Accidental Secrets: A totally gripping, steamy, sexy contemporary romance (Accidental Love Book 3)

by Dana Mason

  “Do you think I wasn’t gutted? Do you think that was easy for me?” Her voice cracks but she keeps going. “Jesus, I still have dreams about you. There’s so much you don’t know, but you must know that I never stopped loving you. Not one minute.” She lifts up, and a second later, I feel her heat against my back. She clings to me, her arms and legs around me, her scent surrounding me, throwing me back in time—back to a time I thought I had shit figured out. To a time when I had everything I wanted… until I didn’t. “Please turn around and face me. Hold me and have this conversation with me.”

  “I’m hurt, Rachel. I can’t pretend I’m not.”

  “If you’re still hurt, that means you also still have feelings for me.”

  I can’t answer.

  She hesitates for what feels like an eternity. Then her soft warm lips land on my shoulder and she says, “We have the same scars. We have the same hurt. I know you don’t want to believe that, but it’s true.” She hesitates, allowing the room to grow quiet, but I can hear her breathing and feel the rise and fall of her chest as she rests against me. “My mother threatened to tell everyone you sexually assaulted me if I told you I was leaving. She said she’d contact the police if I talked to you… she’d call the press and ruin your future if I told you where I was.”

  “That’s such bullshit. She couldn’t prove I assaulted you, not unless you agreed to lie. She manipulated you, Rachel.”

  “I know that, but she made a lot of threats.” Her arms tighten around me. “I was scared and backed into a corner. I had nowhere to go and no one to help me, not without hurting you.” I can hear the waver in her voice as if she’s trying not to cry and it makes me angrier.

  I finally twist out of her embrace and turn to face her. “Your mother couldn’t hurt me. Even if she made the accusation, she couldn’t prove it. I’d never be convicted.”

  “You’d never be convicted in a court of law, but in the press, she’d ruin you. What school would offer you a spot on their team—offer you a football scholarship—with those kind of rumors hanging over your head? Don’t forget my uncle is a reporter. She had the resources to hurt you if she wanted to.”

  Her eyes lower to her naked body and her cheeks pink in reaction, as if she’s just remembered that she’s naked. She stands and goes to grab a towel from the bathroom. I watch her, noting the changes to her body, things that weren’t there when we were together years ago. A few very faint stretchmark scars low on her abdomen—and what looks like a surgery scar.

  Rachel is so beautiful. Luscious in a way I don’t remember. She’s pinup-girl-hot with hips that want to be grabbed and breasts that bounce when she walks. Fuck, I want her again. Her raven hair swings as she wraps the towel around herself and her lips pout as she knots it together.

  She props herself on the bed again and says, “Believe it or not, I’d planned to contact you in the next couple of days. I looked you up last week, and I was pretty surprised to find you here in Sacramento.”

  “I tried searching for you a couple of times, even when I was on the East Coast for a while. Do you know how common a name Rachel Williams is?”

  “Yeah, about as common as Michael Murphy. You sort of disappeared after graduating U of O. You came up in a search this time because of the CrossFit gym you opened in town. But why the East Coast?”

  “After you disappeared, your mom told me you moved to Boston for a private boarding school. Of course, I had to pound on her door every day for weeks before she even told me that much.” I shift so we’re facing each other. “I guess you were never in Boston.”

  “I’ve never been there.” She reaches out and lays her hand over mine. “Can you tell me why you’re not still playing football?”

  “I got hurt. Broken leg and a nasty concussion.” I shrug because it’s not really the reason I’m not playing, it’s just the reason I decided I didn’t want to play. “I don’t want to be one of those washed-up players who spend their later years in pain. That concussion affected me for a long time. After that, I decided it wasn’t worth it. I loved the game, but I didn’t really care about the fame and the money. I’d rather be healthy than rich.”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Her brows draw together, and for a moment, I almost believe her.

  “I don’t understand. You promised to follow me anywhere.”

  “I know I did. When I made that promise, I meant it. A football player or a personal trainer, I don’t care what you do, I just want you to be happy. I hope you know that.”

  I scoff at that. “Really? You want me to be happy?” I can’t help my sarcasm. “That’s interesting, considering how badly you hurt me. What happened, Rachel? Why would your mom go to such extremes—and why at that point?”

  She lowers her eyes again, and within seconds, tears are spilling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t hate me when I tell you, but I guess you couldn’t feel any worse about me than you already do.”

  “You owe me an explanation.” I stand to pace and unlike her, I don’t care if I’m naked. I just need to rid myself of the angry energy. “You’ll never understand what it feels like when someone you love disappears and you’re stuck wondering about them every day of your life.”

  I watch her for a long time: she’s crying and I’m so confused.

  “What happened, Rachel?”

  Her bright blue eyes lift to mine and they’re startling in color because of her crying. She gets to her feet and faces me, her head high and her shoulders back. “I got pregnant.” Her words are breathy and from the way she’s standing, it looks like she’s prepared to physically defend herself, and that throws me off. “My mother figured it out when my period was late. She forced me to leave town because I was pregnant, Michael.” Her watery eyes focus on mine and I clearly see the fear she’s hiding with her fighting stance.

  “What?” It’s as if my brain stutters. I stare at her, connecting the dots. Her stretch marks, the surgery scar. Impossible. I narrow my eyes at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I… we… have a daughter. She recently turned thirteen.”

  “That’s impossible.” I pace in a circle, not sure what to think—what to do. “That can’t be true. There’s no way you’d do that to me. Please, please tell me you didn’t do that.”

  But her expression tells me I’m wrong. She lifts her hands to her face, covering herself for a moment, then she mumbles, “I’m so sorry.”

  I walk out of the bedroom and snatch my clothes off the floor. It takes me seconds to get dressed, and then I’m pacing again. “You’re sorry! I can’t believe this.” My heart is racing so fast it hurts. I rub my chest while trying to take a deep breath.

  I have a child.

  “I know you’re hurt and disappointed in me, but—”

  “Disappointed in you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You have to understand how cruel my mom was when she found out. She tried to force me into getting an abortion. When I refused, she made other threats. She started calling her lawyers and talking about private adoption. I was scared and I had to protect you—I had to protect our baby.” Rachel approaches me, but I jerk away from her.

  I can’t believe it.

  “You’ve stolen from me, Rachel. Your mother has stolen a life from me.” This thought alone makes me rage. I lean down and get right in her face. “I had plans—plans I wanted to share with you. She stole that from me—you stole that from us when you disappeared.”

  “I know, babe. I—”

  “You took that away when you didn’t trust me enough to come to me.”

  “Come to you with what? Seriously, Mike, what could you and I have done alone? It’s not like your parents were any more understanding than mine were.”

  I stare at her, and I know she’s right. I can’t argue with her on that. Their behavior toward my sister and niece are proof of that. I point between us and say, “We—you and I—could have made it work.�
��

  “How? By ruining your prospects? All while trying to fight a custody battle against my parents?” She steps closer, one eyebrow raised. “I understand now. Now, at my age, I understand that she didn’t have any rights to my child—to my future with you and our baby—but back then, I didn’t understand that. I was scared she would take everything from us.”

  “Rachel, she did take everything from me!” I’m shouting, but I can’t help it. “Do you realize that in all your efforts to salvage things, in all your efforts to protect us, that I still lost everything?”

  “But you didn’t!” Her voice peaks and tears are streaming down her distraught face. It hurts to see her so upset, but I can’t think about that now. “You didn’t lose your dream of playing football.” She points to my chest and says, “That might not mean anything now, but back then, it was everything to you.”

  “No!” I grasp her arms and bring her closer. “You were everything to me. You, Rachel, not football.” I’m staring into her eyes as they plead for me to understand. Those astonishing blue eyes begging me to forgive her. After a moment she closes them and says, “I was scared she’d take my baby. I’m sorry.” She turns out of my arms and says, “I had to make a choice, and I chose our baby.”

  I scrub my hands across my face, not sure I understand. I take a deep breath and fight to calm my heart and my mind. “Are you telling me she actually forced you to choose?”

  She nods, causing a curtain of silky, dark hair to hang over her face, shielding her from me. Her shoulders are lifting and falling along with her sobbing and it’s killing me to watch her. When I can’t take it any longer, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her tightly. I hold her for a long time, breathing her in. She still smells exactly the same. All these years and she still smells like oranges.

  When her breathing settles, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  She takes one more deep breath and draws back from me. She grabs a tissue from the box on the table and brushes it across her face. “When her threats against me didn’t work, she threatened you, she threatened adoption, she… scared me. I didn’t know what else to do so I made a deal with her. I promised I wouldn’t contact you or tell anyone about my pregnancy if she left you alone and let me keep my baby. She agreed only if I agreed to leave town permanently.” Rachel lowers herself down onto the couch and says, “I wasn’t even allowed any time to think things through. She had me packed, and we were on an airplane within a couple of hours.” She lifts her hand and lets it fall to her lap, defeat clear in her eyes, and seeing it there causes a spike of pain in my stomach. I should have been there for her, but how could I when I didn’t know? She grows tearful again and says, “Mike, I was sixteen and pregnant and… and I had no one to confide in. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Jesus, even my dad wouldn’t stand up for me. He gave in to her every demand.”

  “I would have been there for you every step of the way, I’m sorry.” I try to breathe through the anxiety I feel at the thought of not having any control over my life, the thought of what it must have been like for Rachel. Only now, knowing I have a child out there who doesn’t know me, do I have some understanding of what that’s like. But I can’t tell her this… honestly, I don’t know what to say. As much as I hate what happened to her, I’m having a hard time getting past the fact that I’ve had a child all these years and I didn’t know it.

  “I can’t believe you did this. All these years, Rachel.”

  “I know… so much has happened… there’s so much I need to tell you.”

  I shake my head in pure irritation. I can’t do this with her now. I can’t even think straight, much less have a reasonable conversation with her. I need some space so I can calm the fuck down. “I don’t want to fight and scream at you. That’s not how I want to do this, okay? I need a few days to think. I need to find a way to wrap my brain around… everything so we can talk. Really talk, okay?”

  She nods, almost frantically. “Of course.” Then she gets up and walks over to grab her clothes from the floor. “I understand.” With her clothes wadded up in her hand, she grips the towel wrapped around her chest as if to hold it in place and, before I can say another word, she turns into the bathroom. I get a glimpse of her face as she quickly closes the door behind her. Her tears are streaming again, and she looks absolutely miserable.

  I wait for a few minutes, but when I realize she’s not coming out of the bathroom, I jot down my phone number so she can reach me, then I leave. I can’t stick around any longer. I’m starting to feel like a caged animal and I really don’t want to lose my shit in front of Rachel.

  I storm out of the suite, and exit the building, trying to calm my racing heart… and trying to digest this new reality. I have a daughter.

  This is real. There’s a real-life little person that I’m responsible for—that I should be responsible for. Fuck. I can’t even… I don’t know what to think about this. As I tug the driver’s side door open on my Tahoe, it hits me. Holy shit! I have a daughter… and she’s been emailing me.

  Eighteen

  Rachel

  I spend half an hour in the bathroom of the suite, licking my wounds and waiting for him to leave. I can’t hear anything outside, so I don’t know if he’s gone, but when I creep out, the room is empty. I quickly get my shoes on and reach for my purse, which is on the love seat… not where I left it near the door. Sitting on top of my purse is a quickly scribbled note on the hotel notepad.

  Rachel, if you need me, here’s my number. I didn’t get yours, but I hope it’s okay if I call the hotel when I want to talk to you. I apologize for my actions today. I didn’t intend on taking advantage of you during a vulnerable moment. I hope you know that.

  I groan as I read it. It’s just like him. He’s respectful almost to a fault. What a refreshing change from what I’m used to. And as if. As if he took advantage of me. Like I didn’t want that as much as he did. I grab my phone and enter his number. Then I shoot off a text.

  Me: This is Rachel, and now you have my number too. I hope you know that I’ve never once felt taken advantage of by you. Today included. I… ugh. I have so much to say, but mostly, I’m sorry.

  It takes him a few minutes to respond, but finally, the bubble pops up, and a moment later, a text appears.

  Michael: Thank you for telling me that. I will be in touch. Just give me a few days to clear my head. I want to speak openly without saying something I’ll regret, but it’s too hard when I’m angry.

  Me: I understand. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.

  I sigh in relief and wonder how the hell I’m going to face Raegan when I pick her up. She’s going to see it on my face as soon as I step inside the house. I take my purse into the bathroom and try to straighten my hair. When I realize it’s a complete loss, I wrangle it into a ponytail. Then I wash my face and try to reapply some makeup so I don’t look like the walking dead. There isn’t much I can do about my puffy red eyes, though.

  Once I’m finished, I stare at myself in the mirror, then plaster a smile on my face. Ugh. I look ridiculous trying to smile when I feel so utterly horrid. Crying has brightened my blue eyes, and they’re practically glowing against the redness. What can I do? Absolutely nothing, so I turn, and head home.

  On the road, I call Isla’s office to give her an update. She left a couple of messages while I was with Mike.

  “This is Isla, can I help you?”

  “Isla, it’s Rachel.”

  “Oh my God, thank you for calling. I’ve been worried about you. Did you make it home okay? How are you feeling?”

  “I actually just left the hotel. Mike was in the lobby waiting for me earlier. I took him to suite 108, so we could talk.”

  “Wow… how did that go?”

  I fight tears and try to find a way to tell her without losing it. “Um, well, let me start by saying I’d really appreciate it if you’d ask housekeeping to turnover suite 108.”

  She’s quiet for a moment then she says
, “That good, huh?”

  “Not entirely. It started out well, but then it went south. He didn’t take the news well. He’s angry and hurt and… he asked for some time to clear his head.”

  “I don’t think that’s unreasonable, do you?”

  “Not unreasonable. He was actually quite kind about it. He should hate me, and as rejected as I feel right now, I think he still cares about me.” I hold my breath for a moment then try to say, “Can you care about someone you hate?”

  “Rach, give him the time he asked for and give him a chance to accept the news. He’ll come around. Until then, what are you going to tell Raegan?”

  “I’m not telling her anything. Not until I hear back from him. I don’t want to get her hopes up. He could still reject her.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to. He seemed like a great guy. I mean, think about it, what kind of guy accompanies his female best friend to meet with the wedding coordinator?”

  “Um, a gay one…? But I know he’s not gay.”

  Isla laughs a little too hard at that, but I guess if I were in a better mood, I’d find it funny too.

  “Do you have time to chill before you pick up Raegan?”

  “A little bit, but I’m heading over there anyway. I just need to get my head together and keep moving forward. It’s what I’ve been doing since I found out I was pregnant with her.”

  “You’re strong. Remember that.”

  “Thank you, I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

  “I know.” She chuckles again and says, “I’ll have that suite cleaned. Call me if you need me.”

  I disconnect as I’m pulling into my uncle’s driveway, the same driveway that used to be my father’s. After my dad’s death, Uncle Mitch moved into the house at my mom’s request. He and Annie take care of the place, which is a relief for me because I’m not interested in living here.