Secrets We Keep

by Barbara Freethy

  Hunter didn't start the engine and with the rain streaming down the windows, all she could see was him, his ruggedly attractive face, his beautiful blue eyes, his full mouth. Her heart started to beat a little faster, as a long-ago memory tugged at her brain.

  They'd been caught in the rain before. Hunter had driven her home after school in his brother Dylan's Mustang. With hail coming down like rocks, Hunter had pulled over by the park and suggested they wait out the storm. But they hadn't just sat in the car and talked; they'd flung themselves into each other's arms.

  They'd kissed with the passion and wonder of their sixteen years, completely caught up in every touch, every taste, every whispered word between them. The rest of the world had completely disappeared.

  "You remember," he said, a husky note in his voice as he met her gaze. "That day in the rain."

  "It was a lifetime ago."

  "It was amazing. We kissed for hours."

  "It felt like minutes."

  Silence followed her words, and then Hunter said, with a reckless glitter in his blue eyes, "Do you think it would be the same now?"

  His tantalizing question hung in the air. "It would be different." She felt a little desperate to believe that. "We can't go back. Everyone knows that. It would never be the same."

  "Only one way to find out." He reached across the console, his hand slipping around the back of her neck.

  "Hunter," she breathed. "This is a terrible idea."

  "That doesn't sound like a no." He moved closer.

  She should say no. She should push him away, but when he lowered his head oh, so slowly, all she wanted to do was feel his mouth on hers. Just one more time, she told herself.

  One more kiss…

  Seven

  She tasted exactly the way he remembered, like sweet cherries, her favorite flavor of lip gloss. Apparently, some things didn't change.

  Cassidy's lips parted under his with a sigh, as if she'd been waiting a long time…as long as he had.

  He sank into the kiss, savoring the softness of her mouth, the scent of flowers in the strands of her hair that brushed against his cheek. And while he'd meant to stop after one kiss or two, he kept going back for more—just as he had all those years ago. He threaded his fingers through her hair, so she couldn't pull away, not that she seemed to have any interest in doing that. She was matching him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, her hands reaching around his back, pulling him closer.

  And he was happy to get as close as he possibly could. He let go of her hair, so he could run his hands up under her shirt, needing to feel the heat of her skin.

  She murmured something against his mouth as he explored the curve of her back.

  It sounded like encouragement, but who could say for sure?

  His blood was roaring through his ears, matching the thundering beat of his heart against his chest. He felt sixteen again—anxious, eager, impatient, filled with desire for the girl in his arms.

  The years in between faded away. All he could think about was her. All he wanted was her. Nothing else mattered.

  Last time, they'd climbed into the back seat and made love. It was the one and only time they'd been together, but he could still remember it as if it had been yesterday.

  He could make it so much better for her now.

  But Cassidy was breaking the kiss, pushing him away…

  He stared at her in confusion caught between the past and the present.

  "We have to stop," she said, a panicked note in her voice.

  "Why?"

  "Because…I don't want this."

  Her brown eyes were shimmering with a desire that belied her words. She might not want to want him again, but she did. "Yes, you do. Isn't it past time for some honesty?"

  She straightened. "I'm being honest. This isn't going anywhere—definitely not to the back seat."

  "You remember what came next the last time we kissed in a car in the rain."

  "How could I forget? But we're not those people anymore."

  "You felt remarkably familiar." He paused as she ran her fingers through the hair he'd recently tousled. "It would be a lot better now, Cassidy."

  "It was pretty good back then."

  She surprised him with the admission. "It was," he agreed. "I'm glad you can be honest about that."

  "Clearly there's still some chemistry between us."

  "Enough to blow up the lab," he said dryly.

  "But we're older, wiser…right?"

  "I don't know. At the moment, I'm feeling closer to sixteen again."

  "Well, we're not sixteen. And I don't think either of us needs to complicate our lives any further. We both need to get a grip, pull it together."

  "I'm not so sure this kind of complication would be that bad."

  He was even less sure when she ran her tongue over her lips, the way she so often did when she was nervous. He'd been able to kiss the nerves away when they were in high school, but now… She was right. He needed to get a grip and pull it together.

  "Did you ever tell Dylan what we did in his precious car?" she asked.

  He smiled at her question. "God, no. He would have killed me. It was bad enough I took the Mustang without asking him. I had to pay that debt off for a long time, but it was totally worth it. Giving you a ride home on that rainy night was the best idea I'd ever had."

  "You must have regretted it when I left two weeks later."

  "I was angry, but I never regretted that night. It's still one of the best memories of my life. What about you?"

  She hesitated. "Let's just say I haven't forgotten." She shifted in her seat, putting a few more inches of space between them. "How is Dylan? Is he also a firefighter?"

  "He is. He's also in love. So is my brother Ian. They had a double wedding in February."

  "Really?" Her brows shot up in surprise. "They both beat you to the altar?"

  "Yes, and I'm fine with it. I've never been in a rush to get married. Anyway, I work with Dylan now. We're also at the same firehouse as my cousin Burke. Ian is a scientist. I have no idea what he does, but he's changing the world in some way."

  "What are their wives like?"

  "Dylan married Tori Hayden. I don't know if you remember her. She was in high school with us. Her older brother Scott was one of Dylan's good friends. They reconnected last year and have been inseparable ever since."

  "Her name is familiar, but I don't know that I ever talked to her."

  "She's a reporter now, very determined, ambitious, intense, and a great match for Dylan. She has no problem calling him out when he does something stupid. Ian's wife Grace is an elementary school teacher. She's friendly, funny, down-to-earth, which is good for Ian, who tends to walk around with his head in the clouds, his brain on another level."

  "What about your sisters? Annie was such a good artist. I remember her sketches were all over your house."

  "She's still drawing. She does animations for superhero movies now. She's getting married a week from tomorrow to Griffin Hale. They live down south in San Clemente, but she's having the wedding up here, so all the Callaways can come. Mia lives in Angel's Bay. She's a curator at the local museum there, and she married an ex-soldier, who is now a cop. She has a stepdaughter, and she's also pregnant. She's due in about a month."

  "And Kate is the FBI agent."

  "Yes. She married Devin a few weeks ago without any family or fanfare. My mother is still pissed off about it, but that's Kate. She dances to her own tune, and she and Devin have been together for a while."

  "Your parents are well?"

  "They're incredibly healthy, thank God. My dad is retired from the fire department, but he works for my Uncle Kevin doing construction on a part-time basis. Mom is still a nurse, and I don't think she'll be quitting any time soon. The extended family is all around: Uncle Jack, Aunt Lynda, all the kids and their spouses and their kids. It's a big group."

  "What about your grandmother? I always liked her. She had the brightest and friendliest blue eyes. S
he just sparkled."

  He felt a twist of pain at the reminder of how his grandmother used to be. "She's not doing so well anymore. She has Alzheimer's. She's been on some medication, a drug trial, that has kept some of the worst at bay, but she's slowly fading. She's one of the reasons I came back."

  "What do you mean—you came back? Where were you?"

  "I took some time off from firefighting, and I've been traveling the last eight months. I went all through South America and Mexico on my motorcycle."

  "Taking pictures?" she asked, a light in her eyes.

  He shrugged. "Not really. I took a few on my phone."

  "How could you not have taken a camera? It was your dream to photograph the world."

  "That was a long time ago. I don't even think about that anymore."

  Actually, her words made him question why he hadn't taken a camera. There had definitely been places—moments—on his trip that he could have captured in a better way. But the dream of being a photographer and traveling the world shooting photos had pretty much ended when Cassidy had left. He didn't know why. He could have done it if he'd wanted to. But so much of that plan had been tied up in traveling the world with her, and every time he'd picked up the camera after she left, it had made him think about her, and he'd quickly set it back down.

  "I guess dreams change," she said.

  "They do," he agreed, eager to get off that topic.

  "I'm glad your family is well. I loved going to your house. It was so warm and inviting. There were always kids around, always something cooking on the stove that smelled delicious. Your mom made the best cookies, too. Even though she worked, she made a home for all of you."

  "I should have been more appreciative of all she did."

  "She must have hated me when I left."

  He couldn't deny that his family had been very angry with the way Cassidy had treated him. "They were sorry things didn't work out," he said, not sure why he was protecting Cassidy's feelings, but it felt right.

  "They were more than sorry," she said dryly.

  "They got over it. So did I. Life goes on."

  "Life does go on," she murmured. "I was actually thinking of my mom earlier today, how she was the one who taught me to garden, who introduced me to the world of flowers. I still miss her."

  "I'm sure you do. Did your dad like to garden, too?"

  "No, not at all," she said with a sad little laugh. "He liked numbers, data, equations. And as a high school math teacher, I'm pretty sure he would have been disappointed in the grades I got in those classes. I did not inherit his analytical brain." She blinked some moisture out of her eyes. "I wish you could have met them. When we were dating, I used to imagine what it would have been like if I could have brought you home to a happy house, to parents who cared about me."

  "I would have liked to have met them."

  "But if they hadn't died in a car crash, I probably would have never met you. I would have been living on the other side of the city. Our paths might never have crossed. Maybe that would have been better." She let out a breath. "The rain is letting up. You should take me back to my car."

  It was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to know more about her life, what had happened after she'd left, how she'd lived, who else she'd loved.

  His pulse leapt at that thought, but he couldn’t be naïve enough to think there had been no one else for her. She was a beautiful woman.

  "Hunter?" she questioned. "You need to start the car."

  "I will take you back. I just want you to tell me…"

  "What? Tell you what?"

  He looked into her big brown eyes. "That you won't run again. That you won't just vanish from my life without a word."

  She didn't answer immediately, her gaze growing troubled. "I don't know if I can make that promise. To be honest, I want to run away right now. I don't know where this will all end, but I don't think it's going to a good place. I can't become Mrs. Faulkner's fall girl. I won't take the blame for what they did to Tommy."

  "She can't pin this on you, Cassidy."

  "She's going to try. As soon as she knows the police have found me, spoken to me, she'll see me as her way out. She'll paint me as the troubled, crazy girl, who made up lies."

  "You're an adult now. You can fight her. And you can win."

  She smiled. "You always gave great pep talks."

  "I know you've had a rough life, Cassidy, obviously much rougher than I ever knew. But you have people in your life now who care about you, don't you?"

  "A few, but no one knows about my past. I wanted to keep it away from my life. That was a foolish thought." She let out a breath. "I do need to talk to George, especially if any of this is going to become a problem for the business."

  "Why would it?"

  "I don't know, but I can't let the Faulkners take anything else from me."

  "Then don't let them. Stay and fight. I'll help you."

  "I really don't understand why you would want to."

  "Because I never had the chance before. You took that away from me, because you didn't trust me."

  "I don't know if it was about trust."

  "It was all about trust. So, can you trust me to help you and can I trust you not to run?"

  She met his gaze. "I guess we'll find out."

  "I guess we will." He started the engine and drove down the street.

  The rain had eased off to a drizzle now, but the skies were still thick with dark clouds. The storm had subsided, but it definitely wasn't over, and he wasn't really thinking about the weather.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Cassidy stood by the kitchen window in her small apartment, watching as the rain returned with a vengeance, streaming down the windows, pressing pink roses and purple lavender against the panes, providing a kaleidoscope of shimmering color. In that kaleidoscope, she could see her memories spinning around—the good ones and the bad ones.

  Her life had always been a series of peaks and valleys, incredible highs followed by horrible lows. But when she'd gotten to the Wild Garden Nursery, she'd found a plateau, a place of stability, evenness. Some might call it boring, but she just felt relief knowing that each day would resemble the one before. Sure, there might be petty problems, but nothing that would bring her anger, grief, or pain—maybe nothing that would bring her incredible joy, either. But she'd always been willing to take that trade-off.

  Until now…

  Seeing Hunter again…

  The terrible news about Tommy…

  She was right back where she'd once been, and she felt incredibly fragile, which was not how she liked to feel.

  The earth was shifting beneath her feet. Everything she'd put behind her was back in front of her. She wanted to run. She wanted to disappear into the dark night. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't bail on George or the business, and she wanted to show Hunter that she could stay and fight, no matter how difficult it got.

  As the kettle began to scream, she moved away from the window and turned off the burner. She poured hot water over her tea bag, inhaling the scents of jasmine and chamomile.

  Flowers had always been her haven, her happy place, even when they'd been ground up into an herbal tea.

  As she waited for the liquid to cool, a sharp series of knocks came at her door. She jumped at the sound, thinking for a split second that Hunter had come to see her again, but it was George's voice that rang through the air.

  She rushed across the room and opened the door for him. As he came inside, water dripped off his jacket. "You're soaked. What are you doing here?"

  "I've been worried about you all day. When I saw your light on, I thought I'd come over."

  "You should have called. I know you only live at the other end of the property, but it's storming."

  "A little rain never hurt anyone. And you know I love storms. Water makes the plants grow."

  She smiled at the words he'd said so many times to her, words that he'd once uttered to remind a terrified nineteen-year-o
ld girl that while the storms would come, the sun always followed.

  Unfortunately, the sun didn't always shine again for everyone.

  "Can I get you some tea?" she asked. "The water is hot."

  "Wouldn't mind a cup." He took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door, then followed her into the kitchen.

  As she poured his tea, he settled into a stool at the island. "You want to tell me what's going on, Cassidy?"

  She set the mug in front of him. "Not really. But I'm guessing you're going to insist."

  "I am going to insist. If you have a problem that has the police involved, I have a right to hear about it."

  "You do."

  "Are you in trouble?"

  "I don't think so, but things have a way of going differently than I expect."

  "What has happened?"

  "I told you that I was in foster care for several years after my parents died. Well, what I didn't tell you is that I ran away from the last house when I was sixteen. I was terrified of the couple who ran the home, and I managed to stay hidden until I was eighteen."

  "Go on."

  "I was supposed to run away with a friend of mine—a boy by the name of Tommy Lucas. But he didn't show up at the bus station, and he sent me a message telling me to go without him. I was torn, but I was too terrified to go back to the house, so I got on the bus. I never heard from him again. But yesterday there was a fire at the house where I lived, and the firefighters found a skeleton in the walls—it was Tommy, the boy I was supposed to run away with." She blew out a breath as she finished, the reality of Tommy's death still hitting her hard every time she thought about it.

  George's eyes darkened with concern. "And that's why the police were looking for you."

  "Yes. I went to see them this afternoon. They asked me what I knew about Tommy, who else lived in the house, who might have had a motive to kill him. I believe it was the Faulkners, my foster parents. Unfortunately, Mr. Faulkner died a few months ago, and Mrs. Faulkner is claiming some sort of mental breakdown. I know they did it, but I'm worried that she'll try to pin it on someone else."