Secrets That We Keep Page 13

By the time we joined the other ladies out in the front room, Bentley looked better, less withdrawn or quite so pale, and she smiled more, even joining a couple of conversations here and there. I caught her rubbing Skylar’s pregnant stomach once and laughing when she felt a kick.

  A pocket of warmth spread through my chest. I was so glad to be able to be there for her.

  But I also couldn’t wait to rub it in Fox’s face that my nosy meddling had actually worked out to his sister’s benefit.

  As soon as the last woman left, I shut the door and immediately sought my phone. It was well after midnight, but I texted him anyway.

  BELLA: You were right; Bentley had a miscarriage.

  I’m sure I’d woken him at this time of night, but he answered within the minute anyway.

  FOX: Jesus, Bells. What the hell did you do?

  Lifting my nose in extreme irritation, I answered.

  BELLA: Turns out, I don’t suck at fishing for information after all. I’m actually really awesome at it. And Bentley told me everything. It was an ectopic pregnancy, just like you guessed. She was about eight weeks along, and she miscarried last week, probably the night you watched Braiden for them.

  FOX: Shit. Is she okay?

  BELLA: She is now. We talked. I got her to cry, and laugh, and hug it out, mostly by making fun of her husband.

  FOX: Well, that’s not hard to do; Beau’s like a walking joke. But good job, babe. I’m glad you were there for her. And what about her, you know, health-wise?

  My eyebrows lifted as I read his second and third lines. Were my eyes deceiving me, or had Fox actually complimented me for sticking my nose where he hadn’t thought it belonged? Hmm, interesting. Biting my lip, I had to respond.

  BELLA: She said she was healing, but she moved awfully slow and I caught her wincing a few times. I think she’s still pretty sore, but I do believe she is probably getting better and will be okay soon. But let’s rewind a second there. Did you just tell me GOOD JOB? Even after I did exactly what you asked me not to???????

  When the dots appeared, telling me he was responding, I let out a sigh and traced my finger over the little warthog animoji I’d given him for a profile picture. Everyone always assigned him the fox animoji because that was his name, which meant I’d had to be different. I’d even changed his handle in my address book to Warthog. Every time he saw his warthog, he rolled his eyes and told me I was weird even as he snagged his arm around my waist and tugged me close to kiss me like crazy.

  So I guess he liked my brand of weird.

  When the dots disappeared as his response popped up, my heart gave a little added thump of excitement. Not sure why merely texting him gave me such a thrill. But it had been doing that a lot lately.

  It was…odd.

  FOX: Yes, I’m complimenting you. You made my sister smile after she’d just been through hell. I owe you big-time for that. But don’t get used to it. I’m sure you’ll do something to annoy me again soon enough.

  I snorted, knowing he was just teasing to rile me. Rising to the bait, I shot back a single word.

  BELLA: Asshole.

  FOX: And there it is. Is it too late to retract my compliment?

  BELLA: Yep. I have it in writing; you can never take it back now.

  FOX: Damn.

  A moment of radio silence passed between us. I knew it was my turn to banter something—probably snarky—back to him, but I didn’t feel like being playfully mean anymore. An ache had started in the center of my chest. I no longer wanted him to be just words on a screen. I wanted him here, warm and alive next to me, where I could press my nose into his shirt and smell my Fox in person, or I could touch his unshaven jaw and run my fingers over his scruff.

  I’d been with him just last night, yet I missed him.

  Before I could stop myself, I wrote something I immediately regretted.

  BELLA: So are you coming over tomorrow night?

  I always felt weak and needy and pathetic when I asked about seeing him again, so I usually left that specific topic up to him to cover. Except I found myself asking it more and more lately.

  Too often.

  I’m not sure what was wrong with me. I didn’t want anything between us to get too dangerous. I didn’t want either of us sucked into some kind of serious deal, full of strings and emotions and trust and responsibility. He’d been trying to escape that when we had first hooked up.

  What we had going right now was perfect. Dipping into anything deeper would only end in disaster. I’d tried that before; it had sucked. So I knew better this time around. I wasn’t going to ruin anything with Fox by giving him too much of myself and overwhelming him with the disaster that was me. He’d start to need breathing room, just like Ethan had, and then he’d run off and have sex with someone else.

  I wouldn’t be able to handle that, ergo I refused to get clingy.

  Feeling antsy and worried as I watched the dots appear on my screen, I chewed on my bottom lip and ignored the gnawing unease in my stomach as I prayed he didn’t respond with something about needing more space or accuse me of smothering him. Those were two big signs I’d missed last time, and I wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

  Fox’s answer appeared.

  FOX: Or I could come over now.

  I released a relieved breath. Oh God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He’d given me the perfect answer.

  I immediately wanted to tell him, yes, get your sexy ass over here NOW. I was craving him hard.

  But I knew better. Maybe he didn’t even realize it himself, but he needed some kind of space. I had to keep him wanting more. Otherwise, he’d get bored, find someone else, and leave.

  I couldn’t give in to my yearnings; it’d only push him away in the end.

  So I swallowed my instinctive response and gave him the smart answer. The logical answer.

  BELLA: It’s already after midnight. I’d probably be asleep by the time you made it here, anyway.

  FOX: Then I’ll just spoon up behind you and we can cuddle all night so we can wake up together for some morning nookie.

  Damn, that sounded nice. Despite how muscled and hard he was, Fox really was the best at cuddling. But I stayed strong. I resisted.

  BELLA: Tomorrow night.

  I could practically hear him sigh out his regret.

  FOX: Fine. Be a spoilsport. I’ll see you tomorrow. Until then, goodnight, beautiful.

  There. I still had him on the line. I wasn’t smothering him but leaving him with something promising to look forward to.

  Wanting to sweeten the pot even more, I responded with my own goodnight, including a quick selfie of me in my camisole and underwear. He called me a tease for it and accused me of trying to kill him, but I could tell he liked the shot, and I just knew we both went to sleep grinning, equally anxious for the day to come.

  Chapter Nine

  Gracen

  SEVEN HOURS LATER

  Just as it had two weeks before, guilt prompted me to visit Bella the morning after watching another movie with Yellow.

  And going to bed thinking about Yellow.

  Then waking up still thinking about Yellow.

  Something was obviously wrong with me. Such minor encounters with one woman should not consume so many of my thoughts. But whenever I found myself in the same room as her, she seemed to be the only thing I could concentrate on, and I always went away embroiled in daydreams of seeing her again, even as I told myself what an idiot I’d been for spending any time with her in the first place.

  Yellow might’ve said we hadn’t done anything wrong or inappropriate, but oh, we had. About fifty different times, twenty different ways, and all in my head.

  Mentally, I had betrayed my sister plenty.

  Sighing, I let myself in through the front door with my key. Bella was probably still asleep; the place was as quiet as a tomb. After shutting the door behind me, I flipped on the light to the living room and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Oh wow.

  I’d
completely forgotten Bella had hosted a ladies’ night the evening before.

  Setting my hands on my hips, I shook my head and sighed. The sad part was I knew that every woman present last night had probably offered to help with cleanup, too. But Bella had waved them all away with a, “No, no. I’ve got this.”

  Except, she never had it.

  She usually got about half an hour into pickup before calling me and begging for help. In return, I made it worth my while, ensuring she paid me back big before I even thought of agreeing to come over and pitch in. But this time, I didn’t even wait for the begging to begin. I just got to work.

  Guilt was a lousy bastard. It made a man do all sorts of things he’d never typically do. Like clean his sister’s house.

  By the time Bella stumbled into the kitchen, I’d already finished in the front room and was clearing wine remains from the kitchen island with a disinfectant wipe. Pausing in the entrance, she dropped her hand from her eyes she’d been rubbing and gave me a frown.

  Lifting my brows, I held up two empty bottles. “Looks like ladies’ night was a success.”

  Sending me a half whine, half grunt, she shuffled the rest of the way inside and slumped into a chair at the table. Her bathrobe hung open, revealing the baggy shirt and shorts she’d slept in, and the ratted mess that was her hair stuck out as if it’d just been possessed by the eighties.

  “Oomph,” she mumbled, adding something I couldn’t even begin to understand as her forehead thumped miserably against the tabletop.

  “Hmm? What was that?” I asked, making her jump and wince when I tossed the bottles in her trash. The clanging crash that followed was more than her sensitive ears could handle.

  She looked up and glared my way. “I said, why are you here so early?”

  Guilt was the immediate answer that came to mind. I’d sat by Yellow last night, enjoyed a movie with her, let her hug me, and I’d craved her like I hadn’t craved a woman in quite a while. Maybe ever.

  “I figured you’d need help with the mess,” I answered, dusting my hands off on my thighs. “Want some breakfast?”

  Suspicion entered her gaze, but she said, “Sure.” Only to pause and lift a staying hand. “Wait. What do you want in return this time?”

  I shrugged, making myself busy by opening her fridge and searching for ingredients. “We’ll just call this one an I-owe-you. Would you prefer bacon and eggs, pancakes, waffles, or biscuits and gravy?”

  Her brow furrowed, and I knew I’d gone too far. But I couldn’t seem to help it. I had to remind myself that she was still my number one person on the planet.

  A vision entered my head of all the times she’d had swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks after her breakup. I’d honestly never seen her so wrecked. And it had taken her forever to move on. I wasn’t even sure she was completely over it yet, to be honest.

  Yellow had been a part of that misery. She’d helped shatter my sister in a way I never thought she could shatter. Bella had always been so strong-willed. But that whole thing had knocked her clean off her feet.

  Acid filled my stomach. I never should’ve let Yellow’s pretty face and air of sweet innocence get to me. Even Bella had talked about how fooled she’d been by Yellow’s act. I knew better.

  That’s it. From here on out, I was going to stop thinking good things about Yellow.

  Like how nice her smile looked. Or fun her sense of humor was. Or great her taste in movies ranked. Or refreshing just being around her felt.

  From this moment on, I was officially out. Done. Finished.

  On Bella’s table, her phone dinged with an incoming message. We both leaned forward to read.

  WARTHOG: Good morning.

  WARTHOG: Just think. Right now, we could be having morn—

  The phone was yanked away from the top of the table before I could read more. Lifting my eyebrows, I looked up at Bella who was clutching the device to her chest.

  What the hell?

  “Who’s the Warthog?” I asked.

  She scowled at me. “No one.”

  “Hmm,” I said, not pressing, but still supremely curious. “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t.”

  Okay, then. Wow.

  She looked panicked. She definitely didn’t want me to know who was texting her. And so, warning bells went off in my head. But I didn’t press. I’d have to reveal my own secrets if I pushed her to reveal hers. Besides, she’d tell me when she needed to. I wasn’t too worried about it. Her eyes weren’t swollen and her cheeks weren’t flushed.

  Well, not from crying anyway.

  She was fine.

  I turned away, ignoring the nip in my stomach that was trying to tell me that her unwillingness to share kind of actually stung. “Made up your mind about breakfast?”

  She decided on waffles.

  As she sat there, sneaking messages to someone on her phone when she thought I didn’t notice, I cooked and asked about ladies’ night.

  Her eyes widened as if she had big news but couldn’t tell me, except then she did tell me about Lucy Olivia and her deceased baby daddy.

  “Holy shit,” I murmured, setting a platter of waffles between us and taking a seat across from her. “I can’t believe she actually slept with the guy just because he was dying.”

  “I know, right?” Bella piled her plate and began to butter her waffles. “But seriously, what would you have done in her situation?”

  I thought about it a moment, then broke out in a grin. “Probably slept with the poor, dying girl.”

  “Exactly.” She aimed her knife at me with a wink and then set it down so she could cover her waffles with syrup. “You know, you and Luce are a lot alike in that way. Bleeding-heart softies. In fact…” Dropping the syrup bottle with a thump, she leaned across the table toward me, her eyes brightening as they did whenever she had a crazy idea. “I can’t think of anyone better to help her raise that baby.”

  I paused with a forkful of waffles halfway to my open mouth. “Huh?”

  She nodded encouragingly. “You’d be a great dad.”

  With a snort, I shook my head. “Oh, I know you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

  “What? It’s the best idea ever. You and Lucy Olivia together would be so—”

  “Uh, no!” I cut in. “We would not. Luce is like a sister to me. Damn, Bella, that is so wrong.”

  “But is it?” she countered. “Things might just surprise you if you gave them a chance. Just because we grew up with her our entire life doesn’t mean you couldn’t possibly form other kinds of feelings. Look at Teagan and JB. Or Beau and Bentley. They—”

  “Are weird,” I finished abruptly, holding up a hand. “What the hell is wrong with you? I love Lucy Olivia, sure. You know that. She’s family, and I’ll be there to help her through anything she needs with this baby. Just like everyone else will. But I’m not marrying her and becoming some stand-in father to her kid. Jesus. That’d be like me suggesting you hook up with Luke or Trick or—or Fox.”

  Her face paled, and for a moment, I thought she was going to burst into tears.

  I had no idea what that was about, and I started to ask.

  But then she said, “Fine. Whatever.” And she stabbed at her waffle, muttering, “Far be it for me to even suggest the idea. I mean, Lucy Olivia could be your soul mate for all we know, but you won’t even consider the idea because she was raised like family. Stubborn, irritating man.”

  I blinked at her as she ranted on, and I knew whatever she was saying had nothing to do with me and Lucy Olivia. She only went off like that when something was personally bothering her in her own life.

  I didn’t know what her personal problem was, though. And it was beginning to concern me.

  I was still worrying about my sister’s strangeness a week later at work. I’d just texted her, asking if she wanted to hang out that night. But she had turned me down.

  Without telling me why.

  It
was like she already had plans, which meant she was definitely hiding something, and I was almost positive it was a new man in her life. Except why the hell would she hide a relationship from me?

  I didn’t have some big nemesis like she did. I honestly didn’t care who she dated as long as the guy treated her right.

  Unless, the asshole wasn’t treating her right, and that really made me wonder who the hell this warthog person was.

  Shit, Bella, I wanted to demand. What have you gotten yourself into?

  Chewing on the end of a pen, I squinted at the numbers running across the screen of my computer as my personal assistant exploded through the open doorway of my office.

  “Draper’s hiring a new girl,” he announced in a rush.

  I looked up from my computer screen to find Price clapping his hands silently together and then keeping them close to his chest as he hopped up and down.

  Motioning a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of my associate Art Draper’s office on the other side of the building, he added, “She’s in there interviewing right now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Rolling my eyes, I went back to work. It wasn’t exactly news that Art was seeking a new assistant. After his wife had caught his last aide going down on him under his desk three weeks before, he’d been on the lookout for new help.

  “Let me guess.” I entered the last bit of data to my spreadsheet and clicked on the save button before returning my attention to my own aide. “She’s blond, in her early to mid-twenties, with big boobs, a small waist, and legs that won’t stop?”

  Price rolled his eyes. “Of course. Well, the boobs don’t look all that enhanced, but damn, her ass is fine. Even I looked twice. You could bounce a quarter off that kabooty. That girl does some serious yoga, let me tell you.”