hopped from place to place, their movements hushed by the soft snow they used to hide themselves in. The deer moved in pairs across the water with puffs of white warm air coming from their noses every few steps.

  It was clear to me I wasn't alone. Out there somewhere was a savior. Whether that savior was a baby in a manger or a grown man with ice blue eyes, I couldn't say at the moment. In fact, my savior could be neither, but there was one. I could feel it.

  What does justice mean? that voice unlike my mother’s asked. I surged upright and dug out my phone. Opening Chrome, I read the definitions of justice. The very first one said, the quality of being just. To uphold a righteous cause.

  I held Justice up again, turning it left and right to inspect all its imperfections and scars. Hayes was right, in a way. I needed a change, but I didn’t need a new name for it. I needed a new definition. Justice would remain firmly in place, but now it symbolized the right of all women to protect themselves from someone out to do them harm.

  I leaned back in the deck chair and wrapped Justice around Beast’s neck, resting my head on his furry one. “We’ll get through this Beast,” I whispered and his wet nose snuffled my wet cheek in a pledge of solidarity.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HAYES

  The sun had set hours ago and the stars were twinkling in the night sky, but they weren’t as bright in the city as they were in Cashmere Camp. Their luster was gone and so was mine. I leaned against the rail of the deck with tension in my arms, tension in my body, and weariness in my soul. The day had been long and there wasn’t a minute of it that I hadn’t thought of Mercy.

  I closed my eyes and let the day wash over me. Earlier this morning, when I drove past my house, the tabloids were camped out in my driveway. Caleb had done his job. They had scurried back to the city like little beady-eyed rats, but they had no idea what was to come. I didn’t feel bad about deceiving them. At least if they were camped out at my house, they weren’t bothering Mercy.

  I fell into bed exhausted at six a.m. and woke at ten to my mother singing Christmas carols while she cooked, her voice traveling through the house like an angel’s. I was back in my childhood home with all the memories to comfort me. She babied me, fed me, and shored me up for what was to come. My sister, God love her, was by my side for the interview with WJJC. She refused to let me do it alone since it was as much her story as mine. She believed she was as much to blame for his insanity as I was to blame for his death, even though I assured her that wasn’t true. She thought it would help put this to bed for good if she was there, and I was never prouder of her than I was today. She sat next to me with her head held high and told the story of mental instability, jealousy, and mental abuse of women. The story ended up being less about me and what I did, and more about women everywhere who suffered under the hands and words of a man. Women like Mercy. It always came back to Mercy.

  I hung my head, the carols of Christmas still ringing in my ears from the church service we’d attended an hour ago. It was a silent night from where I stood, at least in the neighborhood. I couldn’t say my head was silent. I also couldn’t say my heart was silent, not by a long shot. They were both screaming at me in a thousand different ways. They were telling me things I couldn’t sort out or begin to understand except for the coward part. I understood that to the very depths of my soul. Oh, and the part where my head told me I was a spoiled, lying man child who had no intention of ever letting anyone into my heart in a way that would matter.

  My heart stuttered at the thought. It told my head it was wrong on that one. I already let someone in. I had already given my heart away, willingly or not, and now both Mercy and I would pay for that forever. I would never go back to Cashmere Camp for the sole reason that Mercy deserved a strong man to love her, not a man child who was there to fuck her and walk away. Hard as that was to admit to myself, I was the man child. She thought she wasn’t good enough for me, but the fact remained, I wasn’t anywhere near good enough for her.

  “You okay, man?” Caleb asked, his hand coming down on my back in a brotherly pat.

  I swiped away the moisture at the corner of my eye and sucked in a breath of cool air. “Sure, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  He copied my posture and stared down at the Christmas tree grove my parents had planted when they first moved here. The trees were all different heights now, but they were a constant in our lives I always found joy in. Except this year. There was nothing but pain this year.

  “It was a rough day, Hayes,” he said, handing me a glass of eggnog that I suspected was filled to the brim with brandy. “It’s okay not to be okay, you know. If the interview wasn’t bad enough it was followed by the first Christmas Eve without Dad. No one is feeling jolly.”

  “You’re okay, though,” I said, my voice sarcastic. “Rather jolly, actually.”

  He shook his head, his eyes never meeting mine. “I’m just a good actor. I’m pretending to be strong for mom, Sarah, and the kids, but tomorrow, when I see Ange again, I’m going to sob in her arms. I have no doubt.”

  I spun on him, grabbing his shoulder. “Ange? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He looked to the sky as if begging the Savior for strength. “Language, Hayes. Geez. It’s like you’re a teenager again all filled with aggression and angst.”

  “Shut up and talk. You said you were mobile last night. Where were you?”

  “I was in Minneapolis,” he answered, straightening his spine. “With Ange.”

  I waved my hand. “What the fu—” I cleared my throat. “What are you talking about, Caleb?”

  “Apparently, you left your brain back in Cashmere Sweater,” he answered, rolling his eyes.

  “Camp. It was Cashmere Camp and I’m losing patience.”

  “Geez, you’re a little intense. Dial it back a bit, would you? I’m dating Ange. Is that okay with you?” The question wasn’t meant to be answered. It was sarcastic and confrontational with a side of anger.

  I gripped the edge of the deck with both hands. “You decided to be passive aggressive and date my ex? Mature, Caleb.”

  He shook his head slowly but controlled, as though he was keeping himself from pounding me into a puddle. “No, I’m not passively aggressively dating your ex, Hayes. I’m in love with her. I’m sleeping with her. I’m wishing I was with her right now.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a box, flipping open the lid to reveal a beautiful princess cut diamond. “I’m praying she’ll say yes to becoming a Rutherford. Maybe not thee Rutherford, but a Rutherford none the less.”

  "Wait, you're going to marry my assistant?" I asked, completely stunned and taken aback.

  His lips thinned and he tucked the box back in his pocket. "No, I'm going to ask Angie Bloom to marry me. To be my wife. To be my life partner. To be the woman who blesses me with children. She's so much more than your assistant, Hayes. God, you are such an asshole."

  "Language, Caleb. It's unb
ecoming,” I parroted. My brain had just exploded and I couldn’t make it form all the right questions in all the right ways. “How long?"

  "Until I ask her?"

  "Have you been seeing her,” I clarified.

  "A year," he answered, his tone reticent. "Well, a year on New Year's Eve, which is when I plan to ask her to marry me, so please don’t ruin it. I asked her father yesterday. He said he'd be honored to have me as a son-in-law."

  I bent over slightly at the waist like someone had just delivered a one-two punch. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  He shrugged one unsure shoulder. "Fear."

  "Of?"

  "You," he admitted quietly.

  I tossed an arm up in the air. "Caleb, I went out with her for a month, that was it. We both could see it was never going to work out for us. We didn’t even sleep together," I pointed out, my face burning brightly. I was glad it was dark because he would think it was out of embarrassment that I couldn't get the job done. That wasn’t it at all. It was the thought of the night I’d spent buried in Mercy that had my face burning and my chest hurting.

  He shook his head, staring at the cedar deck under our feet. “It has nothing to do with the fact that you used to date her. We didn’t tell you because we just wanted to be happy together. We didn’t want outside forces telling us we wouldn’t work, or that one of us had a family too big for their britches to accept Ange as one of their own.”

  The expression on his face broke my heart and buoyed it at the same time. "Caleb, I'm sorry.” My hand went into my hair in a motion of shame and anger with myself. “I’m so very sorry you and Ange felt that way. God, are you kidding me?” I asked, just to be sure, and he shook his head slightly, still staring at the deck. I grabbed his shoulder until he made eye contact with me again. “Let me say right now, you’re thee Rutherford, not me. You’re thee Rutherford in my book. Ange is a beautiful person, inside and out, and she needs someone like you. She deserves someone who will treat her like she’s the most precious thing on earth to him.”

  He nodded once. “She is. I love her, even more than I love myself. If I had to die so she could live, I would in a heartbeat.”

  “Which is exactly what I mean, brother. You’re selfless and have this ability to love in a way I never learned. Maybe I’m a total and complete fuck-up when it comes to love, but I always knew you’d be the same kind of family man Dad and Grandpa were. I’m happy for you and Ange, I truly am,” I promised, holding his gaze. “I wish she was here so I could tell her the same thing.”

  “She’s coming home tomorrow, but when I found out you were going to be home, we decided it was best if she didn’t come over here for dinner.”

  I stumbled back against the railing, the rock-solid wood not giving an inch against my frame. “Jesus, Caleb. You really do think I’m an asshole.” I squatted to pull air into my lungs, but my chest squeezed against the motion tightly.

  He knelt next to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “No, I don’t actually think you’re an asshole, Hayes. I think you’re confused, lonely, exhausted, scared, lost, and grieving. You went away for some peace and solitude, but instead encountered someone who worked her way through your defenses in a way you don’t know how to deal with. Now you’re fighting to get air into your lungs every second of the day because you can’t stand to be away from her, but you don’t know what to do about it.”

  I nodded my head, my gaze fixed on a knot in the wood of the decking. “Not untrue, but Mercy and me,” I waved my hand at my neck. “Can’t happen.”

  “Because you’re Hayes Rutherford the Fourth who owns and runs a multibillion-dollar company, and she’s a high school drop-out with a GED who runs a wilderness camp? Or is it because she has the potential to turn your life upside down and make you feel things you never have before?”

  I snorted with sarcastic laughter. “Definitely not the former,” I said, shaking my head. “You can’t measure a person’s worth by their education.”

  “No shit,” he joked while laughing. “Look at you. You’ve got more schooling than I can shake a stick at and you’re still dumber than a rock.”

  I shoved him in the shoulder, knocking him to the side and onto his butt. He sat there laughing until I joined him. We continued to laugh, filling the dark sky with the sound of jolly until we couldn’t breathe.

  “I needed that,” I admitted, swallowing a slug of eggnog. “today was …” I just made the head explosion motion.

  “Agreed,” he said, leaning his back on the deck railing and finishing his eggnog. “Maybe we can make tomorrow a better day?”

  “That’s not going to happen, but at least now you can bring the woman you love to dinner instead of leaving her out in the cold.” He opened his mouth to speak and I held up my hand. “Which would have been my fault. Want me to call and apologize?”

  “You’d do that?” he asked, one brow raised. “That’s not exactly something the Hayes I know would do.”

  I rubbed my forehead, my elbow braced on my knee. “I’m happy to report that Hayes disappeared last week. He’s gone. I can’t find him. It’s scaring the living shit out of me at the moment and I don’t know what to do with all of this,” I motioned at my chest with my hands. “It’s uncomfortable.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed long and hard. “Those are called feelings, Hayes. I know, a foreign experience for you, but they won’t kill you, I promise.”

  I eyed him, one brow in the air. “Are you sure? Because they’re incredibly painful.”

  He patted my back and stood up. “I’m positive. The truth is, eventually you’ll get to the point where they aren’t painful. You’ll see that sometimes feelings are a good thing and you’ll start to enjoy them.”

  “Doubtful,” I said, half-laughing.

  He kicked my shoe and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I have no doubt. I know what happened with Martin knocked every good and pure feeling right out of you. It wasn’t unexpected, but you’ve held onto those feelings of bitterness and hatred too long. Maybe after clearing the air today, you’ll slowly start to let the good feelings back in. Merry Christmas, Hayes,” he wished softly, disappearing back inside to leave me to ponder his words.

  He was right, which made me wonder which one of us was really the big brother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MERCY

  “Merry Christmas, Beast,” I sang, my voice lackluster in the quiet of the room.

  I buttered a muffin and carried it into the living room, a room I’d avoided for the better part of yesterday other than to stoke the fire. I didn’t turn on the Christmas tree lights or watch any Christmas movies on Netflix. I’d spent the day working in an attempt to distract myself from the guy I wanted to spend the holiday with more than anything. The guy who right now was waking up on Christmas morning to a houseful of people to share the day with. Sure, it would be bittersweet, but they would be together.

  I lowered the muffin to the table and took a slug of the Jack Daniels I’d brought in earlier, happy to spend the holiday drunk and sleeping. Tomorrow the work would start again, and I would be too busy plowing snow and nursing a hangover to care about what a sexy, brooding, bearded Hayes Rutherford was doing.

  I sat, folded my leg under me, and took a bite of the muffin. I alternated it with a swig of the Jack then leaned my head back on the couch and rocked it. “It’s only been a day, Mercy. How are you going to survive without him forever? You can’t become a raging alcoholic.”

  My gaze traveled to the tree and I decided in spite of him, I wanted to enjoy its beauty for the day. I stood and plugged the string of lights in, rewarded with the glowing joy of the season. I stepped back, remembering how proud he was to hang the ornaments he’d found in the shed. I walked around the tree, my finger trailing over the tinfoil star he’d stuck right in the middle. I laughed at the memory of how he said it was the second brightest star in the room and then insisted I was the brightest. He was a smooth talker if nothing else. I walked around the
tree, inspecting the ornaments and straightening them as I went. There were birds, angels, red and silver balls, and even a mini-nativity set. My fingers trailed over each of them slowly and I tried to memorize the placement, and the memory of him decorating the tree for one reason … me. The memory of him chopping down a tree with a hatchet and tying it down to the sled, so proud to bring it home and DYI the shit out of it, filled my head.

  I laughed aloud. He certainly did that, without question. An ornament I had never seen before hung in the back and I lifted it off to read it. It was a metal heart and it read, Our First Christmas.

  “Our First Christmas?” I asked, flipping it over several times, unsure if it was something from the bins. The shine of the metal told me it was new. He’d bought it and put it there, making sure I’d find it after he was gone. “But it’s not our first Christmas,” I whispered, hiding it back in the branches. “Because you’re not here.”

  It was then I noticed a box on top of the bucket. I knelt and pulled it out, along with an envelope. Mercy was scrawled across the front in his handwriting. I sat, holding it in my lap for the longest time. The box had been professionally gift-wrapped and was utterly perfect. So perfect I didn’t want to open it and disturb the gold bow tied in holiday shimmer.

  I set it to the side and took a deep breath before I flipped open the envelope, and pulled out a piece of paper. My eyes skimmed the flowing cursive on the page, and my heart contracted.

  My Dearest Mercy,

  Where do I even begin? To start, please accept my apology for leaving in the dark of night. You were sleeping so peacefully and wearing nothing but a smile. I wanted that to be the image of you I was left with, for now. Happy, sated, and a different Mercy than the one I met a week ago. Don't worry, I'm a different Hayes than the one who showed up on your doorstep with a chip on his shoulder, too. It's to that end I have to leave you now, my beautiful Mercy.