The Bad Boy's Secret

by Stevens, Susan

  “So…if it’s ok by you…by all of you,” he looked around, and Cassie realized he was sort of asking for permission. These boys around her were as much her family and caretakers as her absentee parents. Dave’s eyes landed on Chuck, who shifted to Cassie.

  “Does he make you happy?”

  “Yes,” she responded, and Chuck shrugged.

  “Well, then no buts about it,” he replied.

  “Will you let me put a ring on your finger? Will you do me the honour of being my wife? Will you marry me?”

  Cassie had never thought of how her engagement would happen. Her entire life had been about the ice rink. But in this moment, with Dave on his knees and this perfect ring in front of her, she knew that this was the way it was supposed to happen. And she knew what the answer was.

  She held her left hand out, her thin fingers brushing against the ring box.

  “Yes,” she replied, and Dave grinned a wide smile, taking the ring and slipping it on her ring finger. It fit perfectly, sliding past her knuckle and coming to rest at the end of her finger. She was engaged, to Dave. “Yes, Yes, Yes!”

  Dave got up, and she threw herself on him, covering his neck with kisses.

  “Oh my God, when, where, what, how?” she managed and he laughed.

  “I’m sure we can figure all of that,” he said. “Whatever your heart desires.”

  “I want it all!” she declared, laughing. “The big white dress and the huge church and I want…” she turned, to look at the boys still sitting calmly, watching with raised eyebrows. “I don’t want bridesmaids. I want brides knights. All of you, standing up behind me.”

  Chuck met her eyes, and she let go of Dave, to take his hand.

  “Is that ok? Will you…come?”

  He looked behind her to Dave.

  “I don’t know, Sas. You marrying an upper classer? How do you know we won’t bring the switchblades and rumble?”

  “Uh…” she looked doubtful for a moment, and then Chuck broke into a grin.

  “I’m joking kid. As long as I don’t have to wear a dress, I’m down. Hell, you wait a year or two and maybe you can have a police escort. Of the good kind.”

  “Ooh, that would be fun,” she turned back to Dave. “Yeah?”

  “Whatever you want, babe,” he replied, and she hugged him again.

  “This is what I want,” she replied. “Just here, and just no.”

  Cassie felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. No more secrets, no more battles. Her muscles were sore from skating that morning, her belly full, and she was surrounded by love, three things that she thought would never happen again.

  When she and her family left New York in fear, with tears and a funeral, she wasn’t sure that she would ever be whole again. She felt like the air was missing from her lungs, like her bones couldn’t hold the weight of her soul and like she would forever be cold and alone. She was sure that the middle of nowhere wouldn’t help, and that she could never be happy again.

  And even the first few months, watching the wars between the upper and lower classes, and guarding her secrets carefully, she thought that she would never recover.

  But secrets were meant to be told, to be whispered so the burden could be shared, and cured.

  As she said goodbye to the boys that night, she didn’t worry about whether it would be the last time. It used to be a common fear, and she used to hate goodbyes. But this was a familiar goodbye, said in safety and in love, and she didn’t have any regrets turning in early so she could get a goodnight’s sleep. She was happy, she was warm, and she could breathe. Most of all, she could live again. She used to think that Scott had it easy, dying peacefully when she had to live through this hell. But now that the skater’s secrets were shared, and now that she realized the value of life, she knew she was the lucky one.

  --THE END--

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  As a purchaser of this story, I wanted to offer you the chance to grab my entire “Secret’s” compilation of books for a HUGE discount.

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  Susan Stevens

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  Copyright 2013 - All Rights Reserved - Susan Stevens

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated and signed permission from the author.