The Secrets We Held

by Blair, E. K.

  The Secrets We Held

  Copyright © 2020 E.K. Blair

  Editor: Ashley Williams, AW Editing

  Cover Designer: E.K. Blair

  Interior Designer: Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,) without the prior written permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Note From The Author

  Explore Other Titles from E.K. Blair

  Follow E.K. Blair

  Acknowledgments

  To Sally

  for always believing in me and my visions

  We are the voices for the voiceless, and we tell their stories. We—because I couldn’t do this without you.

  KATE

  “Hey, Piper,” I call out as I rummage through the huge mess of mail and junk that’s been piling up on the kitchen counter for God knows how long. “Have you seen my new leash. I just bought it, and I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “You getting kinky on me, Kate?” my best friend since high school says when she emerges from her room.

  She saunters into the kitchen with a smirk on her lips, and I laugh and shake my head. “It’s my new leg leash.”

  Her eyes widen at the same time her smile grows. “I always knew you had a hidden sick side.”

  “I’m serious.” In my search, I grow frustrated. “This place is a disaster, I’m surprised we can find anything.”

  “It’s not that messy.”

  A couple of magazines fall onto the floor as I continue to dig through the random piles that are spread all over the kitchen and living room. “Do you even read this shit?” I ask when I pick up a random cooking magazine. “You don’t even cook.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t aspire to”—she snatches it out of my hand—“one day.”

  “I’ve known you since my sophomore year of high school and not once have I seen you cook.”

  Perching a hand on her hip, she says, “It wasn’t my fault that my parents hired housekeepers and chefs to do the cooking. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn some day.”

  Growing up in West Palm Beach was a trip. On my side of the intracoastal, there’s a certain level of affluence, but when you cross the short bridge over to Palm Beach, you’re in a world of opulence. That was where Piper grew up.

  We are different in many ways, but alike as well. She was over the snooty sense of entitlement at the private school and begged her parents to transfer her into a public school out of Palm Beach, which was when our paths crossed.

  Aside from Piper, I don’t have a lot of girlfriends. My main hobby is surfing; it always has been, which is why most of my friends are guys. It’s easier that way—drama has a shorter life span with them than with girls who seem to feed on it like they need it for survival.

  “Found it!” I grab the plastic bag and pull out the new leash for my surfboard before shoving it into my backpack with my wetsuit, zipping it up, and slinging it over my shoulders.

  “Dinner tonight?” she asks.

  I give her a hurried, “Sounds good,” as I get my board and rush out of the condo we share.

  When we decided to come to the University of Miami, it was a no-brainer that we’d be roommates. Aside from her messiness, she’s an easy person to live with. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have a cleaning staff to pick up after her like she did back home.

  It’s unfortunate for me too.

  Miami traffic is a nightmare, and when I finally make it to the beach, the guys are already in the water.

  After I pull on my wetsuit, I wax down my board, attach my new leash, and paddle out.

  “Where you been? Waiting for your nails to dry?” Brody teases as I swim up to him.

  “Don’t even come at me with that.” I sidle next to his board and sit up. “It’s crowded out here today.”

  “Swells are amped,” he says. “Come on.”

  I spend the next hour or so catching waves that break perfectly. After a while, I grow frustrated with having to fight for each wave with the number of people out here and decide to swim in for a breather.

  After setting my board aside, I sit in the sand and take a gulp from my water bottle as I look out into the ocean. It’s the end of October, which means most of the tourists have been swapped for the local surfer crowd. Travelers flock to the shore in the summer, but the waves are the best during this time of the year.

  Brody catches a decent ride before he and a few other guys paddle toward the shore. When they hit the sand and start walking my way, I spot Micah and his long, bright blond hair. He’s out here often with Brody, but it’s the guy with shorter sandy blond hair who catches my eye.

  “You got one of those for me?” Brody asks when he flops down by my side, and I toss him an extra bottle of water.

  “What’s up, Kate?” Micah greets as he sets his board aside and takes a seat in the sand.

  I give an acknowledging nod but quickly turn my attention to his friend when he complains, “What’s up with the fucking newbs out here today?”

  He runs his hand through his wet hair, spiking it as he does and sending droplets of water off the ends to land on his broad shoulders.

  “Kate, this is my buddy, Trent,” Micah says, and I flick my eyes up to his friend’s, hoping nobody saw that they were just on his chest.

  “Hey.”

  I smile. “Hey,” I offer in return, feeling like a total dimwit. No one gives me a double glance, so I brush off the paranoid thought that, somehow, they can see the stupid butterflies that have me frazzled.

  “We need to get out here at sunbreak. I have to get in some decent practice before next weekend,” Micah says, and Brody agrees.

  “Eight days and counting,” Trent notes about the surf competition in Deerfield Beach.

  “Exactly. There’s not a lot of time left.”

  Brody crushes the bottle of water as he chugs the rest of it. “Let’s not waste it, man.”

  The two of them get up, grab their boards, and head back out, leaving Trent and me alone. That damn tingling in my belly annoys me, mostly because I’m not the type of girl who gets stupid with guys, and yet, here I am, stupidly gazing at him.

  “That yours?” He eyes my board.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s clean.” He then looks over
at me. “I almost mistook you for a bunny.”

  My jaw drops slightly, and he grins.

  “You offended?”

  “That you assumed me to be a bunny? Yeah. Majorly offended.”

  When he hears the annoyance in my tone, his grin breaks into a full smile and he laughs under his breath. I despise bunnies—the girls who flock to the sand in hopes of getting noticed. They’re trite and far from who I am. Or are they? Right now, I’m a little lost in his unique eyes, which are two different colors: hazel and blue. The blue isn’t very vibrant, though, which makes the difference not so noticeable.

  “How long have you been surfing?”

  I break my stare and glance away just in time to see Micah catch a killer wave. “Since I was old enough to ride a bike. My dad taught me.”

  “You from around here?”

  “West Palm Beach,” I tell him. “You?”

  “Tampa.”

  “That sucks.”

  He shoots me a side stare and then agrees. “No shit. It’s nice to finally have some decent waves.”

  I’ve never been to Tampa, but everyone knows the west coast of Florida blows for surfing. The water is hot and flat.

  “Are you at the University of Miami too?”

  He nods.

  “What are you studying?”

  He gives me a perplexed look, and I press, “Your major?”

  “People declare that shit this early?”

  I chuckle. “Um, yeah.”

  “Nah, man.” He shakes his head at the idea. “I try not to plan the future.”

  “Isn’t that the whole point of college?”

  “Maybe for people like you.”

  “You say that like you know me.”

  Sitting to my side with his arms resting on his bent knees, he wears a cocky smirk. “Are you some sort of an enigma?”

  I quirk a brow. “No.”

  “Then I pretty much know you.”

  In a snap, my gaze turns into a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You girls are all the same. You want to believe that you’re different, but you’re not.”

  “That’s fucking sexist.”

  “It’s the truth,” he defends. “Humans are simple creatures, but for some reason, women think it’s a bad thing to be simple, so they purposely complicate everything because, in a weird way, it makes them feel special.”

  “You must be quite the charmer.”

  He winks, and I hate that it comes across as sexy when it should irritate me. “You know it!”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Micah shouts from the water. “You look like you need a carrot.”

  “Eat dick!” Trent hollers back at the insinuation that he looks like a bunny sitting in the sand.

  Without another word, he grabs his board and jogs into the water. I’m unable to pull my eyes away from him as he lies on his board and digs his arms into the water. The fluttering returns, and I silently scold myself for staring like a schoolgirl. The beaches are crawling with charming and carefree guys just like him. I bet he also trolls the shore to pick up unsuspecting girls who are here on vacation. I’m sure he gets a kick out of being the summertime fling story they go home and tell their friends about.

  I roll my eyes, feeling a tad jealous as I do.

  What is wrong with me?

  KATE

  “Hey, thanks for letting me tag along.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” Brody responds as we make the drive to Deerfield Beach. He then reaches over and turns down the volume to the music. “So, any reason why you didn’t register? It isn’t like you aren’t good enough.”

  “I love surfing, but it’s really only a hobby. It’s the one part of my life that holds zero stress for me. The last thing I want to do is suck the fun out of it by turning it into a job.”

  “I get that. But, still, it’d be a killer job.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Surf professionally?”

  He exits the highway as we near the hotel. “Yeah. Micah and I were talking about it a couple of months back. Even if I never make it to the pro level, just to snag a sponsorship would be cool.”

  “I’d be down with taking a sponsorship. Being paid to wear someone’s clothes or use their gear . . . sign me up.”

  “Not going to happen unless you get your ass registered in some of these comps.”

  Comps aren’t my thing. I would never admit this to anyone, but the only reason I asked Brody to let me tag along is because Trent is going to be here.

  God, I am so lame. I’m an embarrassment to myself.

  I haven’t seen him since we met at the beach last week. And because our paths haven’t crossed on campus, I figured I could make them cross this weekend.

  “Shit, this place is packed,” Brody complains when he turns into the hotel parking lot.

  I’m not sure why he’s surprised. This competition is one of the largest qualifiers in Florida.

  When he manages to find a parking spot, he unfastens his seatbelt and asks, “Would you mind grabbing my boards while I check in? I don’t want to leave them out here, and I definitely don’t want to drag them around with me in the lobby.”

  “No worries. I’ll take my time. I need to call my dad anyway.”

  “Cool. I’ll catch you inside.”

  He combs back his long brown hair with his hand, slips on his baseball hat, and hops out of the car, tossing me his keys through the open window.

  I’m already on the phone when I respond with a simple, “Okay.”

  “Kate,” my father answers enthusiastically. “How’s the competition going?”

  “We just got here. Brody is checking in, but I wanted to call you before this weekend got too busy.”

  “It’s too bad you aren’t competing.”

  “Dad . . .”

  “You’d put the men’s division to shame,” he dotes before adding, “I remember the day I got you on the board.”

  I smile, and even though I can’t actually recall the first time he put me on a board, I know the story by heart.

  “You were a natural, giggling when you actually stood up and caught your first wave. Your mother was so excited, I could hear her cheering from the shore.”

  My father has always been one of my biggest cheerleaders, and there was a point in high school when I did want to take the sport to the next level, but that all changed a couple of years ago. It isn’t something my dad likes to talk about because deep down the accident really scared him.

  “You know, you could enter a competition just for fun. It doesn’t have to be anything serious.”

  “I’ll pass.” I try to brush off the conversation, but he doesn’t take the hint.

  “You have a gift.”

  “What’s Mom doing today?”

  “Always quick to dodge conversations.” He chuckles. “She’s out shopping with your sister for a dress for the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

  Audrina is a sophomore in high school, and the girl is boy crazy, like crazy, crazy.

  “Who did she ask?”

  “Some kid she can’t stop talking about. He plays lacrosse and is on student council.”

  “You’re going to give him hell, right?”

  “You know it!” He laughs.

  “Dad, I have to run. Tell everyone that I miss them.”

  “I will. You have fun this weekend.”

  We say our I love yous before I shove my cell into my pocket, hop out of the car, and unstrap the boards from the roof.

  After I meet back up with Brody and we dump everything off in the room we’re sharing, we pick up his heat pack and head down to the water.

  Another age division is already in progress, and we have a few hours to kill before Micah goes out.

  “I see the guys on the other side of the media tent.”

  We head over to where our friends are hanging out and discuss heat times. Eventually, Trent walks up with his arm around some blonde. There’s a coiling in my stomach when I see them toge
ther.

  “What’s up?” he says, clapping hands with each of the guys.

  “Who’s this?” Brody asks of the girl.

  “This is Ady.”

  Everyone introduces themselves to her before she takes a step away and they go back to talking about surfing. She appears uncomfortable. Even though I have no desire to talk to a bunny, I’m not a bitch.

  “So, you’re here with Trent?” I ask as I sidle up next to her.

  She gives a nod.

  “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widen and flick to mine. “No. I’m not his . . . we’re not . . .”

  My stomach uncoils in relief. “Sorry. I just assumed—”

  “We’re just friends, that’s all. We went to high school together.”

  “Oh.” I guess she isn’t a bunny. “Do you go to UM, too?”

  “I’m taking the semester off,” she says, darting her eyes to Trent a time or two, which makes me wonder if she’s crushing on him as badly as I am. Who could blame her? He’s hot.

  “Hey, what’re you doing?” Micah calls out as he jogs over to where Ady and I are standing before turning his attention to me. “Kate. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Yeah. So, when are you competing?”

  “Later today. Did you enter?”

  “No, I just came to watch.”

  “Sweet.” He then turns to Ady. “I’m going to run up to the room and lie low for a while before my heat.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she tells him.

  “You sure?”

  She gives him a nod, and I figure it’s Micah she’s seeing instead of Trent.

  “It was good meeting you, Kate,” she says.

  “You, too. I’ll catch you later.”

  I watch them walk back up the beach hand in hand, confused as to why both guys are affectionate with her. Then I’m confused as to why I even care.

  After a while, the group disperses and gets ready to hit the water. Since Trent and I are here as spectators, we find a spot to sit and watch. Despite the fact that I’m a super relaxed person, being with Trent when no one else is around makes me super uneasy, but I’m not about to show that, so I feign coolness.