Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Because I don’t want you to feel like he abandoned you by not pushing you to talk to him. He’s just been giving you some space.”

  I unfolded my arms and looked beyond the glass entrance of the terminal to the people flooding the airport, gathering around the baggage collection for flight 728. Mike’s flight.

  “He’s here.” I unlatched the seatbelt, my heart picking up about ten paces. I wished I could see him—just make him out among the crowd so I could sneak up on him, see how different he looked—before he saw me.

  “Go on.” Dad grinned, watching me edge forward in my seat. “I’ll wait here; give you two a minute.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” I beamed as I sprung from the car.

  While people gathered their bags from the conveyor belt and hugged their families, I pushed against the tightly-packed bodies, using my elbows to almost swim through the crowd. My gaze shifted, scrutinizing every man with his physical features, until I spotted a guy on his phone by the Coke machine: sandy-colored hair, broad shoulders. I squinted, jutting my neck forward as I took baby steps in his direction, seeing only flashes as the crowd of people stole my view several times. It looked like Mike, but if it was, then he’d changed. A lot.

  A wave of certainty flooded me when he threw his bag over his shoulder and flipped his phone in the air before stuffing it in his back pocket. That was him! He was so much taller than I remembered, though, and bigger, too. His blue shirt fit snuggly around the bulges of his arms, as if he hadn’t realized how big they were and that his shirt no longer fit, but there was still that something in the way he held himself. It was sort of a tall stance, with the kind of confidence that came from being an officer of authority. He looked good. He looked… sexy.

  Mike spun around suddenly, eyes lighting up when he saw me. “Ara?”

  I couldn’t move. I’d imagined this moment so many times in my mind—how I’d run into his arms and he’d lift me off the ground and kiss me like he loved me—but that was always only a dream, and I left that behind. I found another reason to exist. Yet still, as I looked upon my old crush for the first time in so long, my new reason to exist seemed to fade for that one moment. And whether it was by habit or longing, for that single moment, I still wanted Mike just as bad as before.

  “Ara.” He ushered me to him. “What ya waitin’ for? Come here.”

  With no mind for the family walking in my path, I darted forward, forcing them to part as I launched toward Mike, barely giving him a chance to drop his bag before I jumped into his arms. We stumbled back a few steps with the force of my eager embrace, a physical reaction my steady-legged vampire could never have, unless he was pretending to be human. I just loved how human Mike was right then.

  “Whoa, baby. That’s happiness to see me.” His widespread fingers pressed firmly against the back of my ribs.

  I squeezed his neck, wrapping my legs around his hips, probably showing my undies to every dirty old man who cared to look. He just felt so good to hold, though; a little piece of the past, with a warmth that could only be human, as if he’d carried some of the Perth sun all the way to the U.S. with him.

  I rested my cheek in his neck. “I missed you so much.”

  Mike’s arms stopped the air from coming into my lungs. “I missed you too, kid.”

  When he went to lower me, I held on tighter. “Not yet. Just… not yet.”

  “It’s okay, Ara. Let go. I’m not going anywhere.” He unwound my arms from his neck and placed me on the ground. I pulled my dress down to cover my undies. “Let me get a look at you.” He shook his head, smiling. “You’ve gotten thinner. Are you eating?”

  “You sound like my mom.” I clutched the edges of my dress in fists of nerves. “And, yes, I do eat.”

  “What’s this?” He reached for my locket.

  “Oh, um. A friend gave it to me.” I took it from his hand and dropped it back into place.

  “You belong to me?” His eyes narrowed under a rutted brow.

  “Ah, yeah. It’s um… a good friend?” I offered.

  “David?” he asked accusingly.

  “Maybe.”

  Mike just blinked a few times, then drew a deep breath through his nose and placed his arm around my shoulder. “Should I be worried?”

  “Mike? You’ve been here for a whole two seconds. Don’t start.”

  “I don’t like it, Ara. You belong to me? It sounds possessive.”

  “You’re just jealous,” I said, smiling.

  “Jealous, huh?” His face lit up and his eyes warmed with so much familiarity that all the pain of the separation over these last few months melted away. He grabbed my hand. “So what if I am? You’ve always been my best friend. Then, out of nowhere, you meet some random guy, fall in love with him, and he brands you with his mark. Now, all of a sudden, you belong to him?”

  Brands me? A quick breath came cold into my lungs as I reached for the yellowing bruises on my neck, but when Mike’s eyes narrowed as he looked at my hand, I tensed from toes to shoulders, realizing that wasn’t the mark he was referring to.

  He grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from my neck, gasping loudly when he saw what was hiding beneath my carefully styled, bruise-covering hair. “Who did this to you?”

  I shrank into myself, looking around. “Mike, stop it. Please. People are staring.”

  “I don’t care. Look at you. What kind of a guy would bruise a young girl like this?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Oh, really. Then what’s the story, Ara?”

  “Look, he wasn’t trying to hurt me, okay? Just stop worrying about me all the time.”

  Mike grabbed my chin and studied the marks on both sides of my neck. “Stop worrying, huh? Well, it certainly looks like I should be concerned. Have you seen this? Have you looked at yourself? Jesus, girl.” He released my face gently. “What the hell is that? A hickey? Because it sure as hell doesn’t look like any hickey I’ve ever seen.”

  “It was an accident,” I said bashfully. “We were just playing around. I bit him and then when he… well, we got a little carried away.”

  Mike’s arms dropped to his sides and disappointment filled his watery eyes. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “No.”

  He looked around the busy terminal, rubbing at the frown on his face. “I’m sorry, Ara. I just… I’ve been missing you for so long; worried because I can’t be here to look after you, and I find this.” He held his hand out, presenting the bruise. “It looks like a severe case of abuse.”

  “Stop it.” I lowered my head to hide behind my hair. “I know it looks bad. I don’t need you making it worse.”

  He clicked his tongue and wrapped both arms around my shoulders, muffling my breath against his chest. I hated the fact that our dramatic reunion in the middle of the airport was on display to hundreds of people—all watching.

  “I’m sorry, Ar.” He rubbed my back. “Okay? I’m not mad at you. I’m just”—with a sigh, he pulled back, carefully studying every inch of my face—“I’m mad at myself. I never should’ve let your dad take you away. I should’ve come after you, or kept you with me.”

  I shook my head. “He’d never have let me stay, Mike.”

  “He would’ve let you stay with me.”

  I shook my head again. I was glad I came here; glad I met David—even though I was going to lose him. “He didn’t hurt me, Mike. I wanted him to do it. I liked it.”

  “Ara? You’re just a girl. You shouldn’t be playing games like that with boys. He should’ve known better,” Mike said in a singing tone. “Look, I’m sorry. I just lost it, is all. I just never expected to see you with bruises.”

  “I know. I said I was sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry, Ar. I’ve done the biting thing with girls, so I get it, okay? I really do. And I’ll let it go. Just, please don’t let him do it to you again. Promise?”

  I nodded, crossing my fingers behind my back. I wondered then if explaining to Mike
that David’s actually a vampire might ease his disdain for the whole biting situation, since it could’ve been worse.

  When Mike laughed, I thought he’d read my mind, but he simply shook his head and said, “It’s really damn good to see you, kid.”

  “Yeah. It’s kinda weird. I feel like I’m imagining this.”

  Mike reached across and pinched me. “Feels pretty real to me.”

  “Ouch.” I rubbed my forearm. “That hurt, you know.”

  “At least I didn’t bite you,” he said with a grin.

  I smirked.

  “Shall we go home?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Mike bent and grabbed his suitcase, then shouldered his backpack swiftly, wrapped his arm around my neck, and we wandered slowly out to the parking bay where I left Dad.

  “Mr. Thompson. Good to see you again.” Mike shook Dad’s hand firmly.

  “Yes, yes, it’s good to have you here.” Dad cupped his other hand over Mike’s in the ‘double’ handshake. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you these past few months.”

  “Really?” Mike asked in a leading tone. “Ara talks about me?”

  “Yes.” Dad grinned. “I started to wonder if you were my daughter’s only friend.”

  “Ha!” Mike looked at me with that cheeky, cocky grin. “I am.”

  “Are not.” I punched him in the arm.

  He leaned away, rubbing off my pathetic effort at violence.

  * * *

  The warm smell of bacon and toast wafted into the entranceway, with the sweet aroma of sugared coffee lingering in a pleasant layer over the top. I stepped in and closed the door, smiling at Sam as he ran upstairs carrying—or dragging—Mike’s suitcase.

  “Sure you don’t want me to take that, Sam?” Mike asked.

  “He’s got it,” Dad said, leading Mike into the dining area. “I think I smell breakfast.”

  “I think I smell Heaven,” Mike added.

  I rolled my eyes and pushed past him and Dad to sit at the table. Mike was such a suck-up. He knew exactly how to get into the oldies’ good books, and he was holding no bars back. It was also one of the things I really loved about him.

  “Mike, good to finally meet you.” Vicki left her practically permanent kitchen position to hug him. “How have you been?”

  “Good, Vicki. Really good,” Mike said softly. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice.”

  Great, so Vicki had been talking to him on the phone too. Just bury me now.

  Vicki smiled. “I’ve made you some breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry after all that travelling.”

  “Yeah, great,” Mike said and sat at the table next to me. “The airport food was pretty average.”

  “So, Ara tells us you’ve been accepted into the ah… what was that called again?” Vicki asked, fussing over the plates.

  “Vicki,” I moaned. “Dad already interrogated him on the drive home. Do you have to do it too?”

  “I don’t mind an interrogation, Ara.” Mike elbowed me gently. “It’s uh—it’s called the Tactical Response Group. We get to use cool guns, basically.” He grinned at Sam as he sat down.

  “Do you get to shoot people?” Sam asked, leaning right across the table to be in Mike’s bubble.

  “Well,” Mike’s voice softened, “the only place I like to shoot people is in the digital world. Other than that, we try to avoid it as much as possible. But I have a taser?” he offered.

  “Awesome. Hey, do you play online—” Sam’s voice became background noise while the boys talked video games and Vicki served breakfast around all the commotion, sitting quietly down after. Without touching my food, I leaned on my hand and listened to the sound of normal; how the laughter, forks clinking on plates, and cups resting with a clunk on wood could echo familiarity and contentment. Once upon a time, being normal meant having a life with two parents, no grief, and no scars. Now, normal meant I could sit in my kitchen, eat food with my family, and at the end of my life, die.

  A few months ago, I didn’t know how much I had to be grateful for, but the hourglass of Fate could rock and tip everything out of balance at any time—take the people you love and leave you with nothing but a broken heart. So I knew now that I had to take each breath with a kind of appreciation I never understood before, because imagining my life with David’s interpretation of eternity—imagining it without any of this—I would miss it all terribly. I’d even miss Vicki.

  “Well, Vicki,”—Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin and rested his arm on the table—“that was the most amazing breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Ara’s right, you are a good cook.”

  “Ara said that?” Vicki’s wide eyes landed on me. I wanted to brush them off. “Well, thank you, Ara, and thank you, Mike. I really enjoy cooking, especially for people who eat it without salt.” She glared at Dad.

  “What?” Dad shrugged, holding his hands out.

  Mike laughed and placed his napkin on the table. “Well, my mother raised me with the strong belief that it’s considered an insult to the chef when one puts salt on his food.”

  Vicki’s smile pushed her brows up. “See, Greg? You could stand to learn a few table manners yourself.”

  Sam laughed.

  “Hm. Ara?” Dad cleared his throat, ignoring Vicki and Sam. “Why don’t you give Mike the grand tour?”

  “I’m sure he’s seen a house before, Dad.”

  “Not yours, though,” Mike said, encouraging my new role as Tour Guide.

  “Okay. Come on.” I stood up, but when I reached for his hand he quickly drew it away. Even Dad and Vicki saw it, disguising their shock with a swift glance at their plates, while I ate the swell of mortification.

  “Thanks again, Vicki.” Mike grabbed his plate and mine.

  “You’re welcome, Mike.”

  He dumped the plates in the sink as we passed the kitchen and headed through the arch to the forbidden formal room.

  “So, this is the dining room…” I explained.

  “Two dining rooms?”

  “Yeah, for all those dinner guests Vicki entertains.” I laughed.

  “Right.” Mike nodded, crossing his arms. I don’t think he realized I was joking.

  “And out there is the backyard.” I pointed beyond the windows.

  “Is that the swing? Where you sit when you’re sad?”

  “No, it’s a slide.”

  “Ha-ha.” He flicked his hand out and knocked my ponytail.

  “Uh!” I held up a finger. “No mucking about in here. You’ll hit the chandelier.”

  Mike looked up. “Hm. Look at that. A real chandelier.”

  “It’s plastic,” I remarked and walked on, leading him to the room that met back up with the front entrance. “We watch TV in here.”

  Mike stood by the suede sofa and considered the giant LCD sitting neatly on the white cabinet. “No drinks in the lounge,” he read the ‘house rules’ painted on a wooden wall-plaque. “No name-calling. No…”

  “Okay.” I grabbed his shoulders and spun him toward the door. “We all know the rules.”

  “I don’t.” He tried to walk back to the TV room. “I wasn’t done.”

  “You can read them later. I wanna show you your room.”

  “Okay. But only because I stink.” He lifted his arm and sniffed his own odor. “I need a change of shirt.”

  “No kidding.” I pushed his arm down.

  “Now, Sam!” Dad’s voice echoed into the entrance.

  “Why does she get to stay home?” Sam said, and I imagined him pointing off in some random direction as if pointing at me: the ‘she’.

  “Because she has a friend who just arrived.”

  “There’s always some excuse. It’s like she never goes to school.”

  Mike rested his forearm on the balustrade, half laughing, and looked at me. “You never go to school, huh?”

  “Not a lot.” I toed the carpet at the base of the stair.

  “How’s it been”—he nodded to
ward the dining room—“having a little brother?”

  “Not much different to putting up with you.”

  He laughed and looked around, his eyes taking in the stairs, then the window above the front door, before landing back on me. “I like this. It’s a nice house. It’s good to see the places you’ve been talking about all your life.”

  “Well, later I’ll show you where I landed when I broke my arm that time.”

  “Sounds good.” He tugged on a strand of my hair, making me lower my foot from the first step to look up at him. “I really missed ya, Ara.”

  “I know.” My eyes moved slowly from his camel-skin boots, over the light denim jeans, and traced swerves along the ripples under his shirt, stopping in a hold on his warm eyes. The caramel brown had always reminded me of autumn—once my favorite season—but there would have to be a different comparison for his eyes now that my autumn would forever be a reminder of losing David. Maybe…

  “Ara?”

  “Hm?” His face blurred and sharpened into focus.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Um—”

  “Seriously? You heard nothing?” His voice cracked.

  “Um…” I flashed him a cheeky grin. “Sorry?”

  Mike’s shoulders dropped and he nodded to himself. “Come on, why don’t you just show me upstairs?”

  I knew he was upset that I’d zoned out. And I didn’t want him to be upset, so I tried to make light of it by saying, “Race you?”

  It worked. His mask cracked, bringing warmth back to his eyes. “Nah, forget that,” he said, taking a quick step toward me. “This is more fun.”

  “No!” I squealed, rapping my fists on his leg as he swept me up like a football under his arm, my legs kicking behind us, and bolted up the stairs. “Put me down!”

  “Make me.” He laughed, so I angled my head just so, and bit his thigh. “Ow!”

  A jolt went through me as I landed hard on my hands and knees.

  “I can’t believe you just bit me.”

  “I can’t believe you just dropped me.”

  “Sorry. Defensive reaction.” He rubbed his leg.

  I stood up, dusting myself off, and we both held eye contact for only a second before laughing.