Secrets That We Keep Page 35

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Gray grumbled, looking a little regretful as he watched Mom bounce her granddaughter gently. “You win. This time.”

  And that’s how Fox finally got Gracen back for tricking him at our proposals.

  The End

  Big hugs to all the sexual harassment and assault survivors out there. It’s so painful and enraging and unfair when things happen to us that are out of our control. But we do have control over how we react to them. That is where our power lies. I hope you are never pressured, shamed, or guilted into responding in any specific way that you don’t want to respond when dealing with your trauma, be it to forgive, forget, and quietly move on or to stand up and shout for justice. I don’t want you to be stuck as a victim. This is your moment now. So I want you to be able to use the power of your reaction to do what is best for YOU to heal and maybe even come out of this stronger than you were before. You don’t ever have to go through it alone, either. If you need help, want help, and are ready for help, please call 800-656-HOPE to contact the America’s National Sexual Assault Hotline for assistance. Wishing you the absolute best, Linda Kay

  Meanwhile, here’s a glimpse at a couple more descendants from the Forbidden Men clan.

  Beware of Maverick

  How Cress met Maverick

  2 Months Before Gracen Runs into Yellow at the Theater

  Chapter One

  Cress

  Woe.

  That was such a strange word, wasn’t it? It was just so sad and depressing, and blah.

  But woe was me. Woe was love. Woe was the entire world.

  It all just felt so hopeless and lackluster. What was even the point of going on?

  I sighed and flopped my cheek down on the couch cushion I was lying on as I returned my gaze to the television screen across the room, watching two boys trying to impress a girl by insisting they didn’t like tacos.

  Morons. Didn’t they know lying didn’t work?

  I’d tried that route before. A lot. I mean, I had to make myself look appealing, right? Secure a mate. I didn’t want to grow old alone and turn into a crabby old man like the miserable schlump in this movie. I had to do whatever I could to get some love.

  So I had fibbed a little. But no one had wanted me, even then.

  Then, I tried my roommate’s philosophy. Just be yourself, Trick had insisted. Show some guy the true you. Trust me, the right person will appreciate that.

  But the thing was Trick’s true self was a genuinely cool guy. He had this way about him that made you feel relaxed and chill and right at home whenever you were in his company.

  I was in no way relaxed or chill.

  Imagine a relaxed, chill person, then give them about twenty cups of espresso. With whipped topping. Then some drizzled chocolate syrup on that. With sprinkles. And that was my version of calm.

  I mean, I loved myself, but even I had to admit I was a bit on the hyper side. Some people were just wired that way. And it tended to annoy the hell out of those people who weren’t.

  But I sucked up my reservations and gave being me a try anyway. I unleashed the full power of unadulterated Cress on Derek when I met him. All out, full bore, no brakes, you know. And he actually seemed to like me.

  So I fell in love with him. Obviously.

  Three weeks later, he decided he’d had enough of the Cress express, and…

  He hopped off that train without even waiting for it to make it to the next station.

  So here we were, now, over a month later, and I still felt used and abandoned, like a dirty, crumpled napkin that had gotten wedged behind the trash can and had been forgotten forever, growing dust and mold. I wasn’t even good enough for a landfill.

  I knew I should be studying for finals. My freshman year of college was wrapping up to a very sudden close, and I’d had good grades.

  Until Derek had left me.

  But now…

  What was even the point of higher education? What was the point of anything?

  When the front door blew open suddenly and a figure filled the entrance before stepping inside, I sucked in a breath and lifted my head.

  Derek?

  But, no, it was only Trick.

  Sighing in disappointment, I flopped my cheek back onto the cushion.

  “Hey, kid,” he started, only to glance toward the television and groan as he slowed to a stop. “Are you serious? Monster House? Again?”

  “What? Get off my back. It’s an epic movie.”

  “Okay. That’s it.” He stalked toward me and slapped my feet off the other end of the couch.

  I know. Rude, right?

  “Get up and put your shoes on,” my cousin-who-wasn’t-really-a-cousin ordered. “You’re coming with me.”

  “What? Why?” I whined. Didn’t he realize I just wanted to lie here and suffer? “Where’re we going?”

  “Out for ice cream. A burger. I don’t care. You just gotta get away from the apartment for a bit, man. Have you even attended class this week?”

  No.

  But I wrinkled my nose and answered, “I think so.”

  He sighed and set his hands on his hips as he glanced up at the ceiling, probably seeking divine guidance before he faced me again. “That means no. Jesus, Cress, you’re going to ruin your entire future if you keep this up, and then your parents are going to blame me because I’m supposed to be responsible for you.”

  I rolled my eyes. And he said I was the dramatic one. “You are not responsible for me.”

  “Yeah,” he argued, lifting his brows. “I pretty much am.”

  See, this was the problem with rooming with a guy who was like family and was five years older than you. He turned all big brother and assumed he had to take care of you, while I had thought we’d be more like fun-time roommates.

  We’d both been wrong.

  “Whatever,” I grumbled as I reluctantly got to my feet and slumped across the room to get some shoes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  I didn’t even consider telling him no. Knowing Trick, he’d only nitpick and harp until I did something to satisfy him.

  “Alright,” I told him, knowing exactly how rumpled and unkempt I appeared. “I’m ready.”

  He did a once-over of my appearance and wrinkled his nose. “What the hell is on your shirt?”

  I glanced down, saw red smears, and lifted that section of the shirt to my face, sniffing. “Ketchup,” I declared.

  “Ugh.” He lifted both hands, warding me away as he winced. “Just... Go change. No, better yet, take a damn shower and then find some fresh clothes. And put a rush on it, will you? I don’t got all day.”

  “Gah. You’re so bossy.” But I stomped down the hall, anyway, to do what he said.

  Getting ice cream didn’t sound like such a bad idea, actually. And when the pounding, hot spray of shower water first hit me, I sighed in appreciation.

  Okay, maybe showers were one reason to live.

  When I finished mine, I stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off, only for my stomach to grumble.

  Food might be another reason to keep going. Especially if it was a milkshake and hamburger meal.

  By the time I returned to Trick, I strangely felt ready to get out for a while.

  He was reading something on his phone when I stopped before him and opened my arms wide, ready for a new critique.

  Sensing my presence, he looked up and did a slow, big brotherly inspection, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

  And so we went.

  “You know, kid,” he started in on me as soon as we were in his car with the engine roaring and tires rolling down the street. “I know getting dumped hurts. I’ve been there. Breakups are never fun. But so what if it didn’t work out with you and what’s his face. The guy didn’t deserve you. Now’s the time to get out there and chase some new tail. You know...” He nudged his elbow across the seat in my direction and waggled his brows. “You’re in college, for God’s sake. This is the era where you explore and—and...�
�

  I watched him as he fumbled for the next line. “And what?”

  “And…” He hissed a curse and splayed out a fed-up hand. “And just get out and explore, damn it. Do I look like some inspirational quote poster to you? Or my dad?”

  “Well, actually…” I squinted at him. “You do look a lot like your dad, since, you know, he’s your dad.”

  “The point is...” Trick stressed, talking over me. “If I have to watch that crotchety old Nebuchadrezzar guy make out with his house one more time in that stupid movie you won’t stop watching—”

  “His name’s Nebbercracker.”

  “I’m going to lose my fucking shit and hurt someone,” Trick added, beginning to raise his voice. “And that someone will probably be you. So for your own health—”

  “Yeah, you don’t do heart-to-hearts like your dad, at all.”

  “You need to get over this already!” Trick finished on a yell.

  I winced and covered my ears. “Okay. Wow. Heard ya.”

  “Jesus.” Shaking his head, Trick slowed the car and pulled to the curb in front of a tiny bungalow-style, light blue house with white trim.

  “Umm...” I squinted out the passenger side window. “This doesn’t look like the ice cream parlor.”

  “It’s not. Constance lives here.”

  My eyebrows lifted with interest as I whirled to gape at him. “Constance? You mean hot Constance who’s in a group project with you in one of your boring, graduate, law degree classes?”

  He frowned. “Yes. And stop calling her that. I never should’ve mentioned she was attractive. Now stay here, be good, and I’ll be right back. She just texted, so I know she’s home. I’m going to run in real quick and grab some notes from her because I missed class this week. Alright?”

  “Right.” I sent him a big, obvious wink. “I’ll stay right here. You get some notes.” I made air-quotes around the word notes.

  He rolled his eyes as he opened his door. “You’re such a moron. Just stay here, okay? Oh!” He paused before getting out so he could snap his fingers and point a finger at me. “And beware of Maverick.”

  “Maverick?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Who’s Maverick? Does Hot Constance have a dog?”

  “No. Constance—just Constance—does not have a dog. Maverick is human, and Constance has been staying with him for a few weeks. He’s big and cranky and hotheaded. And he probably eats sweet little things like you for breakfast, so...” He shook the finger he was pointing and made a face. “Well, you know,” he finished. Then he got out of the car, slamming the driver’s side door behind him.

  “Yeah,” I said to the empty interior. “You definitely do not have Uncle Pick’s way with words, man. Not even a little.”

  Which was sad. It was just sad.

  Watching Trick walk up to the front door and knock before he was admitted inside, I sighed.

  Time to play lookout boy, I guess.

  Chapter Two

  Cress

  About five minutes into my wait, I was whistling my way through “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” when a lifted, big-ass four-wheel-drive truck pulled into the driveway of Hot Constance’s house.

  Pausing before the rain could wipe the spider out, I frowned and leaned forward to peer out the front windshield.

  “Well, who do we have here?” I murmured to myself.

  The dude who climbed from the truck sported a gray T-shirt, black jeans, black leather jacket, and tan construction worker boots. I nodded because, oh yeah, he looked like he could be a construction worker. Big rough frame, not shaved but not yet beard status either, dark hair that spiked out, and a don’t-fuck-with-me look about him.

  Mmm. Yes. There was just something utterly delicious about construction workers. They were so physical. So raw. So male.

  A full-body shiver seized me as I appreciated the view.

  Then he did the unthinkable. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, flashing me with just enough raised hem to show off the silver grommets that went all the way around his black belt. They detracted from his construction worker look to give him more of a bad boy, metrosexual vibe. Which, for me, was even sexier.

  A sound of need whimpered its way from the back of my throat. But if this was Maverick, I wanted one.

  Wait.

  Maverick?

  Oh, shit. I was supposed to be on the lookout for Maverick, wasn’t I? I mean, Trick hadn’t said those exact words, but if he was inside Maverick’s house, currently giving notes to the girl living with Maverick, then I had a feeling he didn’t want to get caught with all his pages exposed.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” I muttered, fumbling with the door latch to push my way out of Trick’s ancient car.

  Stupid old cars. The door latch always caught in this death trap. Why did Trick have to inherit his love for classic cars from his dad, of all things?

  He would’ve been much better off receiving Uncle Pick’s wisdom and ability to dispense good advice.

  I mean, damn.

  “I’m coming, buddy,” I growled, shoving my shoulder as hard as I could against the door as I cranked the handle, just about dislocating the joint in the process, and tumbling out of the car to spill onto the curb in an ungraceful heap. “Cress to the rescue.”

  I wasn’t going to let this metrosexual construction worker piece of art hurt my favorite non-cousin. No, sir.

  “Hey, uh, Maverick!” I called, picking myself off the ground and brushing away stray grass and rubble that were sticking to me.

  But I needn’t have shouted at all. I’d already gotten the hunk’s attention.

  He’d paused the moment I’d exploded from the car like a jack-in-the box, and now he was tilting his head and blinking at me as if he was trying to figure out what I even was.

  When our gazes met, my breath caught in my chest. But wow, he really was gorgeous.

  Not that I could focus on that at the moment. Trick needed me.

  I flashed Maverick my brightest, most charming smile.

  I mean, maybe I could practice on a little of the this-is-the-real-Cress flirting while I distracted him from going inside—if he wasn’t a homophobe and tried to kick my ass for it, that was.

  “It’s Maverick, right?” I asked, hitching up my chin in greeting as I approached.

  He didn’t smile back. If anything, he frowned harder.

  Though honestly, I’d never seen a frown look so sexy before. I mean, wowza. I wanted to trace each magical grooved indention of ire on his face with my fingertips.

  But still...

  Flirting seemed to be a definite no here. Check.

  I cleared my throat, dropping the smile.

  “Yeah,” he finally answered, glancing down at my body and then back up to my face. “Do I know you?”

  His voice was all low and graveled, making my abdomen tighten with need.

  I instinctively wanted to answer that he could get to know me if he wanted to. But nope. Nope, I wasn’t going to flirt with him. He obviously belonged to Hot Constance.

  Hot Constance who was currently inside with Trick.

  Shit. Trick! Right. I had to keep this sizzling hunk of man-candy from going inside until Trick came out.

  “No. We haven’t had the pleasure yet,” I said, finally stopping in front of him so I could hold out a hand. “But I’m Cress. Cress Gamble.”

  He frowned down at my hand, not touching it, and then he looked back up at me.

  “And?”

  And? And, what? Oh God, I had no and. My mind utterly emptied of all thought. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to keep him here and distracted.

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I know I’m completely blowing this, but I can’t remember what I was going to say. You’re just so hot, and I can’t think straight.”

  “Oh Jesus,” he muttered with a disgusted snort. “Not again.”

  He took an intimidating step toward me and lifted a threatening finger, making me stumble backward away from him.

&n
bsp; “Look. I don’t know who keeps sending you fuckers to my house. But this is beginning to piss me off. So just go back and tell whoever is pulling your strings to fuck off and leave me alone. Alright?”

  I blinked at him, totally lost. “Huh?”

  He rolled his eyes and spun away. “Goodbye.”

  As he started up the steps toward the front door, my eyes widened. “No! Wait.”

  I popped around him, slipping between him and the doorway with barely any room to spare, just as he started to reach for the door handle. It caused me to land, like, practically against him, our faces only inches apart. What was worse, he didn’t jerk back to get out of my space. And sharing such close quarters with him went straight to my head.

  Because he looked even better up close like this. He had chocolate brown eyes and really kissable-looking soft lips.

  But he didn’t seem as drawn to my magnetism as I was to his.

  “What the actual fuck?” His defined jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed as he hissed, “Get out of my way.”

  I was probably about half a second from becoming a pancake.

  “Okay, one,” I started, barely managing to lift a finger between us, “please don’t kick my ass. Two, sorry but I have no idea what you were just talking about down there, and three...”

  Clearing my throat, I tried not to think about how nice it was to be this close to him. But hell.

  “You smell really good,” I ended up blurting, anyway.

  Shit, no. I should’ve said anything but that.

  With a wince, I revised, “No, wait. I mean, that wasn’t supposed to be number three. That was really just a side observation. I sometimes wander off track from whatever I’m talking about, you see, and—”