The Secret Thief

by Nina Lane

  “I did go to his games. People knew I was his twin, obviously. I connected with some guys who were into sports betting. I guess I somehow thought I could finally get some of Riley’s glory. I fucking hated that I was jealous of him. But what if I could make money off him?

  “I gambled a lot. Lost a crap ton of my trust fund money. Then one night, he came home drunk. He told me he was having a rough semester. His grades were terrible. If he didn’t do well on his finals, he’d get suspended from the team. He begged me to take his finals for him.”

  Silence falls, heavy with the weight of regret and sorrow. I grip my hands together so tightly my knuckles burn white.

  “Did you?” I ask quietly.

  Flynn stares out the window.

  “I’d placed a wager on the opposing team for his next Big Ten game. One I couldn’t afford to pay off. I was already in too deep. I told Riley I’d take his finals for him if he threw the game.

  “He couldn’t believe what I was asking. Either way, he couldn’t win. He throws the game, and they lose, or he flunks his finals and gets kicked off the team. I’d trapped him. And the worst part…” He stops, his throat working with a swallow. “The worst part was that it felt good. Finally I was the one with some power.”

  My breath is shallow, a strange panic brewing. “What… what did he do?”

  “He played the best game of his life.” A short laugh breaks from him. “Like he was a chess master, knowing exactly where everyone else on the ice would go before they even moved. They won, four to one. Riley was the hero. I was in a shitload of trouble. I paid the bookie what I could, but I had to come up with the rest of the money. Fast.

  “The game had been right before the holidays, so we went back to our parents’ house. They had a party to celebrate the win. I couldn’t ask my father for the money. Wouldn’t ask my grandfather. Riley didn’t talk to me at all. I knew I should apologize, but he still had everything. I had less than nothing. It was my own fucking fault.

  “One night I asked him to come out with me to the lake where we used to practice. Thought maybe I could talk to him there, if it was just the two of us again.”

  His eyes darken to burned-out charcoal. “Wooded area on the edge of town. There’s a lake that people use for hockey practice and ice-skating. It was a full moon, clear sky. We walked out there, got our skates on, hit the puck around.

  “We had a good time. Like we were kids again. He started going farther out on the ice and challenged me to a race. I skated to where he was, and next thing I knew, he was on me. Fists flying. Furious that I’d wanted him to throw a game, refused to take his finals, didn’t care that he was flunking out. I fought back, enraged that he’d always been so much better, that he’d forgotten about me, that hockey had taken over his life.

  “He was stronger. In better shape. I got in some punches, but I knew I’d never beat him, not in anything. I managed to get away from him, grabbed my stick, and skated off the ice.

  “When I was taking my skates off, he started yelling. Saying he hated his life, hated school, that he’d never wanted to play pro hockey. He was sick of all the work and training, never had a chance to be normal like I was.

  “And he hated me for that, hated that he couldn’t have the life I’d had, one where no one paid attention to him. But he’d never had a choice, could never go against our father. Had no idea how to get off the roller coaster. He wished he was dead.”

  Flynn falls silent again, his gaze unfocused. The air twists, changes, pressure collecting with the force of an exploding star.

  “I didn’t go back. Thought he was blowing off steam, that he didn’t really believe that. He had everything. I had nothing, not even him anymore. But I thought he’d come after me. I really thought…”

  He pauses and clears his throat. “I thought he’d get off the ice.”

  A slow, black pool of dread begins to expand in my gut.

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  “I went home.” He clenches his jaw. “My mother woke me up the next morning, asking where Riley had gone. He’d never returned. Even without knowing… I knew. I just… knew.”

  Unshed tears glitter in his eyes. “The rescuers found him a few hours later. It had been an unusually mild winter. He’d skated out to the center of the lake where the ice was thinnest. Broke through. They calculated he’d been dead for at least eight or so hours. Which meant he’d gone under not long after I’d left.”

  I press my hands to my chest, sorrow cracking through my bones, my heart.

  “In that instant, I knew nothing worse could happen to me.” Flynn wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “I’d lost half of myself. My parents were devastated. There was a massive outpouring of grief for Riley, both in Pembroke and the university.

  “Because the coroner had found bruises on Riley, and I’d also taken a beating, the police launched an investigation. News reports speculated about whether I’d killed him. It was a lurid, sensational story. Hockey phenom murdered by his jealous twin.

  “I was terrified something would come out about my betting, so I told my father. He paid off my debt and said I was the one who should have died. My mother locked herself in the house and drank.

  “My grandfather told me it wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t even talk to him. It was my fault. Every part of it. He wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been for me.”

  Pain slices through me. “What did you tell the police?”

  “A version of the truth. I said we had a fight because I’d always been jealous of his success, but I walked away. I repeated that same story over and over again. Everyone had an opinion about what had happened, but there were no witnesses, no evidence. The investigation came to a dead-end. But the speculation never stopped. Our family was destroyed.”

  He rises slowly to his feet and goes to the window. “My mother had a breakdown. My father lost investors, shareholders. I knew I had to leave. So after the investigation closed, I did two things. I legally changed my last name so the internet wouldn’t shadow me.

  “And I left home, took off traveling. I was on the road for close to three years. Hitchhiked across the country, worked on a fishing boat, in warehouses and factories, whatever I could find. Thought about Riley all the time. I had nightmares about being stuck in a maze, unable to find my way out.

  “That was when I started the first Mirror Mirror book, only I didn’t have the idea of a book in mind. It wasn’t until I met Max that I even considered publishing. But writing about Westley and Tugg became a kind of catharsis, I guess. At first I hated profiting from it, but I was able to channel the money into some good things. A hockey scholarship in his name, funding local leagues, helping my parents. Not that any of that made up for what I did. Or didn’t do.”

  He continues looking outside, his shoulders slumped. Silence fills the room, thick and heavy with pain. My heart hammers. The puzzle of Flynn snaps together in my mind, a picture of a man with sharp missing pieces and an irreparably shattered heart.

  I stand and walk to him, resting my hands on his arms. I press my forehead between his shoulder blades. Cold infuses my bones, settles in my throat, my soul.

  I’m so sorry.

  I don’t say the words, afraid they’ll sound insipid and useless. There is nothing I can say to change anything or make it easier for him to bear. He hasn’t isolated himself in the lighthouse for all these years just to work. He’s been punishing himself for having challenged and then walked away from his own brother. Not having been there to save him. Rehashing everything he should have done differently.

  “Did you ever go back?” I ask.

  “A couple of times. Once when my grandfather got sick and passed away. Then later because I felt like I owed it to my parents. They didn’t much care. My father ended up filing for bankruptcy. At least I’ve been able to help them financially. But everything was destroyed long before that.”

  Because I made a mistake. Because I walked away.

  He doesn’t say that l
ast part, but he doesn’t have to. I know all about making mistakes.

  He turns, reaching out to touch my hair, his mouth tightening with regret. “I’m sorry, Eve. I wish I could have stayed away from you.”

  My throat aches. “I have my own mind and heart. It wasn’t just you. And you did warn me away, remember? I chose not to listen.”

  “I should…” He swallows, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have come after you that day. But you… it’s so stupid, but you were like a dream come to living, breathing life. I couldn’t stay away from you. I’d been thinking about you ever since Max showed me that picture of you in the forest. Maybe I even fell in love with you then.”

  A tight, painful longing wraps around my heart. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

  He brings his hands to the sides of my face. Tears dampen his eyes, turning his eyelashes black and spiky, but tenderness gleams beneath his despair.

  “I meant it when I said I have nothing to offer you. I’ve kept Riley a secret all this time because I don’t want it all to come to the surface again. And if people found out that Riley Flynn the author is the same Flynn Donovan who was investigated in the death of his brother… I can’t imagine the shitstorm that would follow. I don’t know how much William King knows or how he found out, but I didn’t ever want to risk people digging into the story again. I don’t want Riley Flynn stained by Flynn Donovan.”

  “You’re not…” My breath hitches painfully. “You’re not a stain, Flynn. You’re not a troll, like that picture you drew. You don’t need to hide away from the world anymore. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

  He slides his hand over my cheek.

  “I love you, Eve,” he says roughly. “You’re everything I’m not. Remember that quote Max gave me from The Butterfly? Being with you has already given me everything I need to live. Sunshine. Freedom.” He strokes his thumb across my lower lip, the light in his eyes softening. “And you’re my little flower to love.”

  My tears spill over. “I love you too. I think I’ve loved you since the day you said my name. Certainly since the day you smelled my hair.”

  A faint smile tugs at his mouth but doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his hand away from me. Apprehension flickers in my heart.

  “How can you love me knowing I was keeping secrets from you all this time?” he asks. “That I did what I did to my own brother? That I was lying?”

  “You weren’t lying. I was with a man who lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated. I know what that’s like. His secrets were evil and destructive. Yours are not. There’s a world of difference between keeping secrets to hurt people and keeping secrets to protect them. You only ever wanted to protect. Your parents, Riley, your grandfather. Yourself. Me. Even the town of Castille. But your secret is the truth.”

  He twists his mouth. “No one wants that kind of truth. Do you know the ending of The Butterfly? The butterfly ends up pinned to a mounting board.”

  “He also wants to marry a flower who’s dainty, delicate, and useful in the kitchen, so I think we can take what we want out of that story.”

  A hoarse chuckle breaks out of him. He scrubs his sleeve over his eyes.

  I rest my palm on his chest. His heart beats weaker now owing to his physical trauma, but still as steady as ever.

  “It’s at the end when the butterfly realizes what it means to live,” I remind him. “But by then it’s too late. He regrets missing his chance. And it’s time for you to stop punishing yourself. To live, you also need to be out in the world. You need to let people in.”

  He moves back to the chair, his shoulders hunched. “I don’t know how.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve done it with me. And you’ve proven it through the Mirror Mirror books, through Westley and Tugg’s adventures. Their determination, courage, love for each other. The friends they make and battles they fight. The things they lose and find again. Their homecoming.”

  I sit in front of him again, my heart pounding and my soul filling with what I now know is destiny. I didn’t run away to Castille. I wasn’t exiled. I was meant to come here, drawn by the lantern glow at the top of the lighthouse. The light that pulled me home.

  “Flynn.” I rest my hands on his thighs and lean forward. “We can do this together. I’ve made terrible mistakes too. Everyone knows about them, but I’m still here. More capable of loving you than ever because I’ve been through enough darkness to recognize true light. And whatever William King knows or doesn’t know… it’s up to you to tell the truth. Your truth. And when you do, I’ll be there with you.”

  “God, Eve.” He chokes out another laugh and covers my hands with his. “You’re more than I could have imagined Fiamma to be. I love you so damned much.”

  “Then prove it. Don’t deny me you.”

  He gazes at me for a moment. “I can’t deny you anything. I don’t want to.” He smiles faintly. “See? I’m telling you all my secrets now.”

  “What about the secrets in the Riley Flynn books?” I turn my palms face up so I can link my fingers with his. “I found them hidden in the mazes and illustrations. Are they all from the wall?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs, slightly abashed. “I don’t know why I started doing that. The Forestry Department told me to clean the wall regularly and discard the secrets, but part of me felt like that was wrong. I guess putting them in my books was my way of keeping everyone else’s secrets. Reminding myself that we all have them hidden away.”

  “Not you and me.” I press my forehead against his. “Not anymore. No matter what happens next.”

  And neither of us has any idea what that will be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Excuse me.”

  Flynn and I look up from the crossword puzzle we’re working on. Jeremy King stands at the hospital room door, his hands shoved into his pockets and his posture lined with wariness.

  Beside me, Flynn tenses. In the three days he’s been in the hospital, he’s received well wishes from several residents, including Allegra King, but Jeremy is his first visitor.

  I rest my hand on Flynn’s arm, mindful of the fact that he still has a long way to go in his recovery.

  “What do you want, Jeremy?” I ask.

  “Just to talk to you.” He steps into the room, putting his hands up. “I swear. And to apologize for… well, you know.”

  I nod toward a seat at the table. “Sit down.”

  He pulls out a chair, glancing at Flynn. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” Jeremy clears his throat, a sudden nervousness radiating from him. “So I wanted you both to know I had nothing to do with… uh, what my father did. King Financial has been struggling badly in the past few years, and he’s lost a lot of money.

  “I’d asked him a while back if I could spearhead the lighthouse sale… figured it would be good for my own career… and he agreed. When you…” he nods at Flynn, “…started making noise about preventing the sale, Dad hired an investigator to find out what you were hiding.”

  “Wait a minute.” I hold up a hand. William had told me about the investigator when he’d come to my house, and now a thought strikes me. “Was this investigator a heavy-set guy? Bald, about six feet tall?”

  “Uh, I think so,” Jeremy says. “Why?”

  Disgust rises to my throat. So I wasn’t being paranoid when I saw that man several times in town. My instincts were right yet again.

  “And this investigator dredged up my past.” Flynn’s voice is flat and cold.

  “Quite a story too,” Jeremy remarks. “Obviously my father intended to use the information to get you to change your mind.”

  “You mean blackmail him,” I correct sharply.

  “Okay, whatever.” Jeremy fidgets, twisting his fingers together. “The point is that the PI found out about the suspicious death of your brother. It’s pretty clear you’ve wanted to keep that a secret. Fine. That’s why I’ve come to make you an offer.”

  Flynn
narrows his eyes. “What kind of offer?”

  “You know my father has done a lot for this town,” Jeremy says. “He’s always been well-respected around here. You can imagine that both my mother and I really don’t want to see his legacy ruined over this.”

  Anger lances through Flynn’s body. “This was the fact that he tried to kill Eve. I could give a shit about his fucking legacy.”

  “Look, I get it, okay?” Jeremy shifts his gaze to me, a plea darkening his eyes. “But something happened to drive him to it. I found out he’s a shareholder in the Oracle Corporation, which is why he was pushing their agenda. He could’ve made fortune if they’d signed the development contract. But risking it by attacking you? I don’t get it. Maybe he’s having some kind of mental breakdown.”

  “And that’s an excuse?” I glare at him.

  “I’m not here to argue about why he did what he did,” Jeremy says. “I’m here to ask if we could work together on this.”

  “On what?” Flynn asks.

  “Look, you don’t want anyone to know about what happened to your brother, right?” Jeremy spreads his hands out, tension stiffening his shoulders. “And I’d rather this stuff about my father be kept on the down low as much as possible. So how about we make a deal? I’ll do what I can to bury the information the PI dug up, if you’ll agree to issue a statement about this whole incident being a mutual fight, or even a simple assault charge. We can spin the story so it looks like a difference of opinion that took a wrong turn.”

  Stunned, I don’t know whether to laugh or call security to have him escorted out. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s beneficial to all of us,” Jeremy insists. “King Financial isn’t completely wrecked, our family reputation stays more or less intact, and Alverton’s murder investigation stays a secret. Honestly, what choice do you have?”