The Secret (Magnolia Grove #4)

by J. B. McGee

  “Give them some time.”

  I nod, but the reality is three strikes, you’re out. I tried.

  I’m done.

  At some point, I have to accept there’s no secret planet for Cammie and me. She doesn’t hold extra oxygen for me. I’ve been drifting farther away from her, my own supply depleting, and tonight I sucked in the last breath, and with it, the last hope there could ever be an us.

  The last hour has been one of the longest of my life. The mind is a funny thing. It’s amazing how many insane scenarios it can create when it’s missing all the details surrounding an event. If I hadn’t been through the worst cases of those situations, I’d probably have more hope for the best. But in both cases, things were so much worse than what they seemed—Vi and my father.

  I’m officially off from my shift. When I got back in my car, I contemplated trying to call Cammie’s parents, but I know from previous experience they aren’t answering my calls. And Wells apparently isn’t going to, either. There aren’t any missed calls or texts despite reaching out to him earlier. I could message him, but I’m not sure it would matter. Instead, I figure I’ll try it from Cammie’s phone when I get to her room.

  Cutting my cell back off to save on battery, I put it in one of the cup holders. The only person that would call me is Cammie, and I’m going to be with her. Besides, I’m going to need as little distractions as possible to do this.

  Shaking my head, I let out a breath. Instead of the date I planned for us, we’re back to this familiar place of tug-of-war that’s filled with miscommunications and secrets.

  I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to tell her, but I can’t wait any longer. We have to finally talk. It’s going to feel like a jerk move to do it while she’s sick in the hospital, but seeing her with Oliver...I don’t know how to describe how that made me feel. All I’ve been able to think this afternoon is maybe he’s not the right person for her. Maybe neither of us is.

  Getting out of my car, I make my way to the information desk to find out if Cammie’s been admitted because I figured that was coming—that they’d want to run some tests, which can’t be done until tomorrow since it’s already the evening. After I get the room number, I realize I didn’t even stop at the store to get her flowers. What kind of boyfriend does that make me? Boyfriend. We’ve yet to define ourselves. I love the way that sounds. There are only two ways to describe my relationship that would sound better. Fiancé and husband. And up until today, I thought I may have had a chance at those, but now I’m not so sure.

  Running into the gift shop before they close, I grab the best looking flowers they have to offer. I know as soon as I see the ones I want to get for her. It’s a bouquet of red roses mixed with tiger lilies. Grabbing them, I take them to the counter. When the cashier tells me they’re eighty dollars, I nearly choke before handing her my credit card. How can a hospital feel good about robbing people who are here to visit people that are sick? That’s chump change to me, but still. For fucking flowers. That are going to die.

  Less than two minutes later, I’m knocking on her door, feeling like I don’t belong—like she’s not my everything. “Hey. Can I come in?”

  “Yeah,” she says. When I open the door, my body immediately relaxes to see we’re alone. Thank fuck for something going right. I nearly forget why we’re here as I take in the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even when she’s not one hundred percent. “I’m sorry he was with me.”

  When I said we needed to talk, I didn’t really mean about him, but I guess it’s inevitable.

  “Those are gorgeous, by the way.”

  I smile as I put them beneath her nose so she can smell them. She moans as she inhales. Pulling them away, I put them on her side table. If I have to hear her make sounds like she does when I give her orgasms, I’m not going to be able to do what I came up here to do.

  Before I get to that, my lips crave hers, and I lean down and brush mine against her warm mouth, wishing I could have done that nine years ago instead of what I had to do instead. I want to kiss her, but she’s been vomiting blood, so that’s kind of freaking me out. But her lips don’t have a metallic taste. “Are you sure you didn’t just puke up strawberries?”

  “Huh?” She laughs.

  “You taste like your normal self. Like that strawberry stuff you put on your lips.”

  “Yeah, thank goodness we brought my purse. And they said I could have a clear diet as tolerated until midnight, so I had some Gatorade. So far so good.”

  “I was out of my mind with worry when I heard your call come over the radio, and I didn’t even know it was you. What else are the doctors saying?”

  She shrugs. “They said in a lot of cases it’s minor. They are going to do some kind of a scope thing tomorrow. My labs looked good, they said.”

  “An endoscopy?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s what they called it.”

  I smirk at her. “Do you know the definition or do you need me to explain it for you?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Smartass.”

  “There’s my girl.”

  “You’re sexy in your community helper uniform.” She winks, and I let out a small laugh.

  “You’re cute in your hospital gown.” All I can think is it has easy access to all my favorite places on her body. But that thought quickly fades. “We need to talk.”

  “I know,” she whispers. She doesn’t move or speak.

  I give her a little smirk. “Or you can just sit here and look pretty, that’s fine too,” I say, sitting on the side of her bed, facing her.

  “Or we could do this. That’d be fine too.” She grabs my uniform and pulls me into a kiss. “Whichever makes you more comfortable.”

  Fuck. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of strawberry against my mouth. Her tongue slowly dips into my mouth and swims around before diving deeper, harder. “Cam.” I push her back, but she pushes against me, refusing to break the kiss, her hand dipping beneath my pants. And of course my cock didn’t get the memo to stand down. Shit. Will I ever be able to tell her no? Probably not. So, the only way I can think of to get her to stop, to take me seriously is the truth. Finally. “Have you called your parents yet?” I ask, hoping and praying they’re on their way. If they are, I can just keep this bottled inside because that news would mean there’s hope they realize how precious she is, and that nothing should come between their relationships with her.

  She shakes her head, releasing me. “They didn’t answer.”

  “What about Wells?”

  “No.”

  Dammit. And this just proves what I already knew when I walked into this building. I know what I have to do.

  “Did you bring your phone with you?”

  She nods and points to the tray table. “But no charger.”

  Son of a bitch. “Is it dead?”

  “Not quite yet.”

  “Good.” Swiping her screen, I pull up Wells’ number in her contacts and click the yellow envelope to send a text.

  Cammie: I started puking blood today. Was taken by ambulance to Magnolia Grove Memorial. I’m in room twenty-four-thirty-one. Please tell me your flesh and blood is just as important as your girlfriend was. My phone is dying. I hope to see you soon, Wells. I love you.

  I don’t give a shit if she gets mad about my message to him. It’s the truth. I never understood why it was okay for Wells to date my sister. She had the same father as I did. But yet I was some monster. It never made sense to me. All I could think of was people view girls as less threatening than boys. And my attitude wasn’t helping my case. Still doesn’t.

  Tossing the phone back down on the tray table, I look her straight in the eyes. “I need to tell you some things.”

  “O-kay.” She swallows.

  I put my hands on either side of her face and back my head away so I can see her. “I lied to you, Cam.”

  “What?” Her brow furrows. “Did you just say?”

  “I’ve told you over and over I’m not an asshol
e…that that side of me was all just an act.”

  She grins. “Oh you want to talk Webster?” She bites her bottom lip. “Silly me. You scared me. Who needs physical foreplay when we can have word play?”

  I can’t keep my lips from tugging up. I feel drunk on her, on us. It’d be so easy to just entertain her in whatever way she wants, to go get takeout and have our date here minus the lingerie. To pretend that it’s just about word play or foreplay. “No.” I drop my hands. I have to break this connection. It’s like as long as we’re touching, there’s this current that keeps us on a high frequency, connected, crackling with need that only we can release for each other. “It wasn’t completely true.”

  She shrugs. “I like it when you’re a little bit of an asshole. Just not too much, okay?”

  I glance down at my crisp uniform. “You’re not understanding. I’m being serious. I’m not playing.”

  “Oh,” she says. Any semblance of a smile is quickly replaced with a frown. “So. We’re finally going to quit pretending like your sister didn’t die, like you didn’t push me away every chance you got? You mean you’re actually going to take some responsibility for the fact you broke my heart, Holden Masters?”

  There’s venom in her voice. So. Much. Pent-up. Anger. It reminds me of that day in the garage when my mom was drilling my dad on all the ways he’d fucked up. She was right about him. And Cammie’s right about me. Maybe I’m more like him than I think.

  She tilts her head, eyes narrowed. “Talk, Holden. I’d love to finally hear what you have to say.”

  I nod. I’m not sure she’s going to still mean it when I’m finished. “I deserve all that. I do. And probably more.” Running my hands through my hair, I blow out a breath. “We promised no secrets. And by the words you just spoke to me combined with what I saw earlier, it sounds like you have your own, but I’ll go first.”

  She arches a brow, then hunches forward. “Sorry, but clearly it’s nine years later, and I’m still hurt. And scared history’s repeating itself. And I haven’t made sense of Oliver’s visit yet. Maybe it all hinges on what you say next.”

  I tread carefully, giving her a little sideways grin because I don’t think she wants Oliver. The only thing standing between us is what’s always been there. The past. “I don’t want anyone or anything to come between us ever again, Cam. If this doesn’t work because we couldn’t make it, that’s one thing.” Reaching out, my hand caresses her delicate cheek. Stupid hand. Stay put in my fucking lap. No touching all the pretty things. No touching Cammie. “But I also haven’t and don’t want to hurt you more than I clearly already have.” I clasp my hands, rubbing my thumbs together to keep from touching her again. “And what I’m holding inside me…” I swallow and close my eyes. Flashbacks to the last time I fought for her all those years ago haunt me. “I’ve held it there, let it eat me alive for the last eight and a half years in hopes to spare you.” My heart’s pounding. “Well, even that’s only partly true. I also kept it to myself because I eventually started to believe what I was told after so many times.”

  “Believe what?”

  “That I wasn’t good enough for you, that you deserved better. I take responsibility for pushing you away that day in the bathroom, Cam. I was nasty. But I was also hurting so fucking much. I couldn’t stand to get close to you to only lose you like I did Vi.”

  She reaches out and puts her hands on my neck, rubbing her fingers through the hair at the base. It feels so good. My entire body responds to her in a way that, if it could be bottled, would be highly addictive—a controlled substance I can’t get enough of. “Hey. I knew that.”

  “Did you know I smashed my sister’s car that day?”

  She nods. “Yep.”

  “My parents got in a huge fight. They always did that in private, but they didn’t know I was there that day.”

  “I heard there was a bunch of crap happening at your house, but there were a variety of rumors.” She shrugs. “And you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  I don’t deserve her. Her father’s right. I should just walk away, forget this ever happened, and let her go back home to them. She’s too damn good for me. Tears fill my fucking eyes. Where did they come from? I nibble the inside of my cheek. It must be written all over my face that this is bad. So. Bad.

  Her brows furrow. Her shoulders tense up as her head starts to shake. She scoots closer to me. “Who did this to you, Holden? Who did this to us?”

  Us. I love the way that sounds rolling off her tongue. I hope this isn’t the last time I hear it. Glancing away, I open my mouth, but all that happens is a sigh. Can I do this? To me, this is far worse than anything I’ve ever done before. It’s going to ruin her world. And if her parents hadn’t behaved the way they have recently, would I be doing this? Is this revenge? No.

  This is about releasing Cammie from the tainted viewpoint of the past orchestrated by her father. This is me breaking free of his confines.

  We were both young. And I was totally manipulated, which meant she was also by default. And I won’t allow that to happen anymore. I won’t allow our future to be molded by a skewed, externally influenced past. I’m not sure I’m breathing. My chest is so tight. Finally, I look her straight in her beautiful green eyes and prepare to release the words I’ve tried to protect her from. But that’s just it. By keeping them in, they only protect her. They ruin us. Past, present, and future. I don’t want secrets. I want to keep my promises. All of them. To her and Vi. Dammit.

  “Your father did, Cam.”

  As soon as I say it, I immediately regret all of this. I should have just let her seduce me, pretend it’s all okay, that we live in some kind of fictional world where everything is fine. It’s us against them. Every time I turn her away and try to do right by her, take the noble route, I regret it. Why is that? Why does it always feel like shit?

  Instead of that release being cathartic, those words become scars branded on our skin. Three simple words that can never be taken back. Three simple words that change everything.

  I don’t know why I expected it to be easy, that she’d react favorably. Nothing with her ever is as I expect. A single tear drips down her left cheek. Then another follows down the right. She’s not speaking. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, and she’s shaking her head. It’s slow at first, but then it speeds up.

  “No. You’re lying. Why are you telling me this right now?”

  I stare at her, my face twisting in pain—in anguish. “I know I can’t expect you to believe me when I wasn’t one hundred percent honest with you. I’ve agreed no secrets. I’ve promised. It’s just…”

  Her eyes close. She scoots away from me. I’m losing her.

  This is it.

  This is what it feels like to fall through the clouds, hope free-falling.

  Someone might as well take spreaders and open my chest to where it’s gaping, then just for fun, squeeze all the blood from my heart. That would probably be less painful than this. “I was in agony after my sister died, Cam. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I know I did. That’s why I haven’t told you. I wondered if some secrets were worth keeping if they saved the other person from what you’re feeling. What good comes from that?” Reaching up, I swipe a tear. I can’t help myself. I just want to pull her in my goddamn arms and never let her go because I worry she’s slipping away. “But I didn’t want to then, and I can’t be now—the rift between you and your family. I kept hoping your parents could accept me, see that I was never what they thought, and even if I was that I’ve grown up to be someone worthy of their only daughter—of you.”

  She looks down at her lap and fidgets with the stiff blanket.

  “I’ve seen firsthand what lies do, Cam. But you should know I did try to go back to you.”

  “When?”

  I shake my head, unsure of what she’s asking. When he told me to stay away from her or when I tried to come back to her. “I need you to know he’s told me four times over the course of the last nine years to stay
away from you.” I don’t want to tell her about Wells’ part, but damn, I don’t want any more secrets. If I’m going to lay it all on the line, I might as well do it right. “And your brother once. But the first with your father was here, that day in the hospital.”

  “That’s why you never showed up?” she asks, her voice squeaky high.

  I nod. “I didn’t know what to do. I think I was probably in shock because of Vi.”

  She clenches her eyes closed.

  “The second time was the same day you confronted me in the bathroom after I smashed my sister’s car in.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. Fuck, this is hard. “I went to your house after I saw my parents fighting.” Tears are now steady coming down her face every time she opens those gorgeous lids. “Then, when you wouldn’t even speak to me after my father’s death, I got really desperate. I tried to go to your house. Texted Wells to send you outside. He ended up telling your dad, who then called the cops on me.”

  She looks horrified.

  “And the most recent being the day after the auction when you left us alone inside at Rind ‘N Grind, to stay away from you.” When she doesn’t say anything, but still seems to be listening to me, I continue. “The first two times, Cam, I was in so much pain from Vi’s death, I believed him. I believed you deserved better than me. Then, after Dad, I was selfish. I didn’t even care if you deserved better. I was convinced you were everything I needed, and I wanted you more than I wanted anything.” Glancing away, my voice cracks. “But three strikes, Cam. I mean, damn. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You should have let me decide that,” she says, her voice quivering.

  “You’re wrong.”

  She glances up at me with a look of incredulity. It warms me a little. There’s the feistiness, the fire, I love. My girl, everything she is, all wrapped up in that one expression.

  “He should have let you decide that.”

  She swallows, wiping the tears from her face.

  “But you’re also right. I should have let you decide then, and I didn’t. That’s why I’m going to now.”