Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Aww, that’s no fair! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve cooked for a girl? How am I supposed to know how to cook for the next one?”

  “The next one?” Ana pretended to be offended. “I must have quite the effect if you’re already thinking about the next girl!”

  The pain in Alex’s head was throbbing so badly he considered bashing his forehead into a rock to silence it. Finn had cooked for her. And they were flirting. Flirting.

  He couldn’t hear what they said next, but they both erupted in silly giggles and Ana said, “Meh, it was all right, I guess.” More laughter.

  “I could bring more over if you want,” Finn offered. “You’re going to need food with the storms coming in.”

  Alex could almost hear her smile. “That’s really nice of you… but I think Alex is going to bring some by later.” Did he detect a hint of embarrassment with the last part?

  Finn laughed. “Alex is a special guy.”

  “He’s been a lot of help to me since I got here,” Ana said generously. “I wouldn’t have known half of what I needed to do if it weren’t for him.” At this, the throbbing in Alex’s head slowed slightly.

  “I think he likes you,” Finn teased.

  Ana chuckled. “No, I highly doubt that.” Alex narrowed his eyes. The giggling, the flirting, this was not Ana, not at all. She was quiet, and thoughtful, and kind... she was not one of those girls.

  “You’ve made quite an impression on him.”

  “Alex is a nice guy,” she said, hesitantly. “A little odd—I’ll grant you that—but he’s been really great to me. I guess you could say he’s the closest thing I have to a friend out here.”

  A little odd? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  Finn smiled. “I’m glad to know you haven’t been out here alone.”

  “I’m sure that’s why it took you a month to introduce yourself,” Ana scolded.

  “I was trying to respect your privacy.”

  “Someone in a small town trying to respect the privacy of the new girl?” She laughed shortly. “Somehow, I’m skeptical.”

  Alex could see Finn walking toward Ana, and the two were now face to face. “I sensed you wanted your space.”

  The silence on the porch was so thick that Alex was afraid to even breathe for fear of giving himself away. He had a horrible, sinking feeling they were kissing, or about to. His stomach dropped, but then, to his relief, Ana turned away from Finn.

  “It’s getting cold,” she said.

  Alex saw Finn lift a sweater off a chair and drape it over Ana. “Storm is coming,” he observed, standing behind her. Too close for Alex’s comfort. “Let’s go in.”

  The sound of the screen door clanking against the wooden frame reverberated through Alex’s skull, over and over. The pain was so intense it was now also a sound, in the form of a high-pitched screech so loud and deafening that Alex worried surely others had to be hearing it too. He gripped the sides of his head and stumbled back toward the driveway, kicking the box of food over as he did, hobbling down the long stretch toward his truck.

  Alex threw himself across the bucket seat, nearly tearing the glove box open. He rifled around for the pills—he knew he had some in here—and his hand stopped as it grasped a bottle, finally. He ripped the childproof lid clear off and swallowed twice the recommended dose. The rest of the pills dropped to the floor. Alex flopped back on the seat, trying to breathe and force the pain and screeching sounds away.

  Tonight had not gone as planned. At all. Finnegan St. Andrews was young, and handsome, and seemed to have almost no care in the world. Alex knew his history... knew about all of the girls Finn had dated on the island, and how none of them had lasted. Ana didn’t deserve that! She deserved better. She deserved to be cared for, and respected. Finn would see her as nothing more than something new to play with.

  Alex closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass so he could drive home. When he finally started the engine, the throbbing was a dim memory and his mind was clear.

  “My job is to take care of you Ana,” he said, not realizing he was speaking aloud. “I’ve always done my job. Always. I’m not going to stop now.”

  * * *

  12- FINNEGAN

  The house wasn't as bad as Ana made it out to be. The kitchen was in disarray from the food carnage, but she was a very tidy person from what he could see in the rest of the house. If it weren't for the book on one of the end tables that had a bookmark in it, and a cup of cold coffee alongside, Finn might wonder if anyone even lived in the house.

  After the tour, she set to tidying up the kitchen while he started preparing food. She had taken her sweater off, revealing a plain white tee. At one point she caught him watching and he looked down quickly, embarrassed.

  Finn wasn't sure what it was about her that interested him. He barely even knew her. She was entirely different from the kind of women he normally dated: girls with big personalities, big other things, and small tendencies for commitment. He knew his lifestyle was simple; that most girls would realize it at some point and the relationship would go no further. His easygoing ambitions wouldn’t change, and he was okay with that, but he knew most women wouldn’t be. He dated accordingly.

  He wasn't nervous around Ana. Didn't feel the need to put on an act, or be tough. She was down-to-earth, and instantly put him at ease... even if he did feel silly about getting caught watching her. What could Finn say, though? That he wasn't checking her out? It was more about fascination than coveting. Who is this girl?

  She remarked it must be painful for a lobster to be boiled alive, and he told her that the lobster had no pain sensors. She seemed amazed he would know that. “If only we could be as fortunate as lobsters,” she remarked.

  “Fortunate enough to be boiled alive and eaten?”

  “No, to be able to go through the worst things imaginable, and feel no pain.”

  She was joking, but Finn saw something in Ana’s eyes that made him want to hug her.

  And then there was that moment when he had cut his finger with the kitchen knife. She ran to his side and took his hand in hers, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath. He started to tell her it was fine, to lie that it didn’t hurt, but then, suddenly… it didn’t hurt. Finn looked at his hand and the bleeding had stopped. Her mouth was open in shock and surprise, and she was smiling, but when he asked her what that was about, she shook her head and mumbled something about how squeezing a wound just right dulled the pain.

  Finn grinned at her suspiciously. “My father was a doctor, and I don’t remember that technique,” he teased, but she was already setting the table.

  After dinner, he asked her why she had come to Maine. He though he already knew but wanted to hear her explanation. How many other people had come to Maine for inspiration, or to write a big novel?

  But Ana surprised him when she admitted, “I don't know, exactly. I guess I wanted something different.” She studied him, as if expecting him to smirk. When he didn't, she relaxed and added, “I didn't use my father's money to come here, either. I know that's what people think. I have made my own money, doing my own things. And I own this house myself.”

  “I didn't think that, and I wouldn't know what others say,” Finn told her. “But I understand about getting away.”

  “Do you? You seem happy here.”

  “I didn't say I wasn't happy,” he qualified. “But sometimes it would be nice to get away.”

  Ana nodded, a dark, faraway look in her eye. There was more to her story. Finn sensed she even wanted to share it with someone, but she seemed to have a fortress built around her.

  They talked, then, for hours. She told him about growing up in New Orleans, as an only child. She mentioned only briefly the money her family came from, and though he was curious, she didn’t linger on the topic long. She seemed embarrassed about her background, and a few times she even sounded apologetic.

  Finn told her about growing up on the island. About his father, and
his visionary medical practice. He talked about his choice to both go to college and subsequently abandon the endeavor. He also told her about Jon, and his dreams of being a doctor, and how he had quit suddenly to attend veterinary school. She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

  As they talked, he realized there was another reason he went after the type of girls he usually did. The smarter ones made him feel inadequate. It wasn't enough for him to tell them he went to college, and read the same books. That he could understand the things they talked about, but excluded him from. He would always be Finnegan St. Andrews to them; the fisherman. Those worlds did not blend.

  But around Ana, who was clearly well-educated, he felt like he was in equal company. She didn't look at him with pity or condescension. Rather, she saw a man who was interesting company.

  “How long are you going to stay?” Finn hoped she heard nothing more than the question in his voice.

  “I don't know. I like it here, but I feel no different than I did when I was at home. Unfortunately, it seems changing locations didn’t change anything. Maybe there is something fundamentally wrong with me.” Ana laughed, but he didn’t think she was joking.

  “There’s something fundamentally wrong with all of us,” he teased.

  She looked at the table, dropping her eyes. “You really have no idea, Finn.”

  He had that sense again, that she had stories to tell and needed to get them off her chest. “So, tell me.”

  Ana shifted her gaze toward the window, still avoiding his eyes. “I’m really messed-up.”

  Finn didn’t say anything. He feared she would stop talking and withdraw altogether if he tried to argue with her, and he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “I wish I could say that I was simply lost, and didn’t know myself... but the problem is, I do know myself. I know exactly who I am.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to talk to people. You know how you see groups at a restaurant and they’re having a meaningful conversation, and it looks completely natural? I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to talk about my feelings, and I don’t know how to help others with theirs.”

  He couldn’t help himself from saying, “You’re doing it right now.”

  Ana gave that same short laugh, as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Because I hardly know you, and I know that once I tell you how fucked-up I am, I’m not going to know you for much longer.”

  Finn shook his head. “We’re all fucked-up, Ana. But go on, so I can prove you wrong.”

  Her eyes were glistening, her cheeks a rosy pink, but she was not crying. Her breaths came rapidly. “I don’t have any friends except my cousin, and he’s as messed-up as I am. I haven’t had a boyfriend who lasted longer than three months, and every relationship I’ve ever had ended because of me. It’s always the men telling me that I am too emotionally detached... that I can’t talk about my feelings… that I’m cold and withdrawn...”

  Finn was thinking this was probably how his brother Jon felt.

  “The emotions are there,” Ana continued, “but I don’t know how to articulate them. It’s like, I open my mouth, and there’s a small hand wrapped around my neck, stopping me from speaking. One time, I had a boyfriend tell me he loved me and all I could do was cough. I mean it, I literally coughed. I couldn’t speak... there were so many things running through my head and all I could do was freaking cough...”

  She stood up and poured herself a glass of water. “He said I had ice in my heart. I didn’t know how to disagree with him. I have feelings...” Ana paused and looked down at her water, swirling it around in the glass. “I don’t know how to explain to people what it’s like to be a prisoner of your own thoughts.”

  “I’m still here,” Finn said. “You haven’t scared me off yet.”

  “I’m not finished,” she replied. He motioned for her to go on.

  “So, finally,” Ana continued, “I gave up. I can’t be someone I’m not and I was tired of going through the exact same futile motions with every relationship.” She walked back to the table and sat down, staring out the window, at the ocean, again. “It all started so innocently. A one-night stand isn’t a crime. But afterward, when I was back in my own bed and reflecting on the evening, I felt... relieved. Happy, even. I don’t even remember learning his name, I only remember how much I enjoyed myself... the freedom of release, but without having to explain myself.”

  Finn couldn’t help himself from laughing. “So you discovered you like sex. Congratulations, Ana, you’re human!”

  “It’s more than that. Maybe if I had stopped there, or only did it occasionally. But I started going out several times a week. Picking up different men every time. When I started recognizing the same men in the same pubs, I changed to a different part of town. Instead of businessmen, now it was cops, and firemen, and construction workers.” She looked up at him. “The worst part is, I can’t even quantify this sick side of me, because at some point I lost count.”

  Finn hadn’t been expecting this admission, but he wasn’t put off. “Would you feel better if I told you I lost count at some point too?”

  “I’m not joking. I’m not making this up.”

  “I know you’re not,” he said. “And I don’t care. Do you see me running out the door in horror? I don’t do relationships, either. Never have.” That wasn’t entirely true. He had before, but he was older now, and knew he had nothing to offer a woman.

  Ana stared at length, studying him. “I don’t want to be like this,” she said finally.

  Finn was unsure of how to respond. She was obviously torn in half by who she was, and he couldn’t relate. He knew who he was, knew his limitations, and had accepted them long ago.

  “Do you know why I never came by to introduce myself?” she asked, eyes fixed on his. “Because, Finn, you remind me of exactly the kind of man I’m trying to stay away from.”

  Finn didn’t know what to make of that, either. He wanted to insist he wasn’t like those men, but how could he, without trivializing how she felt? “Maybe I’m a good influence. I mean, you’re here, talking about your feelings, something you claim to be incapable of doing. We could have had sex three times in the two hours we’ve been talking.”

  She laughed, caught off guard. “This has been the strangest conversation of my life. Maybe the longest, too.”

  “I can honestly say the same,” he concurred with a laugh. “But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” He lowered his voice. “You wanna know why I do it?”

  Ana nodded.

  Finn pointed at the ocean. “Every day, I get up, get dressed, and go out on the sea. I come home every night and have dinner with my brother. Sometimes I go into town, go drinking, and go… well, you know… but that’s it. I don’t want anything else, and, like you said, I can’t change. There’s no woman out there who’s going to want that for the rest of her life.” He stopped and put his hand over hers. “We all have our reasons.”

  After the words were out of his mouth, a very unexpected feeling took over him. As he watched her sad face, the sea, his rituals, and his life became distant and unimportant, and he could see himself wanting more. He felt a flush rise to his face and he took a deep breath, trying to slow his pulse.

  Ana opened her mouth, but stopped short of saying anything. Finn saw the thousand thoughts swimming behind her bright blue eyes. They could have an entire conversation with their eyes, and thoughts unspoken.

  He was afraid to consider the implications. He wanted to kiss her, but he thought of her confession and was afraid to push her away. You remind me exactly of the kind of man I’m trying to stay away from.

  Ana looked past him then and pointed out the window. “Wow!” she almost yelled. “Would you look at that?”

  Finn turned and saw the snow coming down, furiously. At a glance, he could see there was already a couple of inches on the ground, and he knew that would grow considerably before morning. He guessed about a foot and a half, if
not more, by morning. He wondered again how Ana would do in her first storm.

  “Ana, are you going to be okay here by yourself?” he asked, concerned.

  “It's just snow, right?” she answered, but looked unsure. He knew even experienced islanders had difficulties in bad storms.

  “I really don't want to, but I need to get back to the house. My brother will be home soon, if he isn’t already. We need to move the lobster tanks up to the house or we won't be able to get to them if the snow lasts.” Finn took both of her hands in his, feeling bold. “Come with me. You can even stay a few days if you want, and I can show you how to get around in the bad weather.”

  “I don't think your brother likes me very much,” she said in earnest. “And besides, I can't rely on the kindness of strangers for everything. I did take your lobster after all,” Ana teased.

  “My brother doesn't like anyone,” Finn countered. “And I hardly think we are strangers anymore.”

  “Just because I threw my problems into your lap...”

  “Fine,” he said, looking intently at her. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before. Not even Jon.”

  She smiled slowly. “I’m intrigued.”

  He cleared his throat. “I... am afraid of the ocean.”

  Ana burst into laughter, shaking her head. “All right, goodnight Finn.”

  He put his hand on the table and leaned toward her. “Serious. I almost drowned when I was thirteen and I’ve been terrified ever since.” His hand moved instinctively to his chest, as he often did when thinking of his scar.

  “Then, why are you a fisherman?”

  “Because it’s who I am,” Finn said simply.

  “I think I understand,” Ana replied, smiling. “Maybe I will drop by tomorrow.”

  A nice brush-off, but a brush-off nonetheless. Or was it? Hard to tell with her.

  She walked him to the door and when she opened it, the wind was blowing so hard they both had to shield themselves from the snow that came driving into the house. Boldness overtook him, and this time he did kiss her. He felt her stiffen at first and then her hand slid up and gently touched the back of his head, as she returned the kiss. Unexpected warmth coursed through him.