The Secrets We Keep

by Hannah Davenport

  I sit at the other end of the couch, my elbow on the armrest, my cheek propped in the palm of my hand.

  Brylee settles on a chick flick.

  “What’s this?”

  “Sixteen Candles. Have you seen it before?”

  “No.” I inwardly groan. Just by the characters and the setting, I can already tell it’s a sappy movie.

  “It’s pretty good. Molly Ringwald stars in it.”

  For the next two hours, I endure the torture of watching some girl get her first kiss at the age of sixteen. Watching this makes me want to tear my hair out one strand at a time. How can anyone enjoy this shit?

  As Brylee gets into the movie, she relaxes and stretches her legs the length of the couch. I lift her feet and place them in my lap. She doesn’t move them, so it’s a start to getting back to where we were.

  When it ends, I snatch the remote from the couch and find something more interesting to watch.

  “Cops? Really?” she whines. “Don’t you get enough of that in your real job?”

  “Nope.” I grin. Now she has to endure this for at least two episodes.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ariel

  I think I have cabin fever. Zack and I go for walks, but I need to get out, go somewhere with people. There’s nothing to do but watch TV, which I love, but you can only watch so much during the day. Sometimes we play chess, but that’s about it.

  Zack kissed me yesterday and then said he was sorry. I guess he doesn’t like me. Either that, or I didn’t kiss very well. I don’t know, but it makes me feel a little self-conscious. I know I don’t have much experience, and I’m not sure I want a relationship with him, but to be rejected . . .

  I head to the kitchen for a cup of hot tea and some breakfast. Zack’s already up, of course. This morning thing is killing me.

  “Good morning,” he says with a big energetic smile as he gives me a warm hug and kisses my forehead.

  I guess he’s back to the friendship thing with the forehead kisses. Fine. If that’s the way he wants it.

  “Good morning.” I hug him back and then slide into a chair at the table.

  “What’s wrong?” He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down in front of me.

  Rubbing my forehead, I look him in the eyes. “Tell me the truth, will I have to testify in court?”

  He lets out a huge sigh and stares at his coffee before meeting my eyes. “I don’t think so. Davie is dead and we have all the information we need to put Frank away for life.”

  “Then why do I have to stay here?”

  “It’s for your protection.”

  “Am I in more danger now than I will be after the trial?”

  He hesitates, then looks up and holds my gaze. “Yes,” he admits. “There’s a chance the Diaz family may retaliate. They may think that if they snatch you, they can use you as leverage against us before the trial. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m going out of my mind.”

  He’s nodding like he knows what I’m talking about. “Would you like to go out today?”

  “What do you mean?” I hope he means that we can ride into town and see some sights. Maybe eat out.

  “Let’s see what this town has to offer.”

  “Yes!” I practically shout. Excited doesn’t even begin to describe how happy I am.

  He laughs. “Okay, but first, let’s take the stitches out.”

  I forgot about that! This day just keeps getting better.

  “Brylee, are you alright?”

  Without thinking, I launch myself into his arms, throwing my own around his neck. “Yes! Thank you so much!”

  He chuckles. “You’re welcome.” When I release him, he takes my hand. “Come on, let’s get those stitches out and then we’ll get ready.”

  ~~~~

  After a hot shower, I look into the mirror. A pink scar stares back at me. It looks better than having black stitches that stand out against my pale skin. A slow smile curls my lips, and I know I’ve beaten him. I’m here and Davie’s dead.

  Browsing through the closet, I reluctantly concede that there’s nothing good to wear. I pick out the jeans that fit me best, even though they’re baggy in the butt. I throw on a faded blue sweatshirt and sigh. I have no makeup and nothing to curl my hair with so it hangs lifeless on my head. I’m a sorry sight to look at.

  Zack’s waiting on me in the living room. He looks handsome in his tight jeans and black button-up shirt.

  “Ready?” he asks as he holds out his hand.

  “I guess.”

  “You sound unhappy. What’s wrong?”

  I glance down at my clothes and then blurt, “I don’t have anything nice to wear. I can’t even fix my face or hair.” My hands flop against my sides.

  He chuckles, takes his forefinger and lifts my chin. “You look beautiful, Brylee.”

  I avert my eyes and say, “I don’t feel beautiful.”

  “Look at me,” he says. “Brylee, look at me.” When I do, he continues. “In order to have confidence, you must be comfortable with how you look. Let’s go buy you some new clothes.”

  “I can’t let you do that! And I don’t have any money.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I want to do this.”

  “I can’t—”

  “I have a credit card issued by the FBI. I think that providing you clothing after I whisked you away certainly qualifies.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He holds his hand out. “Now let’s go.” I stare at his hand for a moment and then place mine in his, and we head to the garage.

  ~~~~

  The streets are crowded as we maneuver from one shop to the other. Zack never complains while I look at rack after rack of clothes. I’m torn. I want to buy some of the items, but it doesn’t feel right using someone else’s money.

  A simple but gorgeous form-fitting red sweater snags my attention.

  “Try it on.” I jump at the sound of Zack’s voice.

  With my hand over my chest, I let out a startled breath. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” He flashes me a cheeky grin and then glances down at the sweater in my hand. “That looks nice. Why don’t you try it on?”

  “I might.”

  “Brylee,” he chastises.

  “Okay.” Not only do I try on the sweater, but I pick out a pair of jeans too.

  The sweater fits perfectly, and so do the jeans. I turn one way, then the other. Yep, I like them. I grab the dressing room door and stick my head outside. “Do you think they’ll let me wear these clothes out of here?”

  He laughs. “Yes, just give me the tags and I’ll pay for them.”

  “Okay.”

  When I walk out, I spot Zack standing at the register. Three women are waiting in line behind him. As I near, he catches sight of me and does a double take, his eyes roaming the length of my body. “Wow, you look great.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. His compliment makes me feel better, but I still can’t shake his rejection yesterday.

  We spend a few more hours looking around until Zack takes me to a nice steakhouse. It feels surreal being out like this, not having to hide, and not having to constantly look over my shoulder to see if I’m being followed. This must be what normal feels like.

  It’s crowded, so Zack adds his name to a list, changing his last name to Smith. Other couples walk in behind us, also adding their name and waiting their turn.

  The hostess escorts us to a booth. Zack slides onto the seat facing the door, while I take the other. It’s dim, a small lamp on the end of our table giving just enough light for me to see the menu.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I look up and see a young brown-haired waitress with pierced eyebrows. She’s wearing black pants and a white button-down shirt.

  “Just water.”

  Zack peers over his menu. “No wine?”

  “No. It may make me sleepy.”

  He nods, and then tells the waitress, “Make it two.”

 
; “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  When the waitress delivers our waters, Zack orders a 12-ounce rib eye while I order a 6-ounce sirloin, sweet potato, and a salad.

  He reaches over and takes my hands in his.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say. I can’t take this back-and-forth thing with him. Holding hands in a restaurant feels more like a date.

  “Do what?” His eyebrows pull close.

  “Hold my hands.” I avert my eyes, ashamed to be having this conversation.

  “I don’t understand. You don’t like me holding your hands?”

  “I don’t want you to think you have to.”

  He sighs loudly. “Brylee, you’re speaking in riddles. What’s going on?” When I don’t say anything, he squeezes my hands. “Brylee?”

  “You kissed me yesterday and then said you were sorry, you shouldn’t have kissed me. Then you treat me like a friend, and now you’re holding my hands. You don’t have to.”

  “Brylee, I really enjoyed kissing you, but you were emotionally upset and I felt like I was taking advantage of you.”

  “So it’s not because I don’t kiss very well?”

  “Good lord, why would you think that?”

  I shrug, not wanting to confess how new I am to it. He slides out of his seat and moves over to mine. “If I could kill Frank, I would.” I give him a slight smile, and he continues. “You are a beautiful, sexy woman and a great kisser. And while we’re together, I’m going to make sure you don’t forget that.” He leans in and tenderly kisses my lips.

  Afterwards, he moves back to his side of the table. I like to see his face when I talk to him.

  “This feels so strange,” I say as I look around at all the other couples sitting at the other tables. No one is paying any attention to us.

  “What does?”

  “Just going out to eat.”

  “You didn’t go out in New York?”

  “No, I was too afraid to go anywhere. I wouldn’t even tell my friends where I lived.”

  His face turns sad. “After the trial’s over, you’ll be able to have a normal life.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” He sounds so sure, it almost makes me believe it’s possible.

  The waitress sets my salad in front of me. As I eat, I try to imagine going anywhere I want and not being afraid of someone seeing me. Finding me.

  In between bites of salad, I ask Zack more about his life. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No, it’s just me.”

  “Honestly?”

  He chuckles. “Honestly.”

  Ever since I found out about all the lies he told me, he’s worked hard on my trust issues with him. He answers all my questions with no hesitation, and now I understand why he would tell half-truths and lies to someone he doesn’t know. According to him, everyone in law enforcement has trust issues. Zack says that they only see the worst of people, which makes sense.

  “What made you want to be an FBI agent?”

  “Hmm . . .” He swallows a bite of salad. The waitress picks that moment to set our steaks down in front of us. “Thank you,” he says and then directs his attention back to me. “My dad worked for the county sheriff’s office, which I admired, but the thought of catching bad guys while traveling the country really appealed to me.”

  “You like it.”

  “I do. It’s very rewarding. What about you, what would you like to do?”

  “I kept telling myself that one day I would be a nurse.”

  “But . . .”

  “But almost dying has put things into perspective. There are so many things I dream about doing in life.”

  “Like what?” he asks as he cuts into his steak.

  “That’s just it, I haven’t lived enough to know. Right now, I want to experience everything.”

  “After the trial, you’ll get your chance. You’re resilient, and I know you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  Something warms my chest. It’s a feeling that I can’t explain as I stare at him. He speaks with a matter of fact tone, one that says he honestly believes that I can do anything. Nobody has ever said that to me. A slow smile curls my lips up. “Thanks, Zack.”

  We finish our meal, Zack pays the bill, and we head for his car.

  The sun is sinking while the full moon is rising. The air is crisp and getting colder. It feels like it may snow soon.

  A Few Days Later

  Zack

  With two bags of groceries in my arms, I push open the door and carry them to the kitchen. At nine in the morning, I’m sure Brylee is still asleep.

  She doesn’t know that I drive to town once a week and call Tyler to find out what’s happening with the case.

  They stepped up the timetable, and the trial begins next month. Luca Damonte has been calling Tyler regularly, demanding to know what’s going on, when the case will go to trial, and when Brylee will return. But he doesn’t call her Brylee. To him, she’s still Ariel.

  I put the milk in the refrigerator, grab the bacon—

  “Where did you go?”

  I turn around and see Brylee standing with her arms crossed. “I made a quick run to the store while I could. Look.” I point to the window.

  She heads over with a childlike expression. “It’s snowing!” She looks over her shoulder at me with a grin. “I knew it would.”

  “You act like you haven’t seen snow before.”

  “I have, but not like this. Not in the mountains.” She giggles. “Can we go for a walk later?”

  “If you want to, but—”

  “But what?”

  “You don’t have snow boots so we’ll need to go before the snow gets too deep.”

  Her face twists in distaste. “Never mind. The thought of cold wet feet doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe we can light the gas logs, fix some tea, and find a good movie to watch.”

  “How about we go buy you some snow boots and a sled, and see if we can find a gentle slope.”

  “No riding down the mountain?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “And then tonight we can watch a movie.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan.”

  After breakfast, we wash the dishes and then head into town.

  Brylee picks out some pink snow boots while I browse the sleds.

  She looks doubtfully at the one I’m holding. “You think that will hold us?”

  “Why not?” I say and give her a cheeky grin. We pay for the items and then head back to the cabin.

  “Are you sure this will work?” Brylee asks. She’s sitting between my legs on the sled, and it’s pointed down a hill. It’s steeper than I want, but it’s the only one that looks somewhat safe.

  “No.” Using my hands, I push off. The sled flies down the hill.

  “I’m gonna killll youu. . . . !” she yells as the sled turns up on the right side, then violently turns up on the left. It feels like riding a twisted waterslide.

  We’re heading straight for a mature oak tree. “Lean left!” I yell. We barely miss it. “Right! Lean right!” We miss another tree, but then crash into a low bush.

  We both go flying through the air while the sled keeps going. I land with a thud. “Umph,” I groan. I look over at Brylee. “Are you alright?”

  “No! Whose idea was it to go sledding?” She’s slowly getting to her feet. When I finally stand, I help her up. “I’m not doing that anymore.”

  “What, you didn’t enjoy it?”

  “Everything but the crashing.” With a mischievous grin, she says, “Let’s do it again.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head.

  After a few more rides down the hill, we head back to the cabin. While she takes a hot shower, I change clothes and make some hot chocolate.

  The gas logs are lit and I’m sitting on the couch with the TV on when she walks though. She’s wearing her favorite boy shorts and a pink sweatshirt.

  “I made you some hot chocolate.” I nod to the
coffee table.

  “Thanks.” She plops down, grabs her cup, and takes a sip. “Indiana Jones? Really?” she whines.

  “Yes, really. You can choose the next one.”

  I wrap my arm around her, letting her snuggle up to my side. I’m so comfortable with her here with me. I enjoy her company, the way she’s becoming more confident. It’s an extraordinary transformation from the scared girl I talked to on the computer, to who she is now.

  Three movies later, her stomach growls.

  “I need to fix something for dinner.”

  She extracts herself from my arms. “Yeah, I’m hungry. Why don’t we just fix the frozen pizza?”

  “Fine by me.” I head over and pull the pepperoni pizza from the freezer, preheat the oven, and then turn back to face Brylee. “I talked to Tyler today.”

  “You did?” With a solemn look, she walks over and stands in front of me. “What did he say?”

  “He says the trial will start next month.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  “That’s great!”

  “I knew you’d be happy.”

  “I am.” She chews on her lower lip. “How long does a trial last?”

  “Anywhere from a few days to a few weeks.”

  “So, six more weeks at the most?”

  “Probably, but the court system is fickle and that could change at any time.” Brylee launches herself at me. Her arms circle my neck while her legs wrap around my waist. The mood instantly changes, and when she leans back in my arms, I kiss her. Tentatively at first, then with more force as my tongue seeks hers and she’s kissing me back. Her hands squeeze my shoulders. Without breaking the kiss, I walk her over and sit her on the counter.

  Still kissing her luscious lips, my fingers skim the inside of her thighs, pushing them apart.

  Brylee breaks the kiss, and with labored breathing, she says, “I’m sorry, Zack. I can’t.” She rests her forehead against my shoulder.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. I got caught up in the moment and let things go too far.”

  I try to will my erection down and think clearly. Swallowing hard, I ask, “You still have feelings for Luca?”

  “I don’t think that matters. I’m sure he’s moved on by now.”