The Secrets We Held

by Blair, E. K.

  “Exactly that. There’s no way my father would be cool with us sharing a hotel room,” I tell him as I watch frustration brimming in his eyes.

  “But it was fine when you came to Chicago.”

  With a guilty grin, I admit, “I lied to him about that. I told him you were staying with your parents.”

  Caleb huffs in annoyance.

  “I’m sorry, but he’s super protective, and I don’t want to outright disrespect him.”

  “But you’ll outright disrespect me?”

  I shift to sit on my knees so that I’m facing him. “That’s not it at all.”

  “I gave up spending Thanksgiving with my family to be here with you, and now you’re making me go back to the hotel by myself? You’re being selfish.”

  “I’m not being selfish,” I defend, trying to keep my voice down.

  When he gets off the bed, I already know he’s getting himself riled up, and I go into a silent panic, praying he doesn’t raise his voice or do anything that would draw attention to us.

  He paces a few steps away, and I walk over to him. “If I had it my way, I would go with you, trust me. But he’s my father, and I respect him.”

  In an instant, he snaps.

  He grabs my upper arms and seethes, “So I’m just shit to you? My feelings don’t matter?”

  “Of course they matter,” I say as I try to twist out of his hold, but he doesn’t relent. I hiss as his fingers dig into the muscle, sending a stabbing pain down my arms and into my palms. “Let go,” I quietly beg, worried he’s going to put more bruises on me.

  “I do so much for you, and I don’t even know why because all you do is think about yourself.”

  When the black in his eyes widen, my fear catapults. Only, instead of begging and sobbing, I get angry. “Let go.”

  He squeezes tighter, forcing my knees to give.

  “My father is downstairs.” I fume under my breath. “Let go. Now.”

  With that, he does. When his hands drop away, I take a few steps back as my arms throb in succession with my pulse.

  I stare at him, wondering what he’s going to do next. He stands for a moment before opening his mouth and telling me, “I fucking hate that you’re constantly testing my love for you. It’s like you get off on pissing me off.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Then tell me what is true.”

  I could snap and be defiant the way my bones are aching to do—it’s what I should do. Yet, it would only set him off again.

  So, for the moment, I let go of my own feelings of anger toward him to see past the hostility in his eyes, straight through to the man I know he wants to be, the man who’s strong enough to temper his emotions and not let them take control over him.

  I stride over to him, cup my hands along his scruffy jaw, and kiss him. I don’t even care that he won’t kiss me back, I keep my lips locked to his while tears well in my eyes.

  When I draw back and look up into his eyes, I see how badly he craves to simply be loved.

  “You’re my world,” I give him. “And it breaks my heart when you question my love for you because it’s boundless. I wish you could see that. I wish you could crawl inside my heart and feel what I feel because you would never have to question me again. My staying here to keep my parents happy has nothing to do with how much I love you. It has everything to do with how much I want them to love you too.”

  As I say this, he softens, relaxing his tense muscles. Remorse glosses over his eyes before his head drops to mine with a lamenting, “I’m so sorry.”

  I sling my arms around his neck and hold him tightly, hating that I bring out these painful emotions in him, but more than anything I’m happy. Happy that we didn’t fall into another situation we would both wind up regretting. It’s a victory in my book, and it gives me hope that we have the ability to move past the dysfunctional toxicity we’ve been fighting to overcome.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I assure.

  KATE

  “So, what was it like getting both families together for Thanksgiving?” I ask Ady.

  It’s been six months since I was at her place, and when she invited me over, I was reluctant. The promise I made to stay away from Trent was one I didn’t want to break. But Ady assured me he was out with buddies, so I came.

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal because my mom already knows Micah’s parents, but it was fun getting everyone together.”

  “Seems serious.”

  She shakes off my comment, saying, “It only seems that way because we’ve been close friends for so long. Like I said before, Micah and I are taking things slow.”

  I smirk. “But you’re in his bed every night, right?”

  She grabs a pillow and flings it at my head.

  “You’re such a pervert.”

  “Whatever,” I say with a shrug.

  “How did it go with Caleb meeting your family? Did your dad embarrass you?”

  “I felt like it went well, and no, my dad seemed to like him, so it all worked out.”

  “And what about you? How are the two of you doing?”

  “Amazing. Seriously, Ady, he’s everything I could ever want in a boyfriend.”

  I ignore the crooked look she’s giving me. It’s old news that she, along with others, doesn’t particularly like Caleb.

  When she sees I’m not going to respond to her look, she moves past it. “So, what are your plans for Christmas?”

  “I don’t really know. We talked about me going with him to Chicago, but I know my parents would be upset if I didn’t go home and spend the holiday with them. I’m just trying to figure out the best plan.”

  The front door slams, catching my attention, and when I hear Trent’s hostile voice, I clam up. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it isn’t kind.

  “I thought you said he wasn’t going to be here.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be,” she responds as if it’s no big deal. “I still don’t understand why you can’t be friends with him.”

  “You make it sound like it isn’t my choice.”

  “Is it?” she questions suspiciously.

  “Yes,” I stress. “From the very start, he’s disrespected my relationship with Caleb.”

  Her brow quirks slightly, a reaction I doubt she’s aware of but one that exposes her doubt. “It’s just sad. We all used to have so much fun together.”

  “Yeah, we did,” I agree.

  “What about the New Year’s Eve party Brody has been talking about throwing?”

  “Don’t give me a hard time about parties when you haven’t gone to a single one since I’ve met you.”

  She laughs because she knows it true.

  “Trent told me how much you all would party in high school, so I don’t get what your hang up is.”

  “Nothing. I guess I’m just not into it anymore.”

  “Lame,” I tease at the same time my phone chimes with a text.

  Caleb: Getting out of class in 20 minutes. Want to meet me on campus during my break?

  Me: Yeah. I’ll text when I get there. I’ll meet you on the steps at the lake by the student center.

  Caleb: See you then.

  Tucking my phone away, I tell Ady, “I need to get going.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say as I stand. “Caleb is about to get out of class and he wants to hang out before his next one starts.”

  “Okay.” Ady hops off the bed and gives me a hug. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “We’ll get together again soon. I promise.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she jokes, waving her hand dismissively.

  “See ya.”

  When I head out of her room, I stop and wonder if Trent’s door is open. I can’t tell, and I can’t see into the living room to see if he’s in there. I really don’t want to run into him and have to explain why I’ve cut him completely out of my life. The last time we spoke was through those text messa
ges the night of the gala almost three months ago. I didn’t bother contacting him after that to tell him that I wouldn’t be talking to him any longer. Honestly, I don’t want to have that conversation at all, so I simply avoid it altogether.

  But now, as I walk past his room, I see him sitting on the edge of his bed with his cell phone dangling from his fingers. His head is down, and he looks in my direction as I pass, our eyes meeting for a mere split second. When I hit the living room, something unexplainable stops me from opening the front door and leaving. Instead, I hesitate. Standing in the middle of the room, I contemplate whether I should follow what my head is telling me to do or if I should listen to my heart.

  Finally, I turn on my heel and walk back to his room because I can’t ignore the tug he has on me—the same tug he’s always had. Nervous, since I’ve put so much distance between us, I knock softly on his open door, and when he looks up, he’s expressionless.

  Silence spans between us until I give a timid, “Hey.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I take a step inside the room. “I came to see Ady.”

  He nods and tosses his phone onto his nightstand. “You should probably go before Caleb finds out you were talking to me.”

  A tiny part of me is ashamed that he’s calling me out on it—no, I feel this way because I did it. I should at least be able to own that choice enough to admit it to myself.

  “I’m sorry I bailed, I—”

  “You didn’t bail, you fucking vanished. But whatever, you know.”

  “Don’t do that,” I say, taking a seat next to him.

  His eyes stay downcast as we sit with no words spoken. His hair has gotten longer since the last time I saw him. I want to give him a hard time, make a joke, but every word that comes to me feels wrong.

  After a while, without lifting his head to look at me, he says, “I’m worried about you.”

  “Look at me.” It takes a second, but eventually, he meets my eyes. “I need you to trust me when I tell you that you have it all wrong. There is no reason for you to worry about me at all. I’m not sure how Caleb has gotten a bad rap with you, but he’s a good man; He loves me.”

  “It doesn’t erase what I saw that day at the beach.”

  I want to deny that he saw anything, but I let it go because the last thing I want to do is get into another argument with him over nonsense. Instead, I give myself a moment, and when he looks at me again, I say the first thing I feel.

  “I miss you.”

  Before he can say anything, his phone starts ringing. He picks it up, reads the name of the person who’s calling, and drops the phone back down.

  He appears aggravated, so I ask, “Who was that?”

  “No one.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Can we just talk without all this animosity or whatever this is between us?”

  “Sorry, I’m just having a shitty day.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Nothing to really talk about,” he responds, closing down, but I don’t want him to push me away.

  “Is everything okay with your mom back home?”

  As soon as I ask, he breathes heavily, kicking his legs onto the bed and reclining against his pillows.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I respond. “So, what’s going on?”

  “Same shit as always.”

  In the past, trying to get Trent to open up has been like pulling teeth, and even though I know I should leave and get over to campus, I can’t bring myself to go just yet because I care about him.

  “Are you just going to leave me guessing?” I half tease, but he doesn’t crack a smile, which is way out of character. Whatever is weighing on him clearly has him in a mood.

  “She’s seeing someone else,” he eventually reveals. “Her divorce hasn’t even been finalized, and she already has the next guy lined up.”

  “How did you find this out?”

  “She told me. She’s always telling me shit I don’t need to know or be involved in.”

  He stares at the ceiling before reaching over and grabbing his pen. After clicking a few times to turn it on, he takes a long hit and then holds it out for me. Having not done any pot for so long, I give in and welcome the calmness it brings when I take a pull and suck it down deep into my lungs. It’s just enough to take the edge off, so I hand it back to him and watch as he takes a second hit.

  “Does she always do this?”

  He gives a humorless laugh. “She’s working on husband number six, so what do you think?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The woman can’t be alone. I love her, but I’m getting to the point where I’m sick of being her fucking therapist all the time.”

  “Have you talked to her about how you feel?”

  Again, another pissed off laugh sounds from under his breath. “If it weren’t for me, she’d have no one looking out for her.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “She doesn’t talk to him like she does with me. I swear, I feel more like her friend than her son,” he admits, exposing a layer that can’t be easy for him. “I’ve always been the one protecting and watching out for her when it should’ve been the other way around.” Tilting his chin up, he focuses his attention back up to the ceiling to avoid eye contact when he reveals, “I remember when I was a little kid, maybe in the second grade or somewhere around then, sitting in bed with her while she cried into her pillow after another dude walked out on her.”

  A tiny piece of my heart chips away, inflicting a sharp pang of sadness through me. He sits back up and swings his legs off the edge of the bed so he’s sitting next to me again.

  “I hate to say it because it makes me sound like a shitty person, but I’m tired of looking out for her. But, fuck, she’s my mom.”

  “You don’t sound shitty at all,” I tell him, thinking twice before resting my hand on his leg that’s touching mine. “Maybe you should talk to her about this though.”

  “I’m done talking about it altogether.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this is the first time you’ve talked about it at all?”

  “One time too many.”

  “Why are you so quick to shut down?”

  He turns and looks at me with a cocked brow. “Why do you care?”

  “Because you’re my friend?”

  “Yeah? You treat all your friends like this?” he throws at me. “How many months has it been since I last saw you?”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Not that I give a shit. I mean . . . you do you, but don’t come around and pretend like you care.”

  I want to tell him that he’s to blame too. He’s the one who kept on bashing Caleb after I told him to stop, but he didn’t care enough about my feelings to do so—he just kept on. There are so many crappy comments he’s made that I can point to as examples of how shitty of a friend he’s been to me. I could throw all of that back at him and storm out of here, but I don’t because I’m growing tired of us slinging insults at each other.

  “I do care, Trent.” I tug on his shoulder to get him to face me. “Hey,” I say, needing him to hear me. “I really do care about you.”

  He takes another hit off his pen, and I can tell he’s already stoned, so I give up.

  “I should get going.”

  I stand and start walking out of his room before he stops me with, “Wait.”

  When I turn around, he gets off the bed and walks straight toward me, not stopping until he has me in his arms. I wish I knew all the thoughts in his head as I hug him back. I’ve never seen Trent act this way before, so I keep my arms banded around him, giving him the touch, the comfort, whatever it is he needs. And, in a way I’m not brave enough to admit, I need it too. I know I should be racing across town to get to Caleb, but I stay with my head pressed against Trent’s chest as we hold on to each other.

  “I miss you too,” he eventually says.

  KATE

  A storm is brewing offshore. B
lankets of dark gray hang above the water and slowly blow toward land. The shift in air pressure has really intensified the waves, so I grabbed my board and headed out here to clear my mind and get a little space. Space from everything and everyone—including myself.

  Another semester is about to come to an end, Christmas is just around the corner, and it feels as if the walls are closing in on me. It’s an indefinable cloud I’m walking through with so much confliction.

  I saw Ady and Trent two weeks ago, and ever since, I’ve had a pit in my stomach. Somehow, I’ve managed to push everyone out of my life. Love has swept me away into an alternate world that revolves solely around Caleb. The man gives me so much that I want, but I’m starting to understand that it isn’t without cost.

  Bobbing over waves out here in the ocean on my board, I’m all alone.

  I’m always alone, and it’s starting to affect me in ways I keep hidden.

  When I see a perfect swell heading in, I flip onto my stomach and begin to paddle. The rush of water propels me, and I pop up, dragging my fingertips along the lip of the break as it carries me for a decent ride. The wind whips through my hair as droplets of water spray against my skin, and I’m free. All my senses focus on this moment—the salt perfuming the air, the cold water pelting my flesh, the cool breeze rushing from all around.

  Reaching the closeout, I hear a faraway, “Fuck yeah!” right before I kick out and sink down into the water. As I hang on to my board and float, I turn toward the shore and see Trent zipping up his wetsuit.

  “What are you doing here?” I shout as he grabs his board and jogs out into the water.

  While he paddles to where I am, I pull myself up and sit on my board. I came out to be alone, but I can’t help being glad that he’s here. I miss my friend I used to spend so much time with.

  As he approaches, he raises his chest and sits up.

  “What are you doing here?” I repeat now that he can hear me.

  “Same thing you are. Surf report said there would be better than decent swells with the storm coming in. Didn’t want to miss out,” he tells me. “You here by yourself?”

  “Yeah, Caleb is in class, and I was bored sitting at the condo.”