The Secrets You Keep Read online

  “Take it. And don’t stop until I say.”

  He fills me. So full, my jaw aches. His hand in my hair controls the tempo, but there’s a pattern to his movements. Pain. Fullness. Rest. His hips thrust as he pumps back and forth, fucking my mouth while I take him all the way to the root. The most delicious and satisfied groan escapes from his lips. And I close my eyes and savor the taste of him, the knowledge of pleasing him. My body is his. His to take, his to fuck, his to own.

  I want to touch him, to grab his thighs and hold myself steady, but I don’t. Because for reasons he has yet to explain, he needs this. I can see it. I can feel it. He needs me to give myself to him, just as much as I need for him to take me. When I’m with him, the voices quiet. The never-ending vise of responsibility that threatens to squeeze the life from my lungs loosens its grip. With Callan, I am free.

  The grip in my hair tightens, and he pulls his cock from my mouth. My head tilts back as he forces me to look up at him. With his free hand, he strokes himself. Once. Twice. His eyes close, and his teeth clench. Then liquid, hot and sticky, covers my throat and chest when he comes. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The sexiest I’ve ever felt.

  He unwraps my hair from his fist and strokes the side of my cheek.

  “I’ll never have enough of that mouth.”

  “It’s yours.”

  “Say that again,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.

  “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

  ***

  The next day, Natalie and I research rehab facilities in the area. She’s really doing it. She’s really getting the help she needs. And I couldn’t be happier. For her and for Lucas. I know my parents are smiling down from Heaven right now. My heart is full.

  I’m getting ready to walk out of the door for my shift at the hospital when the doorbell chimes.

  “Miss Matthews?” an older man dressed in a gray three-piece says when I open the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Sign here, please.” He hands me a tablet and stylus and points to a blank line on the screen. I hand it back, and he pulls a long, white box from behind his back. “This is for you.”

  Natalie wiggles her eyebrows over her coffee cup and watches from the sofa as I set the box on the coffee table.

  “Well. Open it,” she shrieks.

  I love seeing her like this. Happy. Refreshed. Like the bright-eyed girl I grew up with. I roll my eyes and slip the lid off the box. It’s a dress. Long, black, and covered in tiny black sequins from the waist up. The V-neck plunges low, almost all the way to the navel, and it’s completely backless. There are clasps made of rhinestones—or maybe diamonds—where the thin spaghetti shoulder straps meet the bodice. It’s gorgeous. The last time I wore a dress like this was prom.

  Who sent this? And why? It’s not like I can wear this to work.

  “Holy shit,” Natalie gawks when I hold it up against my figure. “Someone really likes you,” she finishes with a wink, bringing the oversized mug to her lips.

  My cheeks burn with embarrassment. God, I hope she didn’t hear anything last night. It has to be Callan. Other than my parents, no one has sent me gifts in years. I clutch the diamond around my neck and smile. There’s an envelope taped to the bottom of the box. It’s an invitation. To an art gallery showing tomorrow night. At the bottom, in perfectly scripted handwriting is a note.

  Now you have somewhere to wear the necklace. I’ll pick you up at 6.

  Without seeing his face or hearing his voice, with nothing more than written words on a page, he stimulates me. My body reacts—in ways I don’t even understand yet—to the simple thought of being with him.

  “Yeah. I guess someone really does,” I reply.

  I can’t fight the ridiculous grin on my face when I realize the truth in my statement.

  ***

  The silky fabric clings to my skin, caressing it like a cool summer breeze. The cut of the dress makes it impossible to wear any type of underwear, top or bottom. And I have no doubt it was chosen that way on purpose. I feel sexy just having it on. Natalie fixes my hair and makeup to perfection and makes me promise to relax and have a good time. I guess she knows me better than I thought.

  She assures me that she and Lucas will be fine. And I believe her. Tomorrow she checks into Tranquility, a therapeutic rehab clinic that’s more like a spa than any kind of hospital. So tonight I’m letting her enjoy her time with her son. The next three months aren’t going to be easy. But they’ll definitely be worth it.

  Callan shows up at five minutes till six, looking completely forbidden but undeniably tempting in his black tuxedo. His hair is perfectly tousled. His blue eyes sparkle when he smiles. And my body quivers at the roughness of his jaw when he leans in and whispers against my neck.

  “You look deliciously fuckable.”

  I don’t think I’ll ever stop blushing when he talks to me that way. My gaze falls to my feet, but he lifts my chin with his fingers, looking me in the eye. “I love the way your skin looks when you’re flushed. I can’t wait to see how the rest of your body turns pink when we’re alone again.”

  “So, that’s what you’re into?” The comment is a joke, light-hearted and fun. Because I already know what he’s into. He whispers his secrets in a touch that only my body can hear.

  He grins, tilted and amused. “We’re all into something, beautiful. Some of us are just more honest about it than others.”

  My body thrums with anticipation. I’ve seen glimpses of who he is, of what he likes. But I have a feeling I’ve only scratched the surface.

  ***

  The art gallery is modern, yet classic. With marble floors and glass walls. The windows look out above the busy city while people of all ages and cultures float from room to room, admiring the artistic eye of the featured photographers.

  Callan’s hand falls to the exposed flesh at the small of my back while he leads me through the crowd. I swear electricity surges from his fingertips. Every time he touches me, my entire body hums.

  We stop in front of a mock wall with four large black and white photos arranged in a square. The image of the man on fire catches my attention first.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks me.

  “I’m thinking, why isn’t he helping? Whoever took the picture. How can someone watch without acting?”

  “Not everyone has your heart. The world is an uncomfortable place.”

  “Is that why he took the picture? Is that why it’s plastered on this wall? To show people what kind of world we live in?”

  He moves in behind me and lets his hand rest on my hip as he speaks in my ear.

  “This is the world we live in, Grace. And no, not everyone sees it the way you do— the way I do. Everything in my world is wrong. I’m surrounded by destruction and sadness. You’re the one thing I’ve found that’s right.”

  I don’t know exactly what he means by that, but I do know enough about Callan to know his words aren’t empty. He’s not about flattery or sweet nothings. He’s not made that way. I want to turn around and wrap my arms around him, slip my hands underneath his jacket and clutch his back. As if I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I don’t hold him tight enough.

  “Tell me. About your world.”

  His fingers dig into my flesh, and I can tell this isn’t something he likes to talk about. “It’s dark.”

  “Why?” We’ve danced around the secrets he keeps long enough. I want him to let me in.

  “I live in a world where anyone who can afford war is allowed to wage it.”

  My pulse quickens at his words, but I’m not afraid of him. “Are you one of those people? A war wager?”

  The tip of his nose brushes a trail against my skin. “No. I’m a soldier.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “You’re military?”

  His lips graze the curve of my throat. “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He whispers, almost a growl. “I don’t live by rules, Grace. I make the
m. I’m assigned a mission, and I get it done. That’s all I can tell you. My secrets are mine to keep. Not because I want to hurt you, but because I want to keep you safe.”

  I remember the night at the hotel when he sat down at my table— the way he reacted when I’d told him about going with the missionaries. Now I understand why.

  “My innocence… my inexperience… doesn’t bother you?”

  He chuckles and steps closer until his hard body is pressed firmly against my back. “There’s nothing innocent about what I’m going to do to you.” I gasp a sharp intake of air as his lips brush my neck. “Instinct doesn’t need experience. Like right now. I know you want me to touch you. I know this because even though you pleased me, I left you soaking wet, dripping with need last night. And right now, if I slid my hand underneath this dress, I’d find you the same way.”

  He inhales my scent, like he can smell my arousal. People walk past, smiling and saying hello. Some stop and look at the photographs on the wall, others keep moving, consumed in their own conversations. But none of them, not one, knows the darkness of the things he’s whispering in my ear right now.

  “I want to taste you, Grace. To feel you on my tongue.” It takes all the willpower I can muster not to moan. “Do you want that? To come apart in my mouth?”

  “Yes,” I reply, focusing, but not focusing, on the black and white prints in front of us.

  “Good. Then come home with me.”

  I stumble out of my pleasure-drunk haze. “Now?”

  He smiles and turns me to face him. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Now is all we have.”

  And there it is. The wrecking ball. Crashing into the walls of my heart that he’d slowly been putting back together. It all crumbles to the ground. Shattered. Broken. He’s leaving. And there’s no one to blame but myself. I knew he had to go. I knew he couldn’t stay. He’s here on business. And after tonight, that business is over.

  “Unless you come with me?” he adds with a smirk. “I’m sure Dawie would be thrilled to see you.”

  “You’re going back to South Africa?”

  He nods, and my heart races. The thought of going back there excites me. I missed it before I even left. And if it means being with Callan…

  No. I can’t leave. Natalie is just now getting her life back together. I promised her I’d help with Lucas. I have to make sure she’s okay.

  I look up into his deep blue eyes. “You’re the one thing in all this chaos that makes any sense. But… I can’t. I can’t leave my sister. I can’t give up on her.”

  My heart stops beating while I wait for his answer. He pulls me close and rests his forehead against mine. His peppermint breath dances across my cheek.

  “Then we’ll make it work. Because I can’t give up on you.”

  In that moment, I know. He is my salvation. He is the half that makes me whole. And I’m not ever going to let him go.

  EPILOGUE

  Grace

  Since Natalie’s been here, I’ve spent nearly every other evening at Tranquility. I make a point to stop by on my way home from work, so she doesn’t feel so alone. Lucas isn’t allowed to visit yet, but I’m hoping that changes very soon.

  “How’s she doing?” I ask Natalie’s attending physician.

  “Today was a good day,” Dr. Trujillo answers.

  We didn’t have many of those in the first month, so his words are a breath of fresh air.

  “Can I see her?”

  “Of course.”

  The receptionist smiles a familiar smile as I walk past a large fountain to the inpatient ward of the facility. The smooth sounds of tranquil water bounce off the glass walls of the main area. One of my favorite things about this place is the special attention they give to making everyone under this roof feel as comfortable as possible.

  Natalie waits for me, her legs curled under her as she cozies into the corner of the oversized chair in her room. Her eyes light up with gratitude when my hand pushes away the weight of the heavy wooden door.

  “What? No pizza today?”

  “Rumor has it, your chef is serving filet mignon.”

  After many restless nights and anxious days after she first checked in, I found it was easier to pretend my sister was enjoying the luxurious amenities of a resort away from home rather than completely reprogramming her body and mind to let go of the drugs and alcohol. Natalie caught on and started playing along, and it’s been an ongoing inside joke ever since. Now we’re just two sisters doing what sisters do.

  “Well, my manicurist didn’t show up today, so I could use a little pampering.”

  It’s so good to see her smile. The color is back in her cheeks without the aid of professional makeup, and her figure has started to fill out again. She’s doing great. I’m so proud of her, and I know Mom and Dad would be too. I kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in mine.

  “The minute you get out of here, I promise to spoil you rotten.”

  Her eyes fill with tears as she leans forward and wraps me in a hug. “I never told you thank you. For not saving me that night.”

  I pull my body away from hers to question her with my eyes.

  “I know you went looking for me at the clubs. I know you, Grace.”

  We’ve never talked about that night she showed up at my door. She’s never confessed what happened to open her eyes. A million scenarios have crossed my mind, kept me awake at night, but she’s never confirmed nor denied any of my suspicions.

  “If you’d found me, the cycle would’ve just continued. So, in a way, I’m glad you didn’t,” she says.

  “What happened to you, Nat? What happened that night?”

  I climb into the chair next to her and drape my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t run. She just… holds me back while she collects her thoughts.

  “I was so mad at you. And I ran out of pills. And I didn’t have any money. So… there was this guy I knew… Jake. I’d never gone to see him, but I’d heard about him, you know?” She’s not looking for an answer, so I stay silent and listen. “He gives people stuff… for favors.”

  “It’s okay, Nat. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No. I want to.”

  I pull her closer. If I could open up my chest and let her crawl inside, I would.

  “I went to see him. To get the pills. Only he wasn’t alone. There were three of them. Big guys. They stood in a circle and pushed me back and forth between them, like a rag doll. Then they started throwing things at me. Beer cans, I think. It hurt. I guess. I don’t know.”

  My entire body starts to shake as I weep. I sob for my sister and what she must have been feeling in that moment. How broken she had to have been.

  She clears her throat and presses on. “Then the first one grabbed me and threw me on the couch.”

  Bile rises in my throat as I realize what they’d done to her. I swallow it back along with my tears. I’m no longer sad for my sister. I’m angry. I want to find every last one of those men and make them pay for what they did.

  “Nat. Oh my God, Nat. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  She looks up at me, blinking back unshed tears. I expected to see an empty shell of a woman when my eyes met hers. But, staring back at me is a warrior, fierce and determined. My sister isn’t empty at all. She’s strong. She’s stronger than I could ever hope to be.

  “Don’t be. I got away before—before it went there. It wasn’t completely innocent, but it could’ve been so much worse. You see, by not saving me, you saved me.”

  All this time, I’d felt guilty for not finding her that night. I’d blamed myself for what happened. I’d spent months hating the woman that left her sister behind. In Natalie’s words lie the forgiveness I’d been seeking to move on. In her words, she’s the one who’s saved me.

  ***

  Two months later…

  Natalie has been out of rehab over a month and is doing fantastic. She and Lucas moved into Mom and Dad’s house. She
wanted a fresh start without the watchful eye of judgmental neighbors. Plus, it’s paid for, so there’s no financial burden. Lucas is the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and that keeps my sister motivated. I keep the homemade card he made thanking me for giving him his mom back tucked in my mother’s favorite romance novel for safe keeping. Annette helps keep an eye on him while Nat works. It’s like a well-oiled machine that can only get better with time.

  Over the past five months, Callan has flown to Miami to see me four times, keeping me motivated to follow my heart, and not my obligations, for once. I knew from the moment I met him, where he is, is where I want to be— even if that means going back to South Africa with him. Natalie’s recovery set us back a little while, but that was okay. Because it took about that long for all my paperwork to go through. I have a feeling Callan influenced the process because from what I hear it usually takes almost twice that long.

  I’ve learned things about him, things I doubt many people know. I know about his family and he’s shown me his scars. One by one, Callan reveals his secrets, and every little thing, every tiny detail, makes me fall more and more in love with him.

  During one of his visits, I convinced him to go see Naomi. I knew if they could each just take a moment to see the other one for who they really are, all their differences would be set aside.

  It turned out that once Callan explained everything that happened, Naomi understood why he left Jenna. She even helped him learn the paternity of Jenna’s child—who turned out not to be his son. Naomi still didn’t agree with the things Callan does in his line of work, but she understood why he feels like he has to do them. It’s the same reason she has devoted her life to helping people. That day at his family’s farm changed him. It changed them both. From that moment on, while her purpose was to heal the broken, his purpose was to find justice in the unjust. But they agreed to stop letting their differences come between them. I suppose that comes with maturity— knowing it’s possible to understand something even when you don’t believe it’s right.