That Secret Crush

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Oh God, that was too easy. You had this dreamy look on your face, and wiping it off was just hilarious.”

  “Real funny, now who was it?”

  “No one. I was only kidding.”

  “Don’t joke about giving oral to other people. As far as I’m concerned, my dick is the only one that’s touched your lips.”

  “Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

  I will.

  I really fucking will.

  “Come here.” I pull on her hand and drag her over to my side until she’s sitting on my lap and resting her head on my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head and squeeze her tight, not wanting to let go, not wanting to have to drop her off at her apartment.

  “What would your ideal date with me be?”

  She nuzzles in even closer. “Well, besides giving out blow jobs at the Point?”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. “Besides that.”

  “An ideal date with Reid Knightly, hmm . . .” She thinks about it for a few moments, then: “Fishing.”

  “Fishing?” I ask, surprised. I was thinking more along the lines of taking her up to Bar Harbor or somewhere just as romantic, but fishing?

  “Yes, fishing. We would go out on your boat looking for the best lobsters or crabs or fish, and once we had the catch, we would take it back to your house and cook it together. You’d stand behind me and show me all your culinary expertise while casually dropping seductive kisses on my neck. Music would be playing in the background, those yummy candles would be lit, and there’d be wine available for whenever we wanted a sip. Maybe while we’re cooking, you’d spontaneously pull me into a dance and then dip me and slowly press a kiss against my lips.”

  “That’s doable, babe. Let’s plan for it. The night before the restaurant’s soft opening, let’s celebrate by going out on your perfect date.”

  “That’s a few months from now.”

  “Worth the wait, don’t you think?”

  She pulls away so we’re facing each other, her face barely visible in the darkness. “Think we’ll still be together a few months from now?”

  “If I have anything to do with it, we will.” I bring her head back down to my chest and run my fingers through her locks.

  The words are on the tip of my tongue: I love you. I want to say them, put them out there, let her know this is something special; this is more than me just liking her. I want to tell her about my crush, about how I’m pretty sure a small part of me has been in love with her for a long time, but it took me forever to realize it. But I stop myself. I think I’ll hold out for her perfect date.

  I actually couldn’t think of a better time.

  Stepping out of the shower, I wipe the fog off the tiny bathroom mirror and lean on the counter. I’m beat. Since I’m skipping out on some Lobster Landing shifts—not all of them, but a good portion—I went at it hard this morning on the boat, bringing in enough lobster to keep my bank account afloat.

  But hell, it feels like every muscle in my body is aching, and it probably doesn’t help that I spent the last night trying to figure out the best way possible to have Eve in my truck. My back and my ass are sore where the long gearshift kept poking me. On the actual butt cheek—not inside, you perverts.

  My phone beeps on the counter, so I wrap the towel around my waist and check it.

  Griffin: Wow, are they tearing down the whole building over there? It’s really fucking loud.

  Chuckling, I type back.

  Reid: Only for the first two days. Demo won’t take very long and then it’s a matter of putting everything together.

  Brig: I could hear it from the garage.

  Rogan: You also said you could hear it while getting coffee, and insisted it was so loud you couldn’t concentrate on your order.

  Brig: I have supersonic ears, like a rabbit. When you fools don’t think I can hear you talking about me, I do.

  Reid: It’s because we talk loud enough so you can hear what we’re saying.

  Brig: So you’re being rude, just to be rude? How did we grow up in the same household?

  Rogan: I ask myself that same question every day.

  Griffin: Did Dad like the plans?

  Reid: Loved them. He actually cried. It was weird but also felt really good.

  Brig: You made Dad cry? How did you hold it together? I would have been bawling like a baby.

  Griffin: We know.

  I’m about to respond when there’s a knock at my door. I set my phone down and look out the window and around the corner, catching a glimpse of Eric. Grateful it’s not a curious neighbor, I keep a firm hold on my towel, walk over to the door, and open it.

  “Hey,” I say as a greeting, but it barely falls off my lips as I take in the pure rage marring his features.

  Oh.

  Shit.

  “Is it true?” he asks through his teeth, seething as he bursts into my house.

  I shut the door quickly. “Is what true?” Because why not stall a little bit longer?

  From his back pocket he pulls out an old newspaper clipping, the one announcing my official relationship with Eve. The same article I was chuckling over just a couple of weeks ago.

  Fuck.

  Brandishing it in front of me, he repeats himself, “Is it true? I found this in Eve’s kitchen when I was cooking.”

  I can’t hold back the wince on my face or ignore the feeling of being caught red-handed, so I just come out with it.

  “It is.”

  He crumples the newspaper and starts pacing the floor. “And when were you going to fucking tell me? Never?”

  “No, not never. We were waiting.”

  He shakes his head and turns on me, jabbing his finger in my face. “End it. End it right fucking now.”

  “What?” I take a step back. “I’m not going to end it with Eve.”

  “The fuck you aren’t. Do you not remember what happened the last time? You don’t mix business with pleasure, Reid. I would have assumed you would take your own advice, the advice you gave me over three years ago.”

  “This is different,” I snap back.

  “Because it’s you?” He shakes his head. “It’s a distraction—for both of you. I love my sister more than anything, and I want to see her succeed. You’re a moody motherfucker who can flip at the drop of a hat. You need to focus on the restaurant, and she needs to focus on the business, on school, on becoming the woman she has been working so goddamn hard to become. She doesn’t need you and your drama and impulsiveness getting in the way.”

  “Wow, good to know you think so highly of me,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. But despite my stance and the strength in my voice, Eric’s words instantly start to eat away at my resolve.

  Since Eve and I have been together, I have been moody, unpredictable, a bastard at times, and she’s always been forgiving, understanding, and patient. How much more can she take, though? This restaurant won’t be easy—there will be really hard days, arguments—and I’m probably going to take it out on her. Will I push her away like I did before? I can’t guarantee I won’t. And strong as she is, I know my moods affect her. I can hardly admit it to myself, but I know it’s true. I love her—so much—but what if Eric is right, and I end up derailing her entire future?

  Then there’s the issue that’s been plaguing me ever since Eve came into the Lobster Landing looking for fudge: she’s driven and hardworking; she knows exactly what she wants in life and has taken the steps to accomplish it despite every speed bump and roadblock life has thrown her way. She doesn’t give up. But I do, and I could see her finding that a huge weakness—one I’m not sure I could ever overcome.

  “End it. Today,” Eric says.

  “And what if I don’t?”

  His eyes narrow. “Then I’m out. And you and I both know you don’t want to do this without me.”

  I fucking hate that he’s right.

  I run my tongue over my teeth and meet his gaze. “It’s not a fling for me, Eric. She’s more than that.”


  “And she’s been dicked over by guys in the past—even guys who cared about her. I would know since I was one of them. She needs this, this job, this opportunity. And you need this. What’s going on between the two of you is a distraction that none of us need. You saw what happened last time with Janelle. Relationships blind you; they muddy the waters, affect your decision-making, and we can’t have that. But if you won’t end it for us, end it for your dad. We can’t fuck this up for him.” And there it is, the one thing—besides Eve—that will bring me to my damn knees: mentioning my dad. “End it before it goes any further. It’s better this way, and I know my sister. She’ll act like a professional and move on.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want her to move the fuck on. Because I sure as hell won’t be able to.

  Then again, everything Eric has said has been completely, painfully true.

  I’m not the most levelheaded in the family, and even though I don’t want to admit it, I can see myself distracting Eve, pulling her away from her tasks to help soothe whatever bullshit my head is putting me through. That’s what these last few weeks have been, so why would that change all of a sudden?

  When my dad approached me about the restaurant, I shut down immediately, leaving her in the dark, taking off without saying goodbye. And when I got back, I snapped at her on the dock when she was just making sure I was okay. My problem was a blip in the road in the grand scheme of things, but I almost lost Eve over a blip. That night, when I went to her apartment, I thought she was going to break up with me, but somehow I managed to find the most forgiving woman on the planet.

  And when I blew up at her after she and Eric announced they were going to be a part of Knight and Port, I managed to not only insult her but also put our entire relationship on the line after just another blip.

  What happens when things don’t go right in the restaurant? When I lose my shit again? Is she going to be just as forgiving? Should I even let her be? How many times can I really dick her around until I should let her go?

  At this point, I think I’m pushing my luck.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out, my hand pushing through my hair. “Fuck.”

  “Do the right thing, Reid. Don’t fuck us over like I did.”

  My mind races, wrestling with the possibilities.

  My heart nearly breaks my rib cage with how hard it’s pounding.

  And an overwhelming sense of dread washes over me as I realize I don’t really have a choice in the matter.

  The stakes are so much higher now. It isn’t like Bar 79 when Eric and I lost everything; there are more people involved, more hearts on the line.

  Not only is this a second chance for me, a chance to find pride in myself again, but this is also a second chance for Eric, an opportunity for Eve she deserves more than anything, and lastly, a long-overdue dream of my dad’s coming true.

  This isn’t just about me; this is about everyone around me. My siblings, my mom, Eve, Eric, the town . . .

  I need this to be a success.

  I need this to be more than just an average restaurant in town.

  I need this to be a complete win, an empire, something that is passed on from generation to generation.

  Which brings me to the hardest decision of my life.

  I love her. I know deep in the marrow of my bones that Eve is the very match to my broken soul, and I would give anything to make her happy, even if it means taking a step back so, for once in her life, she can put herself first and accomplish what she’s been working so hard to achieve. I can’t fuck this up, no matter how much losing Eve is going to break me. I refuse to let anyone down ever again.

  Eric starts to leave, but before he makes it through the door, I call out, “Don’t be home tonight after her shift.”

  “Thank you,” he says without turning around. And with that, he takes off.

  When the door shuts, I crumble to my couch and press my head into my hands. End it. Two words that are going to change my entire life, and not for the better.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EVE

  As I wrap my coat around me—guarding against Maine’s early-spring cold—and make my way to my apartment, all I can think about is how I wish I could be wrapped up in Reid’s arms right about now, lying in bed together while watching some kind of mindless show, his hands playing with my hair, my hands stroking his bare chest.

  Instead, I have to go back to my apartment, to my brother, who is not going to cuddle with me and push his hand through my hair—not that I would want him to. Why I thought it was a good idea to have him stay at my place is beyond me, but it’s apparently a good form of torture given his incessant need to take up all the space in my living room with his bags and recipe books and notes. He’s messy, loud, and constantly trying to talk my ear off about all the new ideas that keep coming to him. I love the guy, but sometimes it’s nice to watch a show without hearing about the latest searing technique he’s learned.

  The wind blows my hair off my shoulder, and I pull my coat a little tighter as I crest the small hill that leads from the Inn to my apartment. I make quick work of the distance, not wanting to hang out in the dark by myself for too long. It’s a small town, but there are still creeps. There always are.

  Head tilted down, I’m almost at my apartment when I glance up and spot Reid’s truck—and then Reid, leaning against the hood, arms crossed, staring me down.

  What the hell is he doing here? I scan the parking lot; Eric’s car isn’t here, which means he isn’t either, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be coming home soon.

  “Reid, what are you doing here?” I say, hurrying over to him.

  Not quite looking me in the eye, he says, “I need to talk to you.”

  “Here? Now? Eric could be home any moment.”

  “He’s with Brig. They’re out for a bit.”

  “Okay.” I study him, the droop in his shoulders, the tension in his neck, the uneasiness vibrating off of him. Something’s wrong. “What happened?” I press my hand to his arm. “Is everything okay?”

  He pulls on the back of his neck, and a vein stands out on his forehead. Whatever happened is causing a lot of stress. “I . . . uh, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  “Okay,” I drawl out, taking a step closer, trying to ease the tension that’s holding him captive. “Is it about the restaurant?”

  “Sort of, yeah. You know it’s a big project, and my dad’s relying on me.”

  “Yes, but in just a few days you’ve already painted a beautiful picture of what’s to come. It’s going to be amazing, Reid.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He looks over my shoulder, still not meeting my eyes. “So it’s a lot of work. I’ve had a hard time in the past trying to keep it together during a project like this, and I don’t think I can handle it all.”

  “What do you need help with? I’m here for you.”

  I reach for his hand, but he takes a step back. And that’s when the hairs on the back of my neck rise, a shiver of anxiety passing through me.

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He lets out a deep breath, sticks his hands in his pockets, and stares at the ground. “I think we should, you know, maybe take a break or something.”

  My heart hitches in my chest, and my entire body goes still. Did I just hear him correctly? Take a break? That can’t be right. Just last night we were making promises about the perfect date before the soft opening. What happened between then and now? What’s made him do this about-face?

  “A break?” I glance around. “Is this some kind of weird joke you’re playing on me? Because I really don’t find it funny.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters, turning away. “It’s not a joke. I need to focus on the restaurant. I won’t have time to spend on you, and you should focus on yourself too. Finish up school, get Knight and Port ready, train with my dad. There’s no time for us.”

  “There’s time if you make time. It doesn’t need to be one or the other.”

  “I c
an’t have both.” He turns back around, his jaw firmly set. “I can’t manage both, and in the end, I’m just going to disappoint you—like I’ve been disappointing you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Eve,” he says, his curt, condescending tone lashing me right in the heart. “You can’t say our relationship has been easy.”

  “It’s not supposed to be easy,” I shoot back. “If a relationship is easy, then you haven’t broken the surface of the emotions that make someone the person they are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but every relationship does; that’s what makes you stronger.”

  “It’s only going to get worse. Don’t kid yourself.”

  “Why? Why do you think it’s going to get worse? Because you’re taking on a new responsibility? Because you’re starting something new? Of course it’s going to be stressful and hard at times, but that’s why you have me—to lean on.”

  “I know you think I can be a better man, the man you deserve, but I know that’s bullshit,” he snaps. “People can’t change. I can’t change.”

  Caught off guard at his abrupt confession, I take a step back, my feet aching from my long shift. “I don’t want you to change. I like you for the man you are.”

  A sarcastic laugh pops out of him as he looks down and shakes his head. “You’re delusional then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He doesn’t answer; instead, he jumps to the last thing I expected to hear tonight. “Might as well end it now before I fuck up the restaurant and hurt you even more.”

  “End it? Now we’re breaking up? I thought you just wanted to take a break.”

  “They’re the same fucking thing.” He tosses his hand up in frustration.

  “So.” I take a deep breath. “You’re breaking up with me because you think that’s what’s best . . . for the restaurant.”

  “Yes, and for you. For everyone. This way we’re not sneaking around; we’re not getting distracted. You focus on your shit—I’ll focus on mine.”

  “Oh, how nice. Should we high-five in passing too? Just drop all the feelings we’ve developed, and go back to just being friends?”

  “Sure,” he says, the sarcasm starting to build in his voice. “If that’s what you want, I’ll hand out a high five here and there.”