What They Never Said

by Avery, Quinn

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. Namely: Looney Tunes, Daffy Duck, Cartier, Facebook, Uber, Chuck Taylor, Musée Mécanique, Laffing Sal, Journey, Standford, Jeep, Colt, San Francisco Giants

  What They Never Said

  Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Naumann writing as Quinn Avery. All rights reserved.

  Previously published as The Secrets Between Us by Jennifer Ann, copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Naumann.

  Cover: Best of You Designs

  www.QuinnAvery.com

  1

  Cameron Quinn was well aware what she was about to do was an unforgivable betrayal to the man she'd promised to be with for the rest of her life. The man she'd one day stand beside in a church packed with friends and family, vowing to devote her eternal love and faithfulness. But she didn't care. None of that was real anyway. And she had to see Lincoln again. After all, she owed him the past seven years of his life.

  Beads of perspiration lined her forehead as she watched the wall of glass windows at the coffee shop’s entrance without blinking, willing the boy she once loved with all her soul to step through the door. Her pulse skipped when she checked her cell phone for the seventh time to confirm it wasn’t yet the time they’d agreed upon.

  She stared at The Grind's logo on the paper cup in front of her with "Quinn" scribbled on the side in black marker. She didn't know what possessed her to use the nickname reserved for Lincoln, except it was useless to shake him from her thoughts since the fateful text that had brought her there.

  Once she’d made the decision to reach out to him, she’d contacted the sister of a friend in college who had recently become a private investigator. Bexley Squires was famous for exposing America’s favorite actor as a serial killer, and worth her weight in gold. In addition to obtaining Lincoln’s cell phone number within an hour of Cameron’s request, Bexley had already provided other information for Cameron that proved to be invaluable.

  Her thumb scrolled over the string of texts she’d exchanged with Lincoln. She started it by asking how he had been. The conversation had remained casual with a polite tone until it ended several days prior with his shocking request.

  I have to see you again. Can we meet?

  The words had scratched at the back of her brain, keeping her awake for a string of endless nights. He was the one who had pushed her away. Why the sudden change of heart? Before she’d agreed to meet with him like he’d asked, she’d played out the different ways the reunion might go, imagined the varying ways he'd look at her, and what he might want to say.

  After high school, he abandoned social media, essentially disappearing off the face of the earth. She didn't exactly know what he would look like by then, although she had a pretty good idea. She'd seen a picture of him taken the day he graduated boot camp, and he probably wouldn't look much different from his brother aside from having more bulk. Sometimes she wished she hadn't come across the picture, because it was hard not to feel a swell of pride seeing him in the navy uniform and white hat, posing somberly in front of the US flag. She had to quickly remind herself that he was no longer hers.

  Movement at The Grind's entrance caught her eye. She sucked in a sharp breath, slowly letting it out as a young couple entered. The guy's arm was slung around his girlfriend's shoulders, and she clung to his wrist, leaning into him. They were both grinning like their life was pure gold, and nothing could bring them down. With a niggling pang of melancholy, Cameron realized she hadn't felt that blissfully happy since high school. Since Lincoln.

  Rubbing at the pale strip of skin on her ring finger, she felt a slight indentation where her three carat diamond belonged. When Pamela noticed she wasn't wearing it before she left the office, Cameron claimed it was getting cleaned. She couldn't tell her friend the truth. If by some miracle Lincoln hadn't heard the news, he wouldn't understand. No one would understand, even if privy to the whole story. Lincoln was always quick to form an opinion based on his emotions. She had to plan it out carefully. As difficult as it would be to break it to him, she had to be considerate, and let him down easy. He deserved that.

  "Quinn?"

  Heat rose in her chest. She twisted around and came into contact with a soft, soulful gaze surrounded by a nest of dark lashes. The honey brown eyes that once possessed her heart were shadowed with wisdom and reverence—maybe even a suggestion of hurt. The way he looked at her, hard and unblinking, she felt her world coming to a screeching halt. All at once she was eighteen again, facing the boy she believed would have her heart until the end of time.

  “Linc." His name fell out as a whisper against her lips, filled with far more sentiment than she should've allowed.

  The moderately shy boy she’d fallen in love with had become a strong, confident man, broad and tall. Agony wrenched her chest when she absorbed every last detail, realizing how much time had passed. Though he wasn't in uniform, everything about him screamed military. There was no hiding his bulging muscles beneath a plain gray t-shirt and cargo shorts as he stood with a large khaki bag slung over one wide shoulder. A well-groomed beard framed his thick jaw, its chocolate-brown shade matching the closely cropped hair on his square head. Both of his thick arms were covered in detailed tattoos.

  A shudder zipped down her spine. He was so...severe looking. She wasn't conscious that she'd frozen on the stool while checking him out until it registered that he was doing the exact same thing to her. His dark eyes thoroughly studied every last inch, soaking in every detail. His gaze felt every bit as physical as a soft caress of fingertips.

  He caught her watching him with her lips parted, and he released a deep, somewhat bashful chuckle. Shivering with the insanely masculine rumble of his voice, she snapped her mouth shut. An awkwardness hung between them as his smile faded.

  He dropped his bag at his feet, and motioned for her to come to him. “Com'ere, you.”

  Varied emotions scratched at her throat when she threw herself into his strong arms, biting back a burst of tears. The aroma of coffee was replaced with his fresh, clean scent. Holding onto the only person she once trusted was the closest feeling to being home she'd known since her family was torn apart. She’d been convinced she'd never feel his embrace again.

  It wasn’t anything like the moments they'd shared as love-struck teenagers, and not just because he was twice as big, or his body was obscenely dense with muscle. She swore she could feel remorse seeping out of him the way he held her. Face buried in the crook of her neck, he cradled her to him like he never planned to let go, expelling air from her lungs. It re
minded her of that Looney Tunes cartoon he'd always watch in which the Abominable Snowman squeezed Daffy Duck, and named him “George.” A bubble of hysteria slipped from her, causing Lincoln to pull back.

  "That's not the kind of reaction I was expecting," he said with a sexy-as-hell grin.

  "Me neither." She laughed nervously, releasing him to dab at the corners of her eyes. "You look great, Linc. How was your flight?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "It was short...hardly got in the air before we got ready to land."

  "I half expected you to be in uniform."

  "Nah, that makes us too easy of a target for the bad guys." His unreadable gaze lingered on her a beat longer than felt comfortable. When his tongue appeared to wet his lips, her heart skipped erratically. That tongue once had the power to both lift her up and destroy her all at once.

  He tore his gaze away to the busy shop, rubbing at one of his biceps like he felt a sudden chill. "How long has this place been open?"

  Her throat thickened. He’d missed out on so much. The neighborhood had changed, and the friends they went to high school with had moved away. "A few years."

  His big brown eyes flickered back to her. There was a time she'd do anything to feel the warmth of his gaze, because those were the rare occasions in which she believed she was loved unconditionally by someone—anyone—since Rebecca, her own mother, was too stoned to care about anything more than her next fix.

  "You seem...different," he told her, his tone weighted with regret.

  Part of her wanted to leap back into his arms, and assure him that she was still the same girl who’d sneak into his room, and watch scary movies under the covers where the rest of the world didn't exist. She was still the same "Quinn" he took care of after her first Crestridge homecoming, and comforted after her world fell apart the night of their senior prom. Not much about her had changed since she’d been an eighteen-year-old who promised to love him forever.

  Holding her head high, she smiled. "Can I get you something? Their cappuccinos are pretty legendary."

  His thick Adam's apple bobbed as he looked away again, scratching the back of his head. "Is High Top's still open? I've only been back a few days and could really go for a good ol' American craft beer."

  "Lincoln. It's two in the afternoon."

  His eyebrows lifted playfully. "So? It's Friday. And I'm still coming off of Middle Eastern time. Don't you drink anymore?"

  The memory of the last time they got drunk together sent a deep ache spiraling though her chest. They'd ditched a friend's party early and went back to his parents' guest house to fool around. They’d held each other until the sun came up while whispering hopeful wishes for their future.

  Even if neither of them were to mention the past, there was no chance they wouldn't revisit it with everything they said. The best days of her life were spent with a younger version of the beautiful man at her side. Every day since he'd left, something reminded her of what they had. What he threw away.

  "What are you afraid of?" he asked with a teasing grin. "Breaking curfew?"

  It was another nod to happier days. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief, she realized he’d done it on purpose. He was always quick to throw her a challenge, push her beyond her comfort zone because she didn't fit in with the other kids. Yet he was the one who had to be coaxed into walking on the wild side, like the time they set off fireworks outside Sadie Emory's house, and the night all his friends decided to skinny dip in his parents' pool.

  She was terrified that was how it would begin, that every memory would unravel a piece of her until she became a raw bundle of exposed nerves. Glancing down at her phone, she let out an indecisive sigh. She'd picked the popular coffee shop because it was always packed with customers. High Top's was lucky to have a dozen patrons on their busiest nights, and the dark bar was filled with quiet corners that allowed far too much privacy. Caffeine was harmless. Alcohol led to confessions of oppressed feelings.

  But Kellen wouldn't be back from his business trip until Monday night, and there was virtually no chance any of their friends would be at High Top's or anywhere in that part of the city. Plus she could really use a drink to take the edge off. At least maybe then her hands would stop trembling.

  "Fine, let's go," she decided, throwing him a playful eye-roll. "I'm parked out back."

  Swiping her purse from the back of the stool, she waited for him to throw his bag over his shoulder before following him to the exit. She stopped to toss her cup in the trash on the way out and found him waiting, door held open. After she stepped onto the sidewalk, he pressed his fingertips against the small of her back, and held his other arm out to shield her from a wild group of kids passing on skateboards.

  Her cheeks heated. The military had made a real gentleman out of the gangly teenager who was somewhat shy about introducing himself the first time they met. How many women had he wooed into his bed over the last seven years? With the thought, her stomach twisted. It wouldn't take much beyond his impressive muscles, a flash of his bright white teeth, and the sensual rumble of his voice. She bet they were always lined up outside his door. With a body like that, she imagined he was never alone. She was thankful for the cool breeze that whipped her hair over her face, hiding her flushed cheeks.

  “Do you still live around here?" he asked as they made their way around the corner of the building.

  He hadn't asked a lot of questions when they exchanged texts. He undoubtedly would've changed his mind about the meeting if he'd been privy to Cameron's whole story. She knew there was a good chance she'd be forced to expose more of herself than she'd like, especially once drinks were involved.

  "I moved up to Mission Bay last year," she said, barely catching herself before she slipped and said "we."

  "You should've told me. I could've flown into the city so you didn't have to drive down here." His words came out clipped with irritation.

  Wondering if it was the moment he'd let loose of his repressed issues, she flattened a hand over her stomach. At least then she'd have some answers. "I figured you'd be coming down here to stay with your family." She glanced back at him as his thick eyebrows lowered.

  "I don't have anything to do with my family these days."

  Dropping her gaze to the well-maintained pavers, her breath hitched. She was well aware he hadn’t been in touch with his brother, but she didn't realize he wasn't talking to his parents either. A wave of disappointment stirred in her, building until the pressure was too much to take.

  "God, Linc, I'm so sorry. Everything you've gone through with them is my fault."

  Lincoln's massive hand covered her wrist, pulling her to a stop. Briefly taking in the small sailboat tattooed just below the palm of her hand in honor of her dad's memory, he sighed. "Don't go there. I made the decisions that led me down this path, and my relationship with my old man was shit long before you came along. Besides, if I hadn't joined the military, I wouldn't have become the man standing in front of you."

  She met his determined expression, melting a little. Or maybe dying a little. Although she never asked him to save her, she could've stopped him and it would've changed everything. She had asked herself a thousand times why she hadn’t stepped in, and owned up to what she’d done. Then she'd remember how he had silently implored her to stay quiet that night. It was the same dire way he looked at her before their first kiss, when it felt like he was asking to be her world.

  His fingertips moved up her wrist, lightly stroking her forearm until her nerves were encased in flames. Despite everything they had been through, she still wanted him.

  "I'm here because I screwed up,” he admitted. “I shouldn't have shut you out the way I did. I should've reached out to you sooner." His thick lips bent slightly with a slow yet brilliant smile, blinding her with teeth so white they could’ve been in a toothpaste ad. "I've missed the hell outta you, Quinn.”

  The words from his text raced through her mind: I have to see you again.

  Maybe there was a
chance he still loved her back.

  2

  Familiarity hit Lincoln Farrington deep and hard with every flash of the sparkling pools of blue beneath dense eyelashes. He’d missed those eyes to the point of hysteria. Time did nothing to ease the hurt of losing Cameron, or erase the regret of cutting all ties with her after he enlisted. But he hadn’t been able to lie to her anymore, and she would’ve hated him if he’d told her everything. Leaving her behind was his only option. Once he’d decided to become a SEAL and immersed himself into training, it became easier to stay away.

  Seeing Cameron as a grown woman magnified the sting a thousandfold. Her face had thinned, bringing out her sharp cheekbones and big, bright eyes. She was shorter than he remembered, just barely reaching his shoulder. The way she was curved and tight in all the right places, he guessed she was either a runner, or loyal to a gym. In high school, she’d kept her ash blond hair shoulder-length. Now her silky tresses were dyed a rich shade of honey, and extended halfway down her back.

  Once in route to High Top's in her little sedan, his anxiety grew. He was only back for a few days, not long enough to reignite something that may not even still be there. Besides, there was no way someone so beautiful and sweet was single. But he did notice before she hugged him that her ring finger was bare. He hoped it didn’t mean she was with some schmuck who didn’t know how good he had it. She deserved better—far better than what Lincoln could offer. Between her pretty sky-blue blouse with fluttering sleeves she wore with crisp white shorts, and the year-old car she drove, he wondered if she’d found someone. She even somehow smelled rich, like the mystical floral scent that hung in the perfume section of a high-end department store.