Secrets That We Keep Page 42

  “Honey, it doesn’t get much worse than this. I’ll be lucky if I survive the month. Who the fuck cares if I get my rocks off a little before I go?” I blew out a relieved breath as he added, “Don’t let my overprotective worrywart of a big brother get the best of you. You did not make anything worse for me. And I really appreciate what you did, okay?”

  Slowly, I removed my hands from my eyes and blinked at him. “Okay. But—”

  “No buts.” He lifted a finger to silence my concerns. “Just tell me last night was great and give me a hug goodbye.”

  I paused horribly, unable to say any such thing about the night before. Because it’d been awkward, uncomfortable, and embarrassing, and absolutely nothing about it had been great for me. But I couldn’t upset Duke with the truth.

  For some reason, I glanced toward Loom. He lifted an eyebrow as if daring me to admit how I really felt.

  I scowled at him and then stepped toward Duke to hug him. “Thank you for last night,” I said against his frail chest.

  No matter what I thought about the actual events, it’d been a learning experience I wouldn’t soon forget. And even though he didn’t act like someone who was dying, I couldn’t leave him with any kind of negativity.

  Duke sighed gratefully and hugged me back, murmuring into my ear, “Thank you. And just ignore Vaughn. I usually do. He’s only jealous because you did something for me that he couldn’t.”

  I cringed over that bit of inappropriateness, but I had to admit, the derisive answering snort that came behind me from the man who must be big brother Vaughn was pretty satisfying.

  “Take care of yourself, will you,” I ordered gently. “And keep in touch. For as long as you can.”

  He nodded and kissed my cheek. “Of course.”

  I touched his shoulder as I pulled away and whispered, “Bye.”

  When I turned, I nearly ran into his brother again, who was still scowling and still hovering.

  He didn’t get a goodbye from me. I merely glowered back and edged around him, muttering, “Excuse me,” as I left.

  I never saw Duke alive again. He didn’t contact me, and I never contacted him.

  Three weeks after that morning, I attended his funeral.

  And a week after that, I sank numbly onto the closed seat of my toilet in my bathroom, blinking in shock at the positive results of the home pregnancy test quivering in my hand.

  SECOND ENCOUNTER

  So was it any wonder that I absolutely dreaded making my second trip to the Merrill house?

  I guess I really hadn’t needed to go there, but after confessing all the humiliating details of my pregnancy origins to my family and getting their full support and offer of help, I began to think of the thing growing inside me as an actual child.

  And I realized that someday this child was probably going to talk. And ask questions. Lots of questions. Just like my six-year-old nephew, Braiden, did. And I could already picture him or her asking the very first one.

  But, Mama, who’s my daddy?

  Honestly, I hadn’t known all that much about Duke Merrill. Ergo, here I was. Again.

  Remembering the last time I’d been here, I shuddered in revulsion, then winced in guilt because I wasn’t being very respectful of the dead. Poor Duke couldn’t help it that he’d been so bad in the sack. He’d just been happy for one last orgasm. And I should be satisfied with giving him a smile on his way out.

  If only it hadn’t ended with me turning into a soon-to-be mother.

  Dear God, even the word mother made me break out in a cold sweat. I was so not ready for parenthood.

  But never mind that. I was here for an entirely different reason. Or maybe it was because of that very reason I was here. Part of me was already acting motherly and striving to give my child whatever I thought was needed.

  Steeling my resolve before seeing Duke’s brother again, I fisted my hands at my sides, blew out a long breath, and then I did it.

  I knocked on the door.

  My pulse picked up and nerves set in when I heard footsteps approaching from the inside. Then I winced as the latch clicked and the door began to open.

  Vaughn appeared before I was ready for him to, all tall and imposing, dark eyes meeting mine and sending a punch of intimidation and attraction right through me.

  Wait. Did I just say attraction? Yeah, scratch that. That word totally had not meant to come out of my thoughts. Because I was not attracted to Vaughn Merrill. I mean, just because a person was attractive didn't automatically mean you had to form some kind of sexual—

  No, not sexual. Jesus, why did I keep thinking words I didn’t mean to? This was getting bad. And all the while, he just stood there, waiting for me to speak, while my brain fumbled over words I didn’t want it to think.

  He had a thick covering of facial hair now, and the rings under his eyes told me he hadn’t been sleeping well. The poor man was still mourning. It hadn’t even been two months since he’d buried his brother.

  Damn, maybe I should’ve waited a bit before making this house call.

  Oh well. Too late now. He was already standing there, still just looking at me. Waiting.

  Stomach twitching with sympathy, I shed all the spite and resentment and—okay, fine—attraction I’d been feeling for him, and I heaved in a big breath before saying, “Hi,” as brightly as I could.

  His eyes twitched as he squinted at me in confusion.

  Certain that meant he didn’t recognize me, I clasped my hands together and said, “You probably don’t remember me, but—”

  “I remember,” he cut in stonily.

  “O-oh.” For some reason, I hadn’t expected him to say that, so now I was all thrown off-balance and couldn’t remember what I’d planned to ask in the first place. “Well, uh, good. I mean…”

  Argh, I really sucked at this.

  Shaking my head and giving him a tremulous apologetic grin, I added, “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you at the funeral…”

  Because I might have purposely avoided him at all costs that day.

  But I had gone to the service with a couple of my coworkers, and none of them knew I’d—you know—had relations with Duke. I kind of really didn’t want any of them to know, either, so I’d avoided running into Vaughn while I was with the others because I’d had this unreasonable fear that he would oust me completely, pointing when he saw me and shouting in front of all the mourners: Hey, aren’t you that lady who had the one-night stand with my brother? Or worse. What if he pointed and said, YOU’RE the reason Duke’s gone.

  So yeah, no way could I go anywhere near him that day and potentially get myself guilted for life.

  “I saw you there,” Vaughn told me, making me feel even worse for avoiding him.

  “Oh,” I repeated. “Well, I—I just wanted to express my condolences. I’m so sorry for your loss. I only knew Duke from Beriss for those few months he worked there, but, uh, he was a very memorable guy. I think he packed more life into the office than everyone else combined.”

  When I paused—because this was the point where the other person usually thanked you for your compassion and offer of comfort—Vaughn Merrill didn’t thank me at all. And he certainly didn’t appease my biggest fear that my being with Duke might’ve been what killed him.

  Narrowing his eyes with suspicion, he merely said, “And?”

  And?

  “Uh…” Wow, he just kept jostling me with his unexpected and rudely abrupt responses. Not that I didn’t deserve them—you know, for possibly killing off his brother—but still.

  “Well…” Clearing my throat before getting to the next part, I nodded, bolstering myself. Then… “I was just wondering if you had a picture or two of him to spare that I could keep and, uh, if there’s anything about him you’d be willing to share with me. Just random, odds-and-ends facts that someone might put into—I don’t know—a family scrapbook or…or something. Just anything. It would be really helpful.”

  Vaughn didn’t answer for an
uncomfortably long moment. Then he shook his head slightly, revealing his confusion. “I thought you said you hadn’t known him that well.”

  “Yeah…” I started, frowning out my own bewilderment. “Th-that’s why I’m asking for a couple of things to help me get a better picture of who he was in my head.”

  “Why?” he asked bluntly.

  Oh Jesus. I really hadn’t wanted to tell him why.

  It was at that moment that I realized he’d never invited me inside. But it wasn’t his lack of manners that bothered me. It was me, standing outside in the open for anyone to hear me confess my life mistakes that I wasn’t a big fan of.

  Gritting my teeth, I backed up, stepped down off the first step to the front stoop and glanced left, then right. No neighbors seemed to be out in their yards to listen in. So I sucked in more courage and turned back to Vaughn, coming back up the stairs.

  “So the thing is,” I started in a rush. “I’m pregnant, and I just thought a tiny bit of information about the baby’s daddy would be nice to have on hand in case, you know, someday the little bambino actually asks about him.” I rubbed my belly and sent Vaughn a chagrined wince as I finished the whirlwind explanation, probably running the words together horribly in order to get them all out as fast as possible. “So can you help a girl out?”

  He just stared at me. Again.

  Then he blinked. “You’re pregnant?”

  I refused to say it again, so I just bit the corner of my lip nervously and nodded.

  “And you’re sure it’s his?”

  I really had to work and get myself right with Jesus in order not to take exception to that question.

  But once I finally calmed myself enough to answer rationally, I nodded. “Yes.”

  “How?”

  I’m sorry, what?

  “Did you just ask me how? As in how I’m sure Duke’s the father? Really?”

  Alright, screw calm.

  Vaughn Merrill needed to be taught a lesson in some serious manners. You don’t press a woman on whether or not she was absolutely certain she knew who her baby’s daddy was if she answered with an explicitly clear yes the first time around.

  Asshole.

  “Well, you know. Now that you mention it, I am a little uncertain. Because it’s either Duke’s baby or the last guy I was with...two fucking years ago. So, you know....” I lifted both hands and alternated between shifting them up and down as if weighing my choices. “I guess it could go either way. I’m so glad you asked, though, and made me feel like a super slut in the process. Appreciate it.”

  Not a fan of my sarcasm, he sniffed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean…” But he must’ve known he couldn’t save face at that point, so he dropped whatever excuse, apology, or explanation he’d been about to make, and my own guilt reached a snapping point.

  “Look. I’m sorry. Okay?” Tears watered in my eyes. “I know it’s my fault he died. And if I could take it back, I totally would, but it doesn’t negate the fact that—”

  “It’s not your fault that he died,” he cut in, squinting at me as if confused why I would make such a claim.

  I blinked at him, equally confused by his confusion. Then I burst out, “But you said that my being with him in his weakened state would—”

  “He died because he had cancer,” he said with certainty, then shook his head. “No other reason.”

  “But.”

  “No,” he growled, his eyes flashing. “I get your guilt. I do. I was supposed to be the one taking care of him. Keeping him healthy. And I fucking failed. So I understand all your worries.”

  When he paused abruptly to rein in his own emotions, I blinked, not sure what to say.

  But after a moment of swallowing hard and drawing in a deep breath, he met my gaze with steady eyes. “But neither of us killed him. The cancer did.”

  I nodded, bobbing my head like an idiot, no words in my arsenal to help him through this moment, which obviously seemed hard for him.

  He didn’t need me to speak, though. A moment later, he frowned and asked, “Were you pregnant at the funeral?”

  I blinked, certain I had misheard that one. Then I shook my head and sniffed out my amusement. “Um, not sure how Duke could’ve gotten me pregnant after it.”

  “I mean—shit.” His face flushed with color when he realized how idiotic he’d been, and he closed his eyes briefly as if he needed to clear his thoughts. Then he touched his brow, reset his brain, and seemed to be back in working order again as he dropped his hand and opened his lashes. “Did you know then, is what I was asking?”

  “Oh.” Okay, that made more sense. “No. I found out a little over a week later.”

  “Christ.” Gripping his head, he hissed out a bitter laugh and muttered, “This is just like him. Still making me clean up his damn messes, even from the grave.”

  “Um, excuse me.” I lifted an indignant finger. “But there’s no mess here to begin with. I might have done something I wish I hadn’t, and now there are consequences to deal with. But my kid is not a mess. Nor would I expect or want you of all people to clean it up if there was one because it’s none of your business.”

  “How could you be so irresponsible?” he boomed as if he hadn’t even heard me. “Have you never heard of damn protection?”

  I gasped, unable to believe this guy. I wanted to sock him so hard. Right in the jaw. But he was also right. I had completely forgotten protection that night. I’d been so nervous about being careful and not wanting to inadvertently hurt Duke that the thought of condoms and all other forms of prevention had completely slipped my mind.

  Duke obviously hadn’t been concerned—because honestly, why would he need to be—so remembering all that really had been on me. But still…

  “Look,” I growled, stepping toward Duke’s jerk-faced brother and glaring. “I only came here for a damn picture, not to be judged and lectured about my questionable life decisions, alright? I’m already beating myself up enough for all of it, as it is. I know I could’ve and should have done so many things differently that night, but I can’t take it back now, can I? So just get off my back. If you decide to be an actual human being with some semblance of a heart someday and want to give me any kind of information that I can share with your future niece or nephew about Duke, then great. Here’s my card.”

  I shoved it against his chest and let go so abruptly that he had to scramble to keep it from falling to the ground.

  “But if not...” I sniffed at him snidely and shrugged before turning away and stalking off. “Then have a good life, asshole.”

  THIRD TIME’S A CHARM

  I was pretty certain I’d never see or hear from Vaughn again after that.

  So I nearly fell out of my hospital bed from shock the morning after Ava Grace was born, when he appeared in the doorway of my patient room, holding a gift bag down at his side.

  My brother and his wife were with me, my first visitors of the day. Bentley had immediately stolen my child and was sitting with her in the rocking chair, cooing happily, and Beau was hovering around my breakfast tray that had just been delivered. Apparently, Bentley had rushed him from home to drop Braiden off with her parents and get here before he could eat breakfast, so he was hungrily eyeing all my food when a tap came on the door.

  “Come in,” Beau called over his shoulder as if it were his room, not mine, and he reached for a stalk of celery in my veggie cup.

  I smacked his hand and glowered. “Really?”

  “What? You don’t even like celery.” And he rebelliously dipped it into my ranch dressing before plugging it into his mouth.

  Behind him, the door opened, and a nurse poked her head inside. “You have a visitor. He says he’s the baby’s uncle.”

  “Huh?” Beau whirled around with his mouth full. “No, I’m the baby’s uncle.”

  He marched toward the door indignantly and yanked it all the way open to reveal part of the man who was standing behind the nurse.

  “Who the hell are y
ou?”

  “I’m Vaughn Merrill.”

  My pulse zinged when I heard his familiar voice, but that was probably just because my system was preparing for my blood pressure to skyrocket with anger as it always did in Vaughn’s company.

  “Merrill?” Beau repeated. “You the dead guy’s brother, then?”

  “Beau!” I hissed. But, oh my God, how had I been related to this inconsiderate buffoon my entire life? Though, you know, his influence on me was probably the reason I accidentally had my own inconsiderate moments more often than I wanted to.

  He glanced at me with a shrug. “Want me to let him in?”

  Did I? I kind of dreaded going another round with Vaughn; I was still worn out from giving birth less than twenty-four hours before. But he was Ava’s uncle. It’d feel rude to turn him away. Besides, I was curious to know why he was here to begin with. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since I’d asked for a picture of Duke. And oddly, I was sort of eager for the strange dopamine hit of enraged vitality that rushed through me whenever I was in his presence.

  Huh? Was I that addicted to arguing with people? I was such a weirdo.

  Lifting a hand, I waved my assent to Beau. “I mean, yeah. Whatever. He’s her family.”

  The nurse, then Beau, stepped aside, and I got my first full view of Vaughn in months. The gift bag he held had a pastel rainbow on the side with a teddy bear sliding down it into a pile of clouds. It looked really strange in his terse, grumpy possession.

  I blinked at him as he uneasily stepped into the room.

  “How did you know…?” I started, shaking my head in wonder.

  “I called the hospital to see if you were here,” he answered before gulping and wincing guiltily when he added, “Every day for the past three weeks.”

  I’m not sure why hearing that hit me the way it did, but this wave of emotion rippled through me. I just couldn’t imagine someone caring that much and going through—

  Though yeah, you’re right; it was probably Ava he’d cared about getting information on, not me.