Every Last Secret

by Christa Wick

  "You belong with your family, not with me."

  I shake my head. I spent eight years away from my family. Maddy is the one I want to be with.

  "I love you," I rasp, my voice scraping with emotion as I realize for the first time just how deep the words run. I thought I understood its contours with the death of my father and sister. But there are new levels of pain here.

  "You shouldn't." The laugh that leaves Maddy is almost cruel, its cutting edge softened only by my belief that she really is trying hard not to hurt me.

  She hurts me all the same.

  "I can't love you back," she says. "But I care enough not to burden you with a relationship between us, however temporary."

  My hands slide behind me. I want to wrap them around her shoulders, or use one to force her to meet my gaze. How can she do this without looking at me?

  "Don't lie and say you can't love anyone."

  I snap my mouth shut, my throat convulsing in an effort to puke out more words.

  She sits there, passive as she draws slow breaths. Her lips part, close. That one shoulder lifts.

  "Half a dozen doctors have denied my request to be sterilized."

  The shocking words slip from Maddy in a whisper. My mind reels with the revelation and the question of why she would seek such a thing.

  She lifts her head at last and nails me with that topaz gaze. "They think they know better than me. I'm too young, too healthy. No man will want to marry me if I do it, at least if I tell the truth about having it done."

  With a snort and a wave, she pushes all their advice to the side.

  "My conclusion is that doctors are fucking idiots."

  Grabbing the pillow, she squeezes it to her body as tears begin to slide down her rounded cheeks. I stay glued to the wall. Trying to touch her now will only send Maddy running.

  "Caiden couldn't stand anyone holding him his first few months. Delia and Ken would pick him up and he would start screaming. He lost weight until she gave up trying to breastfeed and started standing over his bassinet with a bottle, not touching him while he drank."

  When Maddy starts to rock, I can't stop myself. I make my way in painful jerks to her side and squeeze her in a bear hug. She goes stiff, but I don't release my hold on her.

  "Then someone suggested swaddling him. Wrapping him tightly. It worked. I didn't hold him before then because I was afraid I would hold him too tightly. Even then, I barely touched him until he was a toddler."

  "Maddy, love…" I press my face against her neck, throw a leg across her lap to weigh her down. "You are all I need."

  She presses on as if I'm not holding her, not uttering reassurances and unspoken promises.

  "Caiden will make it because he has Delia…because his brain is still being programmed. He is told and shown a hundred times a day that he is loved. Can you imagine if I have a child like me?"

  A picture flashes in my mind—fiery hair, a serious, golden gaze that shines with its own light, freckles, a whimsical pucker of plump lips and round cheeks on a child that only stands hip high.

  "Even if it is neurotypical, what happens when it feels like its own mother doesn't give a shit? Like its mother is some robot programmed to say 'I love you' but never certain when the words are supposed to be spoken?"

  She looks up at me, cheeks wet, eyes imploring me to live up to my MacGyver reputation and fix what is broken.

  "You would know when to tell the baby you love her."

  Her head tilts. The smile that flashes is heartbroken, not relieved.

  "You're wrong. I can't even tell you."

  Carefully, she unties the knot of limbs I have made around her. She eases my leg off her thighs, displaces the diagonal slash of my arm across her torso.

  "Go home, Sutton," she pleads before slipping out of the room. "You never should have come."

  18

  Maddy

  I am hollow by the time I reach my hotel room. Hollow skin, hollow bones. My footsteps make no sound in the hallway or the elevator. My card key produces the barest whisper as it slides through the reader. Even the click that unlocks the door seems muted.

  My phone buzzes. Praying it's not Sutton, I risk a glance.

  Rendezvous in Bellingham. Strong sense it's for a big buy. Lobby 40 minutes with all your gear.

  Sinking onto the mattress, I acknowledge that I will be there on time with all my stuff. I could meet him now, everything is packed and waiting by the door. But I need time alone after spilling my guts to Sutton.

  Laboring over to the bag, I open a side pocket and pull out a travel-sized sewing kit. I remove one needle then place the kit on the dresser. Next, I open the portable med-kit and remove two antiseptic wipes, a bandage, and some anti-bacterial ointment. The last thing I grab is a lighter.

  The outfit I wear is casual, meant for the field surveillance we are doing. Jeans, running shoes, a long-sleeved, but lightweight, cotton top. I drop the jeans and angle my right leg until the toe of my sneaker presses straight down at the carpet and the whole of my thick calf is facing up at me.

  Holding the needle to the flame, I watch as the metal begins to glow.

  So much time has passed since I have done this. The last time was the day before Adler and Sage's wedding when Emerson told me I would be his plus one at the ceremony and reception, my presence intended solely as a cushion between his private life and any dire calls from the Billings office.

  Certain the event would be painful and beyond awkward, I didn't want to go. I put on my plainest suit, the beige one that made my skin look like pale mud and muted the red of my hair. I went with a bare face and tried to hide at the back.

  Sutton noticed me anyway, noticed me despite the beautiful and vibrant women who filled the hall. From that day until now, I haven't touched needle to flame.

  Maybe it was because I saw the spark in his gaze even then. I know I felt my own and hoped for the first time in my life that this could be it, that he could be my way out of the gray fog that presses around me. Even as broken as his body was that day, he was stronger than me. I could see in Sutton's gaze that he would keep getting stronger

  And he has. But his strength hasn't lessened my weakness.

  I kill the flame on the lighter. The needle is sanitized and, more importantly, searingly hot. I consider my calf for the time it takes to blink then slowly bury the first inch of the needle into my flesh.

  Nerves scream. I grit my teeth, bite my bottom lip, inhale once and hold until the riot of sensations stop. When they do, I release the breath and flick the lighter again before slowly withdrawing the needle from my calf.

  Thirty-five minutes remain before I have to meet Emerson in the lobby.

  It's time enough.

  For now.

  19

  Sutton

  Maddy leaves the hotel with Emerson an hour after she walks out of my room. I know because they are standing near the front entrance, their bags shouldered, as I open the stairwell door on the ground floor. I immediately step back and duck out of view. After a quick downward tug on the ball cap I wear, I peek through the small pane of glass on the door.

  Even before I spotted Maddy standing next to Emerson, my gut was churning like a cement mixer. Yet she stands straight, perfectly composed. There is an almost dreamy quality to her expression. No one would ever guess she was in my room this morning, hugging a pillow while she tore my heart out.

  I can't even tell you…

  Scowling, I go up one flight and sit on the stairs, my overnight bag taking up the space next to me. I don't want to think about what she said, don't want the words replaying over and over in my mind.

  First, she said she didn't love me, couldn't love me.

  But then she switched right before the end to saying she couldn't tell me she loved me. Now, such a short time later, she is acting like we never talked at all.

  Is there a chance for Maddy and me?

  I want there to be, but I don't think there is. There's no way there can be a ch
ance with her wearing that serene expression right now.

  It's like she eliminated a problem—me—and now she's happy.

  Head hanging, I wait a few more minutes until the coast is clear then slink from the hotel to the airport. I scour the faces around me as I buy a ticket back to Billings. For all I know, my brother and Madigan are catching a flight of their own.

  I reach my departure gate. It's a ghost town. There will be more cargo than passengers on the plane. That suits me just fine. I don't want conversation, don't want to meet anyone's gaze.

  The flight is canceled. I find another one and pace restlessly through the terminal in a two-hour layover in Missoula.

  My drive home, once I reach Billings, is in the dark. I stumble through my house with the lights still off and collapse onto my bed without removing any clothes. I can't remember how long it has been since I last slept past daybreak, but I do this time.

  My phone rings a little before eight the next morning. The brand new air conditioner at the clinic isn't working and the installation company cannot swing by for another three days. I agree to check it out, not because I want to or am happy to help, but because people expect me to. If I don't, I can expect multiple lines of interrogation on my physical and mental wellbeing.

  The week passes with me wanting to be alone, but being dragged into one task after another. I fix one of the ranch's ATVs, replace a garage door opener and a laundry list of other items. As I work around the ranch, Mama feeds me snippets of where Emerson is. The target seems to be leading him and Maddy on a merry chase from Seattle to Bellingham to somewhere down the Oregon coast on a boat.

  Nursing my wounds, I make a pretense of being interested.

  The first bright spot after leaving Seattle is the trip with Delia and Caiden to Aunt Dotty's on Saturday. By the time the sun sets, we have two fine geodes and more than a pound of arrowheads. One geode is banded agate the size of a baseball. The other looks remotely like a football split in half, its innards a riot of purple shards of amethyst.

  I drop the boy and his mother at the ranch with promises of riding lessons in the morning. I go home alone, my steps carrying me through the front door and straight to my home gym. I don't stop to check my email or the posts on social media. I know there is no message from Madigan.

  She can't tell me she loves me because she doesn't.

  The last thing I do before collapsing onto the bed is set an alarm. Sleep comes quickly. If I dream, I don't remember anything when I wake up.

  Knowing Mama will have a big breakfast going because Delia and Caiden spent the night at the ranch, I grab a quick shower, jump in my truck and head for my favorite kitchen in all the world.

  The first sign that the day is going to be full of trouble greats me at the door. Leah, my sweet little Honey Bee, is wearing her riding outfit. Her rounded chin is lifted and an accusation haunts her green eyes.

  I pick her up.

  "Leah, this is Caiden's first lesson…"

  I trail off as she turns her head to stare away from me. She wasn't even two-years-old when her mother died, but the gesture is so like Dawn's that it sends a painful spike through my chest.

  "This is a safety rule, Honey Bee."

  Her chin lifts higher.

  "You and I will go riding tomorrow."

  She shifts her weight so that she is both looking and leaning away from me.

  "Are you Caiden's uncle now?"

  She whispers the question, the muted tone another layer of accusation.

  I jostle the toddler around in my arms until she would have to be an owl to entirely avoid my gaze.

  "I am your uncle, Leah."

  "And the stupid baby's when he comes," she mumbles.

  "And the baby's," I agree.

  "And the stupid Caiden—"

  "Stop right there." I stand her on the ground and kneel in front of her. "You don't use that language, not when you're talking about the baby or Caiden or anyone else. Do you understand?"

  Jaw set, she shakes her head.

  Stubborn, like her mother. I see so much of Dawn inside her. It makes the entire family want to spoil Leah, to keep her little and safe for as long as we can. But she still has rules to follow.

  "Leah, you have a big family and every last one of us loves you. Your father, five uncles, three aunts, Gam-Gam Lindy and Great Aunt Dotty. And that's not even close to the end of all the people." I continue on, naming my cousins, their parents, the stable hands, Betty Rae and every other lady in Mama's planning committee who dotes on the little girl.

  "And the baby," I finish. "Sage's baby is going to love you something fierce."

  Her throat bobs with a hard swallow.

  "The baby will love me, too?"

  "Something fierce," I repeat, giving her a tight hug. Mercifully, she hugs me back and plants a light kiss on my cheek.

  "Will you be my Fairy Girl today and my riding partner tomorrow?"

  This time, her head jackhammers up and down before she dashes out of my arms and toward her room, presumably to change into proper fairy attire.

  "Maddy said you were great with kids."

  I stiffen, both at the name mentioned and at being caught off guard. With only two years away from combat, no one around here should be able to sneak up on me.

  "She said," Delia continues, "if anyone can help, it's Sutton."

  Nodding, I try to keep Maddy out of my head. I want a nice day and another night of sleep that is not more tossing and turning than actual sleeping.

  I push to my feet. "Smells like breakfast is about ready. Caiden in the kitchen?"

  "Yes. He took one smell of your mother's cooking and sat himself in front of a plate with a fork in one hand and a table knife in the other. I swear, after seeing him eat dinner last night, I'm starting to think he just doesn't like my cooking."

  She laughs, but there's a wiggle of self-doubt that moves across her face.

  "Won't he grow out of some of the sensory issues?"

  She shrugs, then tries to shake off the sudden change in her mood.

  "Maddy didn't."

  Her face changes yet again, this time a look of horror flashing as she looks around to see if anyone is within listening distance.

  "I shouldn't have said that."

  "Didn't hear a thing," I say, wrapping a hand around her shoulder and steering her toward the kitchen and a different topic of conversation. "We'll start the lessons by Caiden making friends with Julep, that's the horse he'll ride today. But then we will move on to a dummy with a saddle while I show him how to control the horse with the reins and his posture while he's in the saddle. Then some time in the riding ring. With the way the wind is up, it's not a good idea to take a beginning rider out in the field, so we'll see how the weather is when the time comes."

  "I'm really nervous about this…"

  I give her shoulder a squeeze as we enter the kitchen. Fortunately, Mama's got her gaze on the bacon she's crisping, so she doesn't have a chance to spot the gesture and misinterpret it.

  After sliding a chair out for Delia, I join Mama at the stove. She hands me the tongs and pecks my cheek before pulling some biscuits out of the oven.

  Adler enters via the side door that leads to a wing of guest rooms. He grabs a tray and puts it on the side counter then hunts down two plates, two glasses and two sets of silverware.

  "Sage okay?" Mama asks, worry tinting the question.

  "Bit of a backache," he answers as I place some of the less crispy pieces of bacon on the plates he holds.

  A gurgle from the back of Mama's throat signals a deeper worry.

  "You should probably stay close to home today."

  Adler lifts both brows at Mama's suggestion. Sage is due next week, not today. And, right now, he's got a busted fence, two missing cows and a field of cattle acting nervous.

  "Might not be a bad idea," I interject. "Way the wind is up, dogs won't be any good at tracking. Horses will be more skittish, too."

  "We've got good tracks righ
t now. And it's just a mild backache," he assures us. "Sage said she will be fine. So will the horses."

  Managing the loaded tray, Adler kisses Mama's cheek.

  The worry remains stamped on her face as he pushes through the swinging door and disappears. As the door comes to a stop, she heaps scrambled eggs into a bowl and mutters under her breath.

  "A backache isn't always a backache, especially when you're that pregnant."

  20

  Sutton

  A few minutes past eleven, Royce runs over to the riding ring, arms flapping and waving. I grab a handful of the rein along the side of Caiden's horse and hold tight in case the animal or boy spooks.

  "Your mama was calling you."

  I shrug. I turned the phone off before I put Caiden on the nine-hundred-pound mare. Teaching an adult to ride is dangerous enough. I don't need any distractions when I'm teaching a child, especially one like Caiden.

  "Sage doesn't have a backache," he says, his voice bordering on shouting.

  The spectacle of the easygoing Royce turning into an arm-waving maniac would be funny if it weren't for the boy sitting astride Julep.

  "She's having contractions!"

  I lead the mare over to the platform.

  "Sorry, Sarge, we need to take a break."

  Caiden swings his leg over the saddle and steps onto the platform. Leaving him there with Delia, I lead Julep over to the gate where Royce waits.

  "I'm guessing you can't reach Adler?"

  "Or the doctor!"

  I'm not worried—not yet. Right now, I'm amused. Royce has to have assisted in the delivery of at least a hundred foals. For a time, he played midwife to racehorses in Kentucky. Those were million-dollar foals, sometimes more.

  And here Royce is sweating bullets, pupils pulsing wildly, and his arms flailing, because of one tiny baby signaling he is ready to be born.

  Standing outside the ring, her hand firmly capturing Caiden's shoulder, Delia offers a polite cough.