Averill _A Secrets Novella

by D. B. James

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Wedding from Rhys’ POV

  Acknowledgements & Shit

  About the Author

  Averill

  A Secrets Novella

  D.B. James

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Wedding from Rhys’ POV

  Acknowledgements & Shit

  About the Author

  Averill

  Copyright © 2017 by DB James

  Kindle Edition

  Editor: Editing by C. Marie

  Formatter: AB Formatting

  Cover Design: Mischievous Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Synopsis

  Wishes and dreams were two things Averill was always taught to not put too much stock in, but here she is, just days away from marrying her childhood crush. Everything is perfect—that is, if you don’t count the unwanted (but loved) houseguest, her delay in asking her father to give her away, the grueling task of unraveling the mystery behind Rhys’ letters, and the looming feeling that something is missing in her life.

  When it finally hits her just what it is, she knows she’ll have an uphill battle to get everyone on board. They’ll say it’s too soon, will say she’s insane, but she knows it’s what she wants.

  She’s just hoping Rhys will too.

  To all the believers of fairy tales, this one’s for you.

  For going on nearly six months now, my life with Rhys has been…perfect. Sure, there have been a few snags, hitches, and one minor obstacle to overcome, but we’ve managed to make it through in one piece.

  To quote the devilishly handsome Matthew McConaughey, life has been “all right, all right, all right.”

  Besides our wedding, there’s only one thing I’d love to happen more than anything in this world.

  I’d love to be blessed with a baby.

  I’m not exactly sure how to broach the subject with Rhys. He’s never said outright he doesn’t want kids. On the other hand, he’s never claimed to want any either.

  Lately my dreams have been filled with visions of an ocher-eyed, pint-sized girl with a head of dark, curly hair running through the back yard, playing with Sadie. Oh, did I mention Rhys bought me a puppy? Her name is Sadie and she’s a Pomeranian-Pug mix. She’s one of those dogs where her ugliness makes her cute. From the moment she laid her chocolate eyes on me, I adored her.

  He must know about my dreams of starting a family, and bringing home Sadie is probably his way of saying, Maybe someday, but first let’s practice with a puppy. I guess it’s a step up from him bringing home a plant, right?

  Since the horrible day I lost a piece of myself, I’ve wanted to experience the feeling again, the feeling I felt for only a few short weeks.

  The feeling of being a mother.

  The day I found out at the doctor’s office until the moment my baby was brutally taken from me, I was his or her mother. I loved my tiny lovebug immensely from the second I found out I was expecting.

  Robert Smith stole my lovebug.

  My poor baby was cursed from the day it was conceived, only no one was the wiser.

  One day, I know Rhys will give me the baby I truly desire, and maybe it’s time we finally have the discussion…or maybe it can wait until after the wedding. Since it is only days away, I’m okay with setting the subject of starting a family aside for the remainder of the week, but the moment we exchange vows, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

  After the rape, I was hesitant to find out whether or not I’d be able to carry a baby to full term, and it took me nearly a whole year to bring myself to ask a doctor. After my yearly gynecologist visit—and her running a few extra tests—everything came back normal.

  I should be able to carry a baby to term without any issues.

  The day I received the news that I could still potentially be a mother was one of the happiest days of my life. I may not have had Rhys at the time, but at least I knew I could always start a family of my own someday. After all, sperm banks and IVF exist for a reason.

  Everything I longed for as a young girl is days away from becoming my shiny new reality. From the second I heard Rhys tell our teacher his name wasn’t “Rice”, I fell a tiny bit in love with him. When he started carrying around Reese’s Pieces in his pocket, he nearly stole my whole heart.

  For the few years I was with Alix, I lied to myself about my feelings for him. What I felt for him wasn’t love, at least not like the love I feel by merely glancing into Rhys’ eyes.

  Rhys is my soul mate.

  Deep down, I’ve always known our souls were connected. We may have taken a few twists and turns, but we’ve finally found our way back to each other.

  Instead of sitting here pondering, I may as well get my ass in gear and actually go pick up my wedding dress. Can you believe it? My wedding dress, the one I’ll wear walking down an aisle to recite sacred vows to the man of my dreams…in three short days.

  Holy. Shit.

  “Tessa?” I call out into the quiet house; she’s around here somewhere. Last I knew she was upstairs.

  She’s been staying at Casa de Gallhagar since we picked her up from the airport on Friday morning. She was supposed to stay with Brant but gave us a lame excuse, saying “Ace” is a complete pain in her ass, and we ended up caving and letting her stay with us. Easier on me when I have errands to run, horrible on us when we want alone time—we tend to be vocal lovemakers. What can I say? I’m not sorry about pleasing my man.

  “Be down in a jiffy, baby cakes.”

  Wonderful. I want to get my dress tried on one more time to make sure it’s perfect before I pack it up to bring it home.

  Holy shit, my wedding is in three days.

  “Would you like to drive Mystique? It would be our secret of course. You’d have to keep it between us. Rhys would kill me if he knew I’d let you drive his precious baby, but he did leave these sweet babies”—I dangle the keys from my finger— “in my possession today. I’m taking it as an invitation to take her out for a ride, open her up on the freeway and let her purr. What do you say? Are you in?”

  Without answering me, she comes flying down the stairs. Sliding is actually more accurate since she literally slides down the banister. “Gimme, gimme.” She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet like a kid on Christmas morning. I laugh to myself, because come on, how can you not laugh at two grown adults this excited about driving a car?


  “Tessa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you solemnly swear you’re up to no good?”

  “Are you fucking Harry Pottering me? Give me the keys to that gorgeous beast of a car and we’ll go pick up your equally stunning wedding dress.”

  “Answer the question or I’m driving her. She only purrs for me.” It’s a lie, but Tessa doesn’t need to know that. She’s never driven her and has only been for one teeny tiny ride around the block. She has no idea if she purrs for Rhys or not; she’s never experienced her out on the open road.

  “Fine. I solemnly swear I’m up to no good. Now, give me those keys.”

  Making a huge deal out of simply handing her the keys, I let out a long, drawn-out sigh before plopping them down into her open and eager palm.

  “No telling Rhys. More importantly, no telling Brant—he’s horrible when it comes to keeping secrets.” He did spill his guts to Justin when we were all hiding from Rob—or Smith, whatever he liked to be called at the time. The point is, Brant is a terrible secret keeper—the worst.

  Huffing, she snatches the keys and proceeds into the garage ahead of me with them clutched in her grasp. My words obviously pissed her off, and without a doubt, it was the mention of Brant. Why she has a problem with him, I haven’t a clue.

  “Don’t angry-drive this sapphire beauty, please.”

  Getting into the passenger side feels bizarre without Rhys driving—not only bizarre, but wrong. Shrugging off the feeling, I settle in for the short ride to the bridal salon. It’s a few miles before Tessa breaks the silence.

  “I’m not angry, or to clarify, I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t have spilled our secret to Brant—maybe to Rhys after a few glasses of wine, but never to Brant. We don’t get along. You know how he practically hates me, Av. I’ll be grateful when this wedding is over and my duty is done because I’ll never again have to stand by his side.”

  The thing is, I’m not entirely sure how her comments make me feel. It makes me feel sad for her, because she has to stand with someone she doesn’t care much for while watching her best friend make the sacred vows of marriage. On the other hand, it kind of pisses me off. Her wanting this wedding to be done and over with only to get away from Brant—it’s a bullshit excuse, and frankly, I’m a bit hurt. She wants these next few days filled with precious, life-altering moments to be over as quickly as they’ve begun.

  It’s my day.

  My event.

  My once-in-a-lifetime fairy tale, and I don’t believe in fairy tales.

  She had her once in a lifetime and she threw him away, none of which is my fault or any of my business. One day when she’s ready, she’ll tell me everything.

  Well guess what Tessa? You’re in for the surprise of your life. I may not have informed Rhys of my plans yet, but you’re now coming along on our honeymoon, at least for the first week of it. She and Brant need more time together, not apart.

  Better pack your bags, bitch. You’re going to Cancun.

  Now all I have to do is convince Rhys this is an excellent idea—oh yeah, and have him convince Brant to come along too.

  It’s totally doable.

  Maybe…

  Twenty minutes later we’re flanked by two bridal salon employees. They’re holding glasses of champagne for Tessa and myself while we both stare at my reflection in the mirror and cry.

  We’re not standing here staring at the reflection thinking, Oh my god, it’s pretty. Nope, not us. This is full-on, snot-dripping, we-can’t-catch-our-breaths crying. You know the kind—the ugly cry. We’re crying unbelievably hard because, Oh my god, it’s the dress, and the poor souls having to care for us are clueless as to how to help us. One is finally brave enough to offer us anything besides the champagne they’ve been pushing at us for the last several minutes.

  “Tissue?” It’s all she says. We both cave and grab for the tissues at the same time, finally breaking out of our dress-induced crying haze.

  “Cheese and rice, Tessa, I’m getting married in three days. Did you know it’s only something like seventy hours until my last name will legally be Gallhagar? What the shit? How is this my life?”

  Laughing, she plops down and leans back as far as she can into the couch’s cushion in the bridal suite of the shop. I’m still in my dress, and we asked to open a fresh bottle of champagne—why not celebrate paying nearly half a year’s salary on a dress I’ll wear once? Besides, we earned this champagne by crying our tears. If we overindulge, we’ll just call one of the guys to come grab us.

  “From the moment I met you, I knew you’d be here—maybe not here in Michigan, but I knew you’d be grabbing on to your happiness. Your eyes have always given me your answers. You longed to put down some solid roots, and Rhys is the other half to your soul. He completes you.”

  Taking a few moments to myself, I let her words seep in.

  I’m sure I’d make a frightening scene if a potential bride were to walk in. I’m sprawled across a sofa cushion, drinking free champagne, trying to hold back fresh tears while I think about Tessa saying Rhys is my soul mate. She’s given voice to what I’ve always believed is true in my heart. I’ve never spoken the words aloud to anyone, have only voiced them to myself a million times.

  He’s my lobster.

  My one and only.

  My forever.

  We need to change the subject fast before I start crying again, scaring away any blushing brides from finding the dress of their dreams.

  “Tessa, who have you been sailing with lately? Better yet, how sizeable is his boat?” Yes, I went there. No, I don’t give a shit. She’s my best friend and we’re supposed to share this type of information, and if she asks why I’m asking, I can easily blame the champagne.

  Laughing extremely hard, she holds her sides from the merriment she’s feeling. It takes her a solid two minutes to get herself under control before she can answer me. I love her when she’s like this, exactly like this.

  Effervescent.

  Bubbly.

  Enthusiastic.

  Happy.

  When I met Tessa, she was carefree and wild. Her divorce had recently been finalized and she was living life to its fullest, but over the last year, I’ve noticed she’s changed. She’s more…muted.

  “Av, this isn’t a conversation we should be having in a bridal salon. Let’s get out of these dresses and walk to the bar I spied down the street. We can hang out there for a while before calling Rhys to come rescue us, and I’ll tell you all about who I’m ‘sailing’ with.”

  “And his sizable boat?”

  “And his sizeable boat, I promise. Now let’s get going.”

  Sounds like a great plan to me.

  We’re well into our third pitcher of margaritas before I send a text to Rhys letting him know we need to be picked up. We’re both way too drunk to walk, let alone drive. On my last visit to the ladies’ room, I could’ve sworn the flowers in the wallpaper were dancing. Yep, dancing flowers on the wall. At least they weren’t singing…yet.

  My drink limit was probably met before we stepped foot in this bar, but I felt like celebrating more with my best friend before going home. I didn’t want to let the feeling of the bridal salon fade away.

  “I sent Rhys a text. I’m not sure if it makes any sense, but it’s sent. Our party is about to officially be crashed.”

  Last I knew, he was at work taking care of a few last-minute details on a case he’s handing over to his partner, Ryan. He’s been busy clearing his workload before we leave for our honeymoon.

  “Av, why did you text him already? I wanted to try the blackberry margaritas next. Besides, I haven’t told you who I’ve been ‘sailing’ with lately.” Her voice comes out all whiny and nasally, which isn’t like her at all.

  “Yes! Do tell. I must know. I’ve only ever been sailing with two men in my whole life, and now one of them is pulling into my port permanently. You must share this information with me. I have to live vicariously through your stories for the re
st of my life.”

  It’s not like sailing with Rhys is boring—far from it. Before him, I didn’t know such a connection was real. Sure, I’d read about it in my romance novels and watched them unfold in movies and on television. I’d always believed them for the fiction they were, and then Rhys officially ruined me for any other man the second he kissed me.

  “Well, I’ve been sleeping with this guy named Holt. He’s intense, way demanding and forceful in the bedroom—I’m talking super dominant. He’s definitely pushed my limits sexually. The only issue with him is, I don’t like him at all outside the bedroom. He’s a bit of a pussy in real life. It’s strange. He’s like two completely different people. Basically, I’m only using him for his dick.”

  Oh. Okay then.

  It’s a good thing I wasn’t taking a sip of my drink or I may have choked.

  “I sure wasn’t expecting any of that to come out of your mouth.”

  Taking a moment, I ask her what I truly want to know, because how can I not? “Do you like to be dominated? And if you do, why did I not know this about you?”

  “Eh, maybe? My ex-husband never told me what to do, just forced me to do it. That coupled with the fact that he nearly killed me is why we divorced, but trust me, Mick had no clue what to do in the bedroom. Since the divorce, I’ve been casually hooking up with guys here and there. Nothing sticks. I’m not sure what I like, but I don’t mind what Holt does to me in the bedroom. He does manage to give me some killer orgasms. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to find my happily ever after.”

  Hold on, back this train the fuck up. Her ex did what?

  “Excuse me?” It comes out slightly harsher than I intended.

  “I’m not looking for my happily ever after,” she replies.

  “Not what I needed repeating. You know about what Rob did to me. How come this is the first I’ve heard about your ex nearly killing you?”

  Instead of answering, she lifts her glass and downs the rest of her drink, effectively shutting me out. If she doesn’t want to talk about it now, fine, but she’s not getting off that easily.