by Wood, Vivian
Dirty Little Secret
Vivian Wood
Contents
Author’s Copyright
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
About Vivian Wood
Author’s Copyright
Copyright Vivian Wood 2019
May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
I owe so many thank yous to so many people for this book. To the usual crew — Chele, Shelly, Patricia, and Gemma. Without you guys there would literally be no book.
To Roxie , for helping with the first chapter and generally just being a good sounding board.
To Becca, you bright, beautiful creature. Sometimes I just need someone to care about the stupid insecurities I have about this job, and Becca does that all with aplomb. (That was my SAT word for the day.)
Thank you endlessly, everyone! <3
Here’s the Spotify link to the DLS playlist!
Chapter One
Aiden
“Hey.”
I crack my eyes open to find Eve coming to sit next to me. She’s holding two cups and offers one to me. I take it, but the last thing I need right now is caffeine. I’m already so jittery.
Jittery and a little heartbroken.
“Thanks,” I mutter. Looking at her out of the corner of my eyes, I try to figure out how I should feel right now. After all, Eve is the good kid, always getting straight As and all the parental praise. I’m her mirror opposite, the black sheep. A blot of dark ink staining the white page of our family tree.
Even though she’s eight years younger than me, right now I’m relying on her for how I should behave. Her eyes are puffy, her nose pink. As if she’s just been crying or is just about to burst into tears at any moment.
She sets her coffee on the ground, below her hard plastic bucket chair. We’ve been sitting in these chairs, in the dimly lit hallway, for what feels like weeks. In reality though, it’s only been a few days.
I feel the urge for a whiskey keenly. I glare up at the long tracts of fluorescent lighting. Everything in this damn hospital is so shiny and yet so drab, squeaky clean white and somehow tinged with a hint of gray at the same time.
Shooting me an empty smile, Eve nods toward the wall opposite us. In the falling evening light, the wall has the balls to be lined with tacky glittery cards wishing the hospital patients well. It’s nearly as bad as the other wall, which has inspirational quotes from all different faiths cut out of faded construction paper.
“What do you think that even means?” she says, nodding to the card right in front of us. “The body may suffer, but love is eternal.”
I sigh, shaking my knee. “I don't know. At least it doesn’t say thoughts and prayers. Almost all of the other cards seem to think that is meaningful in some way. And that’s not even counting the religious version. Apparently Jesus is waiting to take the suffering into his arms. Sounds creepy.”
Eve rolls her eyes a little at my joke. “Don’t be an ass. Families that are religious need comfort too, you know. Just because we weren’t raised believing doesn’t mean that no one was.”
I let out a snort. “How are we supposed to be comforted? Mom is dying. It’s a pretty permanent condition.”
Eve looks at me for a long second, her green eyes boring into my face. She has this way of being able to see past my bullshit, which is not exactly among my favorite things about her. Along with a haughtiness and her need to correct everything everyone says, it’s good thing I only see her in times like these.
“I’m glad to know that you haven’t changed at all since you moved out to the west coast,” she says. “You still think you’re funny.”
I shoot her a glare. That stings. I feel like she knew it would.
She sighs and pulls out her phone. She makes a face and then hits a few buttons.
I crook an eyebrow. “Really? Your mom is dying of pancreatic cancer and your friends are still pelting you with news?”
She shoots me a glare. “It was an email from my college, if you must know. But yes, my friends are checking up on me and offering their condolences.”
Sitting back, I feel disgruntled. “Condolences. That has lost all meaning to me. Just look at this wall in front of us. It’s nothing but condolences and talk of how faith will guide our loved ones into their eternal rest. It’s such a crock of bullshit.”
Eve’s lips twist. “They are there for people who believe.”
Ignoring that, I look at my watch. “Do you know where Dad is?”
She stiffens a little. “No.”
She doesn’t like being the only one that still talks to Dad, but Dad holds the purse strings. For someone still in the last semester of college, that puts her in a weird position. I eye Eve.
“No doubt he’s drowning his sorrows in booze and expensive call girls. Or maybe he has a new secretary that’s holding his attention. Anything to not be here, right?”
Eve looks down at her Styrofoam cup. “I’m not interested in playing his defender, Aiden. I may not hate him as much as you do, but… I don't have warm and fuzzy feelings about him either.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out, giving Eve a look as I do. It’s a text from Grayson about how he and Olivia are both thinking of me. I know that my best friend means well, but reading the words just makes me feel numb inside.
That’s a whole barrel of snakes that I’m not really ready to deal with just yet. Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone back in my jeans.
Eve sips her coffee with a vaguely amused look. “It seems like someone is checking up on you too.”
Sighing, I lean back, sprawling out a little bit. There is no one else in this hallway except the nurses at a station at the end. It’s still and silent.
“Grayson,” I admit begrudgingly. “He was just texting that he and Olivia are keeping me in their thoughts.”
Eve looks thoughtful. “Olivia’s his little sister?”
I picture Olivia, with her soft dark hair and her timid smile. It makes my lips lift. “Yeah. You guys would’ve met at that fourth of July barbecue party that I took you to a year ago.”
Eve doesn’t pull a single fucking punch. “Ohhh. She was the one you were flirting with
all night?”
I look at her, my annoyance clear on my face. “I think you’re thinking of someone else.”
“No. I remember her. She was a pretty brunette and she blushed at everything you said in her direction. And because you are Dad’s son, you ate it up.” Her lips quirk. “Grayson would be smart to watch you.”
I cross my arms. “Are you trying to be a pain in the ass right now, Eve?”
“No. Just telling the truth. Or am I predicting the future?”
I narrow my eyes. Eve of all people knows that I have spent my whole life hearing that I’m bad.
Bad at school.
Bad at staying calm.
Bad at being faithful to one person.
And Eve is always posed at the other end of the spectrum, the good little girl to my rebellious bad kid. She usually resents the label more than anything, but I guess today she’s just being a priss.
Granted, neither of us is at our best today. Not with our mom dying in the room beyond.
A light starts flashing outside Mom’s room. I sit up a little straighter, gripping my coffee cup. Overhead, there is an announcement pumped through unseen speakers.
“Code blue, room 220. Code blue, room 220.”
Fuck. Is this it?
This can't be it.
I’m not ready.
Eve slips her hand into mine, gripping it hard. I rise out of my seat, unsure what to do. My mom’s room is a sterile environment, requiring everyone who enters or exits to be wearing a gown and a mask. Three doctors clad in white coats come running down the empty hallway, intent upon entering Mom’s room. One of them is my mom’s main oncologist Dr. Erslinger, a tough, no nonsense type of woman.
I’ve never seen Dr. Erslinger run before. That can't be a good sign.
They rip open the door and go in, putting masks on as they do. I get a glimpse of Mom as the door shuts; pale, limp, surrounded by tubes and beeping machines as she lies on the hospital bed.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I’m not ready. I’m not.
Eve tugs me back down to her level, forcing me to sit down. I look at her, wondering how the fuck she can be calm right now. But when I look at her face, all the color has been leeched from it. Her eyes are fixed on the door and they are slowly filling with tears.
She’s not calm. She’s petrified.
As another doctor comes down the hallway, I wave an arm at him. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
The doctor pauses by the door, glancing in the window. “I think Mrs. Moreland is in acute respiratory distress. That means—”
“She can’t breathe,” my sister cuts him off. She sounds hostile, even for a person with tears in her eyes. “Give us some damned credit.”
Bowing his head, the doctor turns and pushes Mom’s door open. As he is about to go inside, Dr. Erslinger comes out, tearing off her mask. The doctor is probably in her sixties, her blonde hair gone mostly silver. As she starts to speak, I feel Eve grab onto my arm, as if she’s holding onto a life raft in the middle of the sea.
The doctor hesitates a beat. “The alarm you just heard was fairly serious. Your mother had trouble breathing. As you know, your mother’s cancer has spread to nearly everywhere inside her body, including the liver. She’s in acute liver failure. Based on my observations, I believe that your mother will not be with us for much longer. I would say perhaps a day, maybe less.”
Eve immediately bursts into tears, burying her head against my shoulder. I tear up too, but I force myself to control it, putting my arm around my sister.
But inside, I’m awash with sickness. I’m nauseated at the thought that I’m going to have to sit here and do nothing while my mother dies.
“Thank you,” I say, bowing my head briefly.
Eve sobs as she leans against me. And I just hold her up, my stomach roiling.
“I should call Dad,” I say, but I make no attempt to move.
She sniffles, sucking in a breath. “I can’t believe we’re going to have to call him back to his dying wife’s bedside.”
Dr. Erslinger clears her throat. “Mrs. Moreland would like to see you, Aiden.”
I feel like I’m made of lead. “Me? Alone?”
Dr. Erslinger gives me a look that’s conciliatory. “Yes. Eve, I was wondering if you would come down to the nurse’s station with me just to go over some details? It’ll only take a minute.”
“No,” Eve says, shaking her head. “Whatever Mom has to say, she can tell both of us.”
I give her an odd look. “I think Mom can ask for whatever she wants today, Eve.”
Eve doesn’t respond right away. Then she actually hits me, curls up her fist and drives it into my arm. “Fuck you, Aiden. She always did like you better. I would think that you would try to show me some compassion right now.”
My jaw clenches. Does my sister not remember that my mom’s death affects me too? I breathe out slowly. “Go with the doctor, Evie.”
Eve and I stare each other down for a second, then she sniffs and unwinds herself from me. She stands up. “Sure.”
As Eve and the doctors drift off down the hall, I stare at my mom’s door. Getting up, I go over to the heavy wooden door, knocking on it gently. I open the door and see my mom there on the bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. The sun is shining and the blinds are pulled back from the windows.
It’s almost distracting enough that I don’t notice that my mother has a dozen tubes and IV drips running down to her fragile arms. She’s looking severely jaundiced, worse than she was this morning even.
“Mom?”
She blinks, opening her eyes. She reaches up and touches her purple head wrap. “Aiden, yes. Come here, please. And shut the door behind you.”
Like a robot, I do as she says. I’m aware that I haven’t been alone with her in a couple of years, especially not while she’s been in the hospital. I feel like I’m totally out of my depth here.
I also feel like a shitty son for not visiting Mom more. It’s weird to focus on myself when my mom is dying though so I just cram it down inside and try to compartmentalize it. Coming over to her bedside, I pull up a heavy chair.
She looks almost translucent beneath the yellow of her skin, and more wan than I have ever seen her. Her hair and eyebrows have faded away, eyelashes too. When she smiles at me, I can see the pain in her eyes. She draws a long breath.
“Aiden.” She reaches her hand out to me and I hasten to fill it with my own. When I grip her hand, she smiles. “I have something to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to let me get this out.”
My stomach sinks. A deathbed confession? That can’t be good.
Hopefully she has secretly been stealing money from Dad for the last thirty years. But if that’s what she has to tell me, why not let Eve into the room too?
I lick my lips nervously, not knowing how to respond.
My mom closes her eyes. “When you were little, I imagined that I would tell you when you were older. But time just flies by, doesn’t it?”
My heart pounds but I maintain my composure. “Yes.”
“When I was twenty years old, I married your father.” She hesitates, opening her eyes. “But I spent the summer before that on the west coast, near Seattle. I worked for a wealthy family there named the Morgans. I became infatuated for a time with the oldest son, Thomas.” She stops, drawing another breath. “I left the west coast suddenly, without ever saying goodbye. I met and married your father two months after that.”
I’m quiet, trying to do the math in my head of what she actually means. She squeezes my hand, drawing my gaze to her.
“I suspect that your biological father is Thomas Morgan, not Michael Moreland.”
Her words send me into a kind of shock. What the hell is she talking about?
“Mom…” I shake my head, then look over at the morphine drip attached to her arm. “That’s… you’re not thinking right. The meds the doctors have you on…”
She clutches at my hand. “I�
�m making sense, Aiden. It’s important that you listen to me. This could be the last time I have the chance to talk to you like this.”
“Mom…” I start, feeling anger rising inside me like a tidal wave. “You’re saying that my dad isn’t my dad?”
She nods, her chin wobbling. “Yes.”
A sense of betrayal slithers low in my belly. I’m not just angry, I feel… disgusted by her.
My lip curling, I rip my hand out from hers. “He beat me black and blue, Mom! Every fucking day! And you just let him.” I rise, pointing at her. “You watched him beat me and tell me I was stupid. He made my childhood hell! And now you’re telling me that he wasn’t even my real dad?” I start seeing red. “All that time, you could’ve told me! And yet, instead of letting me go to… whatever… you just sat and let me get my ass beat?”
“I’m sorry,” my mom says, feebly trying to reach for me. “You don't understand…”
“No. I definitely don't understand,” I say. My hands are shaking. I’m picturing my dad leaning over me, pressing the buckle of his belt against my tear stained face. Whispering that I deserve what he’s about to do to me… Then he raises the belt and brings it down full force across my back, causing me to cry out.
A sob rises from Mom’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Aiden…”
The crack of that belt hitting my flesh rings through my memory. I grit my teeth. A tear slips down my face.