Secrets That We Keep

by Linda Kage

  His mouth fell open as an immensely shattered expression crossed his features. “Are you serious?” he asked quietly. “I’m fucked either way?”

  “Sorry,” I said without a hint of apology. “But yeah, I’d say so.”

  “Well, shit.” He ripped off his hat and ran a hand over his head. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to be fucked. I don’t want to lose you. I like you. You’re one of the cooler chicks in the group. Who the hell am I supposed to steal push pops from if shit gets awkward between us?”

  “Let me ask you this…” I said, sniffing away the last of my almost-tears. “Would you still be turning me down right now if I didn’t have any alcohol in me?”

  “I…” He blew out a long breath, stumped by the question, and then he slowly shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. But probably...not.”

  While he winced as if afraid he’d answered wrong, I breathed out a relieved breath. “Really?” That must mean he was at least in some way attracted to me.

  Good. I could work with that.

  He shrugged, blushing slightly. “I mean, yeah. Just because we’ve never explored that path before doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered what it’d be like with you. Because I have. More than once. But—”

  I set a finger against his lips, having heard enough. “Then you shouldn’t turn me down now.”

  “Bells,” he rasped, removing my finger from his lips and squeezing my whole hand. His eyes searched mine desperately. “You have no idea what you’re saying. If we do this, it changes everything. Like every-fucking-thing. You get that, right?”

  I opened my mouth, not even sure how I was going to answer—probably by blowing off his concerns—but he shook his head, knowing me too well. “No, this is a huge deal. We could never do some one-night stand or casual, on-and-off hooking up. Not with how close our families are. It would have to be pretty damn permanent, right from the get-go. And sorry, but you’re not capable of making that kind of decision right now. Hell…” He let go of me to grip the bill of his hat with both hands and search my eyes. “I’m not in a stable enough position to make that kind of decision sober. So we can’t…” He dropped his arms heavily at his sides and stepped back, putting space between us. Space that hurt. “We just can’t. Okay?”

  Realizing he was right—we couldn’t treat anything between us carelessly or hastily—I nodded and hugged myself, feeling suddenly gross for even having brought it up.

  “Okay,” I whispered. Against my will, my chin wobbled, and a sob tore up my throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “What? No.” Stepping toward me, he took me in his arms and hugged me. “Damn it, don’t do that, Bells. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s…” I hiccupped and grabbed the material of his shirt tight as I hid my face in his chest. “It’s not your fault. You’re being all awesome and honorable and sweet, trying to do the right thing. And I’m…” Sniffing as more tears fell, I bowed my face in shame and squeezed my eyes tight. I might not be too drunk to decide if I wanted sex or not, but I was too drunk to keep my emotions in check, it seemed.

  “I’ve been a mess since ending my engagement. Because of what it all did to me inside my head. I never knew I was the kind of person who could be so easily deceived. I’m not the shrewd, insightful badass that can spot a liar and a cheater right off the bat, like I always thought I would be. I’m just a gullible idiot. And I—I just don’t know. I’m just sorry I messed everything up between you and me, too. I—”

  “No, no,” he insisted. “You’re not an idiot at all. And there’s absolutely no way you could mess anything up between us. Not because of one drunk night.” Pulling back so he could see my face, he set a finger under my chin and urged me to look up at him. When I refused to open my eyes, he kissed my forehead gently. “Listen to me. Tonight will in no way affect the way I feel about you. Hell, if anything, I’ll probably like you even more now.”

  Startled to hear that, I opened my eyes. “Really?”

  People usually left when they got too close and learned how pathetic I actually was.

  But he looked as serious as a heart attack. I hadn’t scared him off at all.

  “Really,” he confirmed with one solemn word. “Because to me, you are still that shrewd, insightful badass. But seeing you question and doubt it right now gives you a human element that’s actually kind of approachable. And sweet.”

  Hope sparked in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe people could love me just the way I was.

  I met his gaze, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Damn,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking beautiful and tragic-looking when you’re sad like this. I swear, no one cries as perfectly as you do.”

  I smiled through my tears and set my palm against his warm cheek. “Thank you.” When he closed his eyes and shuddered under my touch, I murmured his name and pressed my forehead to his.

  He blew out a breath before cupping my cheek in return. His hand was large and warm and male, and when his thumb idly stroked my jaw, wiping at a single tear, I sighed, relaxing deeper against him.

  In return, he tensed. His fingers shifted to drag with intoxicating slowness into my hair. Tipping my face closer, I shivered with delight when his breath washed across my lips.

  I lifted my gaze to his.

  He studied my eyes for a moment before hissing, “Shit, shit, shit.” Temptation swirled in his expression even as he added, “Maybe just one kiss.”

  “Yes.” I nodded stupidly and strained toward him. He puffed out a single breath and set his lips to mine.

  It was so soft, merely a dusting of warmth against warmth. Then a hungry groan reverberated through his throat, and he moved his mouth experimentally, as if testing to see how I would react.

  I mimicked his actions, opening slowly when he did. The moment his tongue touched mine, however, lightning shot through my veins. I jerked in surprise, and he captured my face in his hands as if to steady me.

  I gripped his wrists and slanted my mouth to the side, gaining more access, more heat.

  He stepped closer.

  I stepped closer.

  Our fronts brushed accidentally and then on purpose, until we were pressing together as tightly as we could. His hands wandered down my face as his lips continued to move against mine. His hat fell off, or maybe I knocked it off so I could bury my fingers in his thick, soft hair.

  When his hips ground close, I felt his erection, hard and ready, against my stomach. I wanted it inside me. And I didn’t mean to, but I ground against him, riding the hardness and imagining it pulsing and hot and deep, moving and stretching things inside that suddenly felt too tight and swollen and achy to ignore.

  “Jesus.” He jerked, pulling away and gasping as he shook his head.

  I felt too drugged into the moment to reply. So I merely watched him from blurry vision.

  He made a production of wiping his mouth, then scrubbing his hands over his head and blowing out a long breath.

  Then, without a word, he took off, stalking down the hall away from me.

  I slumped into the wall, breathing hard, wanting to call him back or chase after him or do something to draw him back into my arms, but I knew that wouldn’t be smart. So I hugged myself and dropped my gaze, only to spot his hat on the floor.

  He never went anywhere without his hat, so I rushed to snag it from the carpet, calling his name. “Fox! Your hat.”

  He’d made it to the door and yanked it open by the time I blew into the front room. But at the mention of his hat, he paused and bowed his head as if debating what to do. Then he glanced at me where I cowered in the opening to the hall, hugging the hat to my chest.

  “Son of a bitch,” he murmured to himself before he shut the door and turned to me fully.

  Like a splash of cold water to the face, I realized what I’d just done. “Sorry,” I said, my face flushed and breathing ragged. “Sorry. I…” Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. “Sorry. You can go.
Really.”

  But he wasn’t going anywhere, and we both knew it.

  When Fox didn’t answer, I opened my eyes to check on him. He simply stood at the closed door, his hand still on the knob, watching me. We shared a long look before he dropped his hand, licked his tongue over his bottom lip, and started toward me.

  “It’s fine,” he assured in a low voice. “It’s going to be just fine.”

  Reaching out, he took his hat from my hand. He glanced down at it for a moment, then he ran his thumb over the frayed bill before he looked up at me and blindly tossed his hat onto the coffee table behind him.

  “It’ll be better than fine,” he swore.

  And my panties became soaking wet.

  His nostrils flared as if he could smell the pungent moisture, and his gaze went heavy-lidded.

  God, I think he could make a girl come just by looking at her.

  “So here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, gently taking my hand. “I’m going to walk you to your bedroom, strip all your clothes off you, and fuck you for the rest of the night. And then, in the morning…” His eyebrows lifted meaningfully. “You’re not going to regret a single thing we did together.” Squeezing my fingers, he asked, “You good with that?”

  Holy Shit.

  “Yes,” I answered, pretty sure I was already halfway through my first orgasm. “I’m good with that.”

  Fox nodded. “Perfect. Then follow me.”

  And I did.

  Chapter Two

  Gracen

  EIGHT MONTHS LATER

  I arrived early to get the best spot in the theater: second to last row, aisle seat so I could sit as close to the center of the room as I could get. Hell yeah. And the place wasn’t filling up that fast either, which meant I’d probably have the whole row to myself with plenty of room to spread out, put my drink in the holder on one side and my popcorn in the holder on the other.

  If the night went well and no one sat in front of me, maybe I could even kick my feet up on that seat and really relax.

  This was the life, man, I’m telling you.

  Now if only I had a bit of company to enjoy it with.

  Artfully arranging the boxes of candy I’d just purchased across my chest, I dug my phone from my pocket and clicked off a grinning selfie before sending it to Bella.

  GRACEN: You sure you don’t want to join me? I got the works -- popcorn, cherry slushy, AirHeads, Reese’s Pieces, Red Hots, AND Junior Mints.

  If the appeal of spending time with her favorite twin didn’t win her over, then maybe my Junior Mints might.

  But the aggravating woman wasn’t swayed.

  BELLA: Not tonight, bubs. Just wanna stay in.

  Stay in? On a Friday night after the stressful week at work I knew she’d had, meeting a big deadline?

  Who the hell was I talking to?

  I called bullshit. I could spot her lies as soon as she spewed them, even via a text. I had shared a womb with her, for God’s sake, and then spent my entire life as her other half, being her first choice in confidants since we’d learned secrets were a thing. I knew Bella. And she was lying right now.

  Honestly, she’d been hiding something from me a lot lately.

  I hadn’t figured out what the big mystery was yet. But I wasn’t too worried either. She’d open up eventually. She always did. We never kept anything from each other for long.

  Tonight, however, secrets or no secrets, I really needed her company. I hated going to the movies by myself. It always made me feel—what was that awful, pathetic word I loathed using?

  Right.

  Lonely.

  I hated feeling lonely. But no one in our big conglomerate of an extended family had the same cinematic taste I did. I mean, it was their loss; I had an awesome palate for movies. But just because they all had boring, bland appetites didn’t make me any less forlorn when the beginning credits rolled.

  Bella empathized, however, so she typically sucked it up and went along with me, which was exactly why I started to feed her a massive guilt trip now, trying to get her to change her mind and get her ass down here already to keep me company.

  Wasn’t like she had a boyfriend or anything to occupy her time. She could certainly spare a moment for her favorite person ever.

  GRACEN: But I’m all alone. You’re not seriously going to make your only twin brother…

  I never finished typing.

  Someone passed by me in the center aisle right next to where I was sitting. Flowery perfume wafted over me, and the smell was pleasant.

  So, of course, I had to glance up.

  Whoever she was, she was alone too, and she looked good from the back. Real good. Light hair pulled into a high, sloppy ponytail with windblown tendrils falling fashionably down her neck, she walked with a hypnotic sway that caused me to focus on her ass a little too intently in those denim jeans.

  One of my eyebrows lifted with interest. Nice.

  She wasn’t carrying a drink or any treats, just a purse slung over one shoulder, which made me think she couldn’t be by herself—her companion was probably already seated or trailing behind to get their snacks, because who could watch a movie without sustenance? But she wasn’t glancing around as if looking for anyone or plotting a good spot for multiple people to sit; she walked with purpose, knowing exactly where she wanted to go.

  Like me, she had her favorite seat in the house.

  Respect.

  Made me wonder if she was also like me in that she hadn’t been able to find anyone else to accompany her to the movies, or if she was just the confident type who felt comfortable about going it alone. I decided to peg her as the confident type because I liked that version better.

  When she reached her row of choice—way too far down and close to the screen for my taste, but whatever—she turned and shuffled in to reach her desired place.

  Something familiar about her side profile caused my brows to furrow, though.

  I think I knew her—maybe—but I wasn’t sure, until someone from the other side of the aisles and further up whistled, calling, “Hey, baby. You don’t need to sit all alone down there. Why don’t you come plant that fine ass next to me?”

  I winced because, seriously? Plant that fine ass? What kind of douche actually said shit like that out loud?

  It was one thing to check the ass out silently and appreciate it in your own mind. It was quite another to share such thoughts with the actual masterpiece you were admiring. Sharing your thoughts took a suave talent only a few could muster in this type of situation, which he did not have.

  Fine-Ass glanced at her caller, and that’s when I got the full impact of her face.

  And ah, shit. What the hell?!

  I’d just checked out Yellow Nicksen’s ass? Not cool.

  The very opposite of cool, in fact.

  Bella would skin me alive if she knew what I’d just done.

  And speaking of Bella…

  Worried she might change her mind and hurry down here to watch the movie with me after all, I glanced at the screen of my phone and quickly deleted my message, before retyping a new one.

  GRACEN: No worries. Take care. Call you in the morning.

  Send.

  Nothing would ruin Bella’s night more than finding herself stuck in the same room as the very woman who’d slept with her fiancé last year, causing them to break up.

  I glanced toward Yellow again, narrowing my eyes and searching for something to dislike this time so I could jostle myself back into the appropriate frame of mind when looking upon my sister’s nemesis.

  When I couldn’t find any immediate visual flaws to pick on because—damn—Yellow Nicksen had some definite aesthetic appeal, I went shallow and mentally flayed her name.

  I mean, sure, it was unique, and I liked unique. But, seriously, Yellow? I wondered how she’d come up with such a nickname. Maybe she’d wet her bed a lot when she was little. Or she still did. Yeah. I liked that scenario for someone who’d wronged my twin.

&n
bsp; That was about as far as I got on the nitpicking, though, because I grew distracted by watching her all over again.

  It really was too bad that she had such a pretty face; that was probably how she’d lured Ethan into straying away from Bella in the first place. Even the way she uneasily winced at the guy who’d just invited her to sit by him was adorable. She had a cute, button nose that wrinkled like an irritated bunny, full, luscious lips that puckered with delectable distaste and dark, exotic eyes that—

  Not that her appearance meant a damn thing. Loyalty demanded I hate her. She’d hurt my best friend. Only someone who was straight-up malicious and evil could do such an unspeakably awful thing.

  Sniffing bitterly, I watched her answer the guy.

  “N-no thanks. I, uh, I’m waiting on someone.”

  As she nervously sank into her seat, I sighed in disgust and shook my head. She lied about as poorly as Bella did. Yellow wasn’t waiting on anyone, and her new admirer knew it, too.

  “Waiting on me, I bet.” Smirking, he pushed up from his chair and strutted her way.

  Ah, hell. You had to be kidding me right now. I wasn’t here to watch this shit; I just wanted to see my movie and go home, damn it.

  But it was happening whether I liked it or not.

  Maybe I should warn lousy-with-the-pickups guy not to bother. He was just going to get himself mixed up with a cheating homewrecker if he went anywhere near that poisonous female. But something about his cocky swagger turned me off, so I figured I’d just let him learn the hard way what a mistake he was making.

  Mr. Not-So-Suave moseyed right up to Yellow and leaned in over her, setting his hands on the backs of the seats both behind and in front of her so he could trap her in the row, which was totally uncool on his part.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked. “I don’t bite. Come on over and sit by me.”

  I rolled my eyes because, wow. Lamest ice breaker ever. I’d lose all respect for Yellow if she actually fell victim to that. Except, wait, I already had no respect for her, didn’t I? So yep, she was probably going to pop right up and follow him like the unfaithful leech she was.