The Secrets You Keep Read online

“Good. This way, I know they never will.”

  There’s so much about him I don’t know. Like how he sent me the picture. How he found me tonight. How he managed to make it across an entire ocean at the exact moment I needed saving.

  “Who are you?”

  He chuckles under his breath as if he’d been reading my thoughts. “I’m Batman.”

  “If I weren’t such a realist, I’d probably believe that’s true,” I reply with a smile.

  “You got my gift.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He already knows the answer, but I give it to him anyway.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re wondering how I found you.”

  Add mind-reading to his list of superpowers.

  I relax against the leather seat. “It crossed my mind. And don’t say instinct. Because I’ll call bullshit.”

  He laughs and looks at me again. The car we were following turned off a couple of blocks ago. But I don’t think Callan cares. He got what he needed. What he plans to do with that information is between him and God. But knowing he has it makes me feel safe. I don’t know why, but I trust him. I just don’t trust myself when I’m with him. I lose control of all my senses. The fluorescent light of the interstate flashes across his face as we drive. I don’t even care where we’re going. I’m just happy to be with him again.

  “I asked for it. At the hospital,” he admits.

  My mouth falls. “And they just gave it to you? Just like that?”

  “Well, I can be quite charming,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  “Agreed. But… that’s my personal information.”

  “And I promise no one but me has access to it.”

  How? I want to ask a thousand questions. But he’d just derail them all. So I don’t bother.

  “Well… thank you. For the gift. And for showing up when you did.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Grace. I just thought you might need to be reminded of that.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful. He. Thinks I’m. Beautiful. I’m certain if it weren’t dark outside that he’d see me blushing right now.

  “Thank you.”

  “And for the record. The hospital only gave me your name and address. Google told me the rest.”

  “Gotta love Google.”

  He smiles, and I remind myself it’s not ladylike to rip your clothes off in the front seat of someone’s vehicle. “Right now, I’m pretty fond of it,” he says.

  At this very moment, I’m pretty fond of it, too. I’d be a parking lot pancake if he hadn’t shown up when he did. How did I let that happen? When did I become so vulnerable?

  “What was all that back there, anyway?” he asks.

  I huff a laugh. Because my only other option is to cry. And I’m not doing that in front of him.

  “That was me helping.”

  His jaw clenches in the moonlight. It’s almost audible. My defense mechanisms kick in. This time it really wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t careless. Except for the fact that I didn’t have my mace ready. Like that would have helped against five dudes with guns. I shouldn’t have flinched at the gunshot. I should have gotten in my car and drove away. Who would take care of my father if something happened to me? What would happen to Lucas? Or Natalie? Callan is right. I should be more careful.

  “But it’s not what you think,” I continue. “I didn’t have much of a choice this time. Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose.”

  “Did they touch you?”

  “No,” I answer almost too quickly. I’m pretty sure if he looked hard enough he’d find the first guy’s fingerprints on my bicep. No doubt there will be bruises there tomorrow. If there aren’t already. I change the subject before he has time to doubt my answer. “One of them was hurt. He was bleeding badly. Then the other guys showed up. Then… you. You just appeared out of nowhere.”

  “Gangs?”

  I nod. I know where I work. I know it’s not ideal. I know there are dangers. But I can’t be afraid to wake up in the morning and do it all over again. I can’t give up on who I am. On what I do. I can’t let one single incident wrap me in fear and keep me from doing what I love. But it is. Because every time I think about having to go back to that parking lot, a chill speeds through my veins. I hear the gunshot. I smell the blood. I see the headlights coming at me at full speed. And I’m afraid. What if they come back?

  An invisible fist punches me in the gut, knocking the wind from my lungs. The first drop falls. Then the second. Before I know it, my cheeks are stained with tears, and I’m fighting to breathe. I look out the window, hoping Callan doesn’t see.

  He does.

  The SUV pulls into an empty parking lot, and he takes my hand. I blink back any more tears before they fall, then turn to face him.

  “I’m fine. Really. It was just… a lot.”

  He leans across the console. His other hand wipes my cheek as he brings his face close to mine. His breath kisses my skin when he speaks. Peppermint. I can almost taste it on my tongue.

  “It’s okay not to be fine,” he says.

  I part my lips for another imaginary taste. His eyes fall to my mouth, and for a second, I hope he’ll kiss me. He doesn’t. But I want him to.

  “I know. But I really am okay.”

  At least I will be. Once I have time to process it all and plan a way to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m a fixer. I’ll fix this. I don’t want to talk about tonight anymore. Not right now. Not with him. I just want to enjoy the scent of peppermint against my skin and the feel of his strong hand in mine. I wish I knew more about his touch. His taste. I wish we’d had more time.

  “I’m sorry. For not saying goodbye—” I start.

  “Don’t,” he interrupts.

  “Don’t?”

  He looks up, his eyes gazing into mine. And every thread of self-preservation I had left holding me together rips apart at the seams, leaving me vulnerable.

  “Don’t look back. You might miss what’s right in front of you.”

  My heart drops. Falls into the pit of my stomach. Pounding. Beating. Nervous.

  “I should go. Renee is probably freaking out right now.”

  He lets out a heavy sigh and turns my hand loose. I immediately miss his touch. His eyes narrow as they bore into mine. “I’m not taking you back there. Not tonight.”

  I don’t know if I could even go back there tonight.

  “Can you take me home?” I ask.

  A smile tugs at his lips, like he’s relieved I didn’t put up a fight. He taps the screen on the dash until the GPS comes up. “Tell it where you want me to go, and I’ll take you wherever you like.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Callan

  My hand wraps around the silver chain in my pocket. I know it’s morning by the orange hue that bleeds through from outside, but I can’t see anything beyond the fog on my windows.

  If I’d have known the night was going to hold a chill, I would’ve packed a jacket. Then again, I never planned on sleeping in my Range Rover on the side of the road. I just wanted to bring Grace the necklace. The one she loved that day at the harbor. I wanted to wrap the chain around her delicate neck—to touch her skin one more time.

  When I found out where and when she worked, I didn’t expect to find her standing in the middle of the parking lot being chased by adolescent wannabe badasses. But I’m glad I did. The guy in the Camaro wasn’t pulling any punches. He had his foot on the gas, and Grace had a target on her back.

  For the first time ever, though, I think it shook her. I think she realized that she can’t help everyone all the time. That the world is ugly, and life is harsh. I know this because I watched her heart break the moment it hit her.

  I wanted to take her in my arms, to tell her she’ll be okay. She’ll adjust. She’ll wake up and the sunrise will remind her that the beauty isn’t all lost. But that’s not who I am. That’s not what I do. I’m not a comforter. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

  I offered to
stay with her, to make sure she’s safe. And when she politely said no, I parked across the street and slept in my car.

  My finger scrolls down my contacts until it reaches David’s name. I’m curious to see how his first night back home went. On the flight from South Africa to Miami, he finally found the courage to tell me what they did in the three weeks the radicals held him captive. He’d been locked in a dark closet, forced to lose all sense of reality, for days at a time. For hours on end, he was made to kneel in the heat of the day on the streets of their compound while they ridiculed and spat on him. Once, he tried to escape. That’s when they broke his ankle with a wooden bat.

  The sheer joy on the faces of his wife and son the second they saw him at the airport was enough to make even me envious of that kind of closeness. Those moments make the darker ones worthwhile. They bring light to the sins I’m driven to commit, hope to the shadows that dance on my soul.

  A light tap on the glass grabs my attention. I turn the ignition to lower the window. It’s Grace.

  “I hope you take the cheap stuff. It’s all I’ve got,” she says, holding up a small red gas can. She’s pulled her hair up on top of her head, and her face glows even without makeup.

  I can’t help but chuckle at her assumption. “I didn’t run out of gas.”

  She sets the plastic container on the ground beside her then leans in through the window. The morning sun kisses her skin, but her eyes are heavy from a sleepless night. Yet still, she’s beautiful.

  “How long have you been here?”

  And chatty.

  “Since you went inside last night.”

  Not the answer she was expecting, obviously.

  “So, sleeping in cars. That’s your thing?”

  “Only when I need to make sure someone’s safe.”

  A pained expression flashes across her face. Surely, I’m not the first person in her life to look out for her. This woman who does so much to help others can’t possibly be alone in this world. She clears her throat and stands up straight.

  “Thank you. But you didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever slept in.”

  Her brows bunch together as she mentally processes what that might mean, but she doesn’t ask. I don’t use words to flatter or comfort. I’m not trying to make her feel better. She’s only just beginning to learn about the world we live in. And I’ve been exposed to it since I was nineteen years old. I’ve slept in six-foot holes, behind rocks, in the freezing rain. Spending the night in the protection of a luxury SUV to make sure no one followed her home was nothing.

  “I have coffee,” she says, fending off all the questions I can see behind her curious eyes.

  “Coffee sounds fantastic.”

  Her face brightens with a smile that makes her eyes light up. “Okay, then. Follow me.”

  “If you need it, the bathroom is down that hall. Second door on the left,” she says once we’re inside, proving once again that she can’t seem to stop worrying about everyone around her.

  The first door I pass is open just enough for me to peer inside. It’s very different from the rest of the house, which is cozy and warm. That room is crisp and modern. Misplaced.

  Grace sits with one leg tucked under the other in the corner of a white, linen sofa, both hands around her coffee cup as she cools the liquid with her breath. Her plaid pajama pants hang past the bottoms of her feet, and stray locks of hair fall from the pile on top of her head and around her face.

  “Maybe tonight you can spring for a hotel.” She giggles as she hands me a mug. I take a seat next to her, careful not to spill.

  “I own some property here. Normally, that’s where I stay.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise as she lifts her head to look at me. Then they fall to the ground as she obviously remembers who I am. “Oh. Right.”

  I wonder how much she actually knows about me—how much my sister has shared with her. I wonder if she knows who I am, what I do, why I had to leave. And why it’s better if I stay away.

  “So, do you come here a lot? To Miami?” she asks, and I know her question is strictly innocent conversation.

  I’m the only one that knows it’s loaded. Maybe she doesn’t know as much as I thought. If she did, she’d know I haven’t been here in a long time. She’d know I no longer had a reason. Until now.

  I take a sip of coffee before answering. “I used to. Not anymore. Not in a very long time.”

  “So, why now?”

  “Business,” I answer, and her face falls. Disappointment replaces the playfulness in her tired eyes. I remember the chain in my pocket. “And you.”

  She looks up, her gaze locked with mine. Her lips part, just slightly, enough to inhale a sharp breath. I caught her off guard.

  She takes a sip of her coffee to distract herself. “I don’t know what to say to that. I thought—”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” I tuck my hand into my pocket and pull out the necklace. “Here. I thought you’d like this.”

  I hold the chain at each end, letting the diamond dangle in the middle. She doesn’t say a word as I stand up then move to the back of the sofa and stand behind her. I latch the chain around her neck. She clutches the solitary diamond at the base of her throat and looks back at me.

  “Callan, I… This…” She shakes her head in denial.

  I lean forward and speak against her skin. “It’s just a gift, Grace.”

  “Thank you.” She turns her head away from mine.

  The smooth skin of her bare neck is just inches from my mouth. I have to fight for control before I lose it all and fuck her right here—right now—right on that sofa.

  “I don’t… This…” She waves her hands around the area between us. “This isn’t something I do. The harbor. The restaurant. The coffee. This,” she says, grabbing the necklace again.

  I know. I knew it the minute I watched her with Johan.

  I walk around the sofa and sit beside her again. “A woman like you should experience all of those things. And more.” I could show you so much more.

  “Sometimes life doesn’t give us a choice.”

  “You always have a choice, Grace.”

  Choices are life’s versions of safe words. We aren’t forced to lie back and accept things outside of our limits. If we don’t like something, we change it.

  “Maybe that’s true for some people.”

  “It’s true for all people. Even you.”

  She pulls her leg from under her, straightening her posture. “You don’t know that.” She sets her coffee mug on the table beside her and grabs a pillow, cradling it against her stomach. She’s defensive. “You don’t even know me.”

  Her words come at me like a blow to the chest. If I were standing, I’d have stumbled backward. “Then let’s change that. Tell me who you are.”

  Silence. Her gaze holds mine as the silence wraps around us like a vise. Clenching. Suffocating. Ending us before we even begin. Don’t do this, Grace. Let me in. She lets out a long, steady breath, and the ropes that threatened to bind us break loose. Setting us free.

  “Do you know what I do?” she asks, her eyes never letting go of mine.

  “You’re a doctor.”

  She smiles, and I remember the first time we met, in Johan’s room.

  “And I’m not.” I smile back.

  “Yes.” She nods. “I’m a doctor.” She moves the pillow to the side, breaking away at the ties that bind us, opening the wall that stands between us. “Neo-natal.”

  I knew that from her profile. She’s one of the best in the state, and she’s got the credentials to prove it.

  Her smile fades. “But do you know why?”

  “No.”

  She clears her throat—the way I’ve come to learn she does when she’s deciding exactly what to say and how to say it. Her eyes fall to her lap as she finds the courage to let me in.

  “I’d just started med school when I met a guy. Brent.” She looks off to
the side at the mention of his name. Then she shakes the thought away and continues. “We dated a while. It got serious. But my father was so headstrong. And I was so afraid of disappointing him. Get your life together. Finish college. There will be plenty of time for love later.” Her voice drops deep in her throat as she mimics his words. “Brent and I spent a week in Saint-Tropez.” She takes in a deep breath, carefully choosing her next words. “I forgot my birth control pills. But Brent told me not to worry about it. He made promises and convinced me that no matter what happened, we’d be okay.” She laughs at some unspoken memory. “I don’t know if maybe subconsciously, I forgot my pills on purpose. To rebel against my father. Who knows? But it happened. And I got pregnant. I thought my parents were going to kill me. But they didn’t say a word. They just did what parents do. They supported me. My mom. She was amazing. She told me what to expect. She took me shopping. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was actually excited.” Grace’s eyes start to glisten with tears, but she quickly blinks them away. “The baby was born ten weeks premature. There was nothing anyone could do.” Jesus. I can see the pain in her eyes, hear it in her voice. It cuts through me as if it’s my own. “He had a name. A heartbeat. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. And I held him in my arms until the moment he stopped fighting.” She clears her throat then looks across at me. “I can’t imagine the thought of any mother feeling what I felt that day. So I do everything I can to save them. Both.”

  The inches between us seem like miles, stretched as far as the eye can see. We all carry secrets. We all carry pain. But I’m here now, and I can’t let her carry it alone anymore. I lay my arm across her shoulders and pull her body to mine, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. She rests her head against my chest, and we sit there in soft broken silence.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Grace

  I never meant to tell Callan any of this. It’s not a story I tell anyone. I keep it locked in the vault. The one that stores all my broken pieces. And I never, ever let anyone have the key.

  But I trust him. I’m drawn to him. It’s like we’re being pulled by something stronger than both of us, something outside of ourselves. And fighting it is like swimming upstream. Pointless.