Secondhand secrets, p.14
Secondhand Secrets, page 14
His white shirt fluttered in the breeze as did the longer wisps of toffee brown hair along his hairline, all while he held his silence.
She’d poured her heart out only for him to leave her hanging. Did he really have nothing? Her throat constricted with a burgeoning cry, but she nodded her acceptance and turned away.
“It hurts me too.”
She paused at his statement, which echoed through the open space, the gravity in his tone forcing her to twist back and catch the hard press of his jaw, a muscle ticking under his light stubble there.
His skin paled to match the silver moonlight, a hint that maybe, for the first time in his life, he grappled with the difficulties of not knowing. Like he questioned every aspect of what he did. Whether he’d said too much. Or should say more.
“It hurts me to see you and Sarah fighting.” His brow drew down, as did his lips, into another reluctantly lost look. “And even though it seems irrational, it hurts to hear about your past feelings for Dean. Ally, do you know that I spent years in Boston just wanting to jump on the first plane back to Harlow? Back home? And yes, back to you?”
A dull pain spread through her chest, her heart being the epicenter of all that hurt.
She swallowed at the thickness in her throat, those tight muscles refusing to remain silent while warning that her ensuing raspy voice would hold her raw emotions out for him to hear. “But you moved on eventually, didn’t you? And look at you now.”
She thrust a hand out to him. Out to his inordinately handsome exterior. Out to this man with a world of shiny promises clambering at his feet.
But the man, with all his promises, only deepened his frown, those overly astute eyes narrowing at her. “I wasn’t finished.”
He strode two paces closer, his larger torso caging her in between him and her car. “I never wanted to leave. That promise I asked Sarah to keep, it was an act of desperation, not a desire to hold you back, Ally. For a time there, whether you knew it or not, you and your friendship were my entire world. Now that I’m in Harlow again, do you know what I see every time I look at you?”
The question brought her inner world to a stunned stand-still, capturing her ability to move, much less offer an answer. What did he see when he looked at her? What did she see when she looked at him?
Don’t answer that. It’s a trick. Don’t answer him.
Both questions were loaded with pitfalls, two forbidden doors best left locked, so she compromised with a numb shake of her head.
He pressed his lips into a thin line, a sign of disappointment directed at her lack of effort. “It’s impossible not to look at you and wonder how different our lives would be if I’d never left.”
Cold shock returned, and she stumbled back, the frame of her car hitting her shoulder blades. Oh, that’s right, he had her trapped. But she didn’t want to imagine the alternative. All those lost years, found. Years where he stayed, and they…
They…
They… what?
“You really think we would have been together?” Her raspy tone remained, and she fought with her conscience.
Truth was, had she not met him again—years later and as a near stranger—the fickle part of her might have still wasted years dismissing him as just a friend.
He gave a small shrug, and a gentle smile tugged the corners of his lips upward, forever endearing, a clue he enjoyed knocking her off-center.
“Maybe, we would have been together.” He reached out and brushed her chin with his knuckle. “Though you probably would have dumped me the moment Dean came to town.”
A broken chuckle detached from deep within her, and an unexpected tear rolled down her cheek. Meanwhile, his smile grew wider, like he knew her.
He’d only just met the “grown-up” Ally, and still… he knew her.
She moved to swipe the heel of her palm over her wet cheek, but Chip got there first, shifting in closer and proving again that he would always be at least one step ahead of her.
Why does he like me? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, why does this man even like me?
All she wanted now was for him to kiss her. To drown out the dull ache in her heart and the questions swirling in her head.
Maybe she wasn’t quite up to his standards. Maybe she was a complete flake. But she’d never been called dishonest, so perhaps the truth would compensate for some of her flaws.
She lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. “I have to admit, all those years ago, I did begin to suspect you had a thing for me. I just… I didn’t know how I felt. More precisely, I was scared of how I felt.”
He lifted one brow in a wordless question.
She gave a weak shrug, face heating at her admittedly understandable immaturity at the time. “I don’t know, maybe because I’d begun to feel at least a little the same.”
He gave a rueful grimace, his gaze fluttering about her face before he replied, “Now, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
His hands made contact with her waist, and she allowed her eyes to drop momentarily shut at the warm strength of his touch. “All I’m saying is, maybe there was just a smidgen more to me asking you to kiss me before you left.”
“Ally.” He growled her name in a soft warning.
But that warning, and the clear affect her admission had on him, had the power once more shifting in her favor. She didn’t even try to hold on to her next easy smile. “And another thing, I’m kinda glad you didn’t kiss me. Can you imagine two awkward teens, with way too many cringe-worthy years ahead of us, before we landed in the place we are now? Maybe we needed those years apart just to figure ourselves out.”
The low set of his brow lifted and genuine light entered his eyes, like he joined in her humor now, happy to let her lead. “And where are we now?”
As much as she pulled her grin wider, the attempt at being care-free faded, and the muscles in her throat crushed her voice to a soft whisper. “At a place where I can genuinely appreciate you.”
The sting returned to the back of her eyes. This time, for an entirely different reason. “You and I, we were so close, yah know? Sure, I got on okay when you left, but I never did find someone to click with like I did with you. I don’t think Harlow ever felt more like home than these last few days with you back—”
Chip’s mouth crashed over hers, stealing her words, stealing her desire to care how this all looked to anyone passing by.
All she felt was his hungry need for her, an apt reply to the heat that still simmered within her since their reunion at the ball game. Now, his body pushed her hard against her car, her own desire embracing the pressure.
If she’d feared her persistent ache for him might swallow her whole, that fear now stepped aside to allow her to pull him closer, to grasp at the seemingly never-ending struggle to get her fill.
What with all the hot and heavy clawing, she must have crushed her keys in her purse and pressed the alarm button because just then, her car’s siren screeched to life.
The close horn-and-whoop combination struck like a drill to her brain, her heart jolting to an impossible clip and fit to pop. Chip laughed and untangled himself, giving her space for a frenzied search for her keys. He cupped his hands to his ears while she lacked the same luxury.
Just as she disabled the alarm, she peered up at him, the gold in his eyes a true glitter, his lips twisted in a poor attempt to hold back more laughter. But being the sympathetic sort—or maybe just experiencing the relief of escaping that sound—her own laugh broke free on a loud howl, and she pushed her hands to his chest in a jest for him to get away from her.
Every time she tried to gather her senses, her gaze met his, and she fell apart again. That he now joined her only meant that a solid minute passed before they won the struggle to regain control.
Her tummy ached, and she pressed her fingers to the inner corners of her eyes, stemming more tears. He reached out and put his hands on her hips, pulling her in for a kiss. A kiss that brought a sudden hush to her otherwise frantic soul.
“Get in the car and drive.” His voice hit her on a molten whisper, and he turned her to her still-open car door, dropping another scintillating kiss to the side of her neck. “It’s safe to say we never finished what we started yesterday.”
Twenty-One
Long before Mark’s chauffeur-driven car rolled to a stop in front of his new building, a group of eager-to-please suck-ups gathered at the curb ready to meet him. He shook his head behind the tinted glass and pulled his sunglasses from the beige console beside him in the backseat, quick to obscure his eyes.
Only a small handful of people knew his true identity or his plans here. Everyone else was meaningless. The quicker these blow-hards learned not to bother with groveling, the easier life would be for all.
He steeled his focus forward and away from the horde until his driver stepped out and held his door open, the man quick to push people back and leave room for him to cross the pavement.
What he did now was an act of pure theater, one where he set the tone for how others should treat him. As was customary, he’d already paid-off and fired this company’s board. And given the excess money he’d blown, they’d provided Mark early sway on certain projects and allowed him to place a few, choice calls.
The official change of power complete, the building’s giant tinted sliding doors welcomed him. His Italian leather shoes made first contact with the cavernous foyer’s glossy dark tile. Black and blue fixtures stared back at him. The classic colors of a tech company. A palette he’d always very much enjoyed.
Inside, more people stopped to stare, but he powered on toward the glass lifts, one of which designated for his use only. Yet another thing he’d negotiated in his plan to set the scene here.
And make no mistake. This was all part of a greater plan. A masterclass in revenge, so far beyond anything anyone at the Syndicate could hope to execute. No, they would have merely sought to kill Sarah and Dean, but Mark had more talent and brains than all of them.
He’d done his research. He’d found Chip Overton. Found Stonewall. Then set the wheels in motion to capture both. Now the clock ticked on what would be his magnum opus.
Nothing here would resemble the actions of a low-level street thug. He’d move beyond basic theft and violence. He’d co-ordinate the same perfect dance he’d performed time and time again, albeit on a smaller scale.
A dance called, Shared Liability.
He paused before the lift’s doors and ventured to turn his head. To lower his glasses and eye the bold and glowing sign above the entry’s big sliding doors. A sign that merely said Encode.
Chip Overton would return to Boston. He’d give his presentation and hand over access to his code, no threats or theft from Mark required, and he’d even go so far as to ensure all Mr. Overton’s dreams came true.
He’d win his coveted Graduate’s grant…
Then sign the rights to Stonewall away.
So easy. So above board. Overton would simply hand over Stonewall and his entire life. Because liability bought obedience.
Whatever Mark’s deplorable plans for Stonewall, Chip would be implicated. He’d incriminate himself in speaking out. He’d also die just trying. So being a quintessential spineless geek, he’d have no choice but to dedicate his life’s work to making Mark richer.
Twenty-Two
A week later, Ally sat amongst fifty other guests in her parent’s back garden. Her mom and sister sat on wooden deck chairs beside her, a fragrant barbecue sizzling clear across the yard, where Chip stood chatting to a few others.
What had started out as a small family party for him had turned into something much bigger since word of the event had gotten out, and Harlowans liked to take on the personal mission of inviting themselves and everyone they knew to these kinds of things.
It wasn’t all bad though. No one in Harlow ever showed up without a tray of food or a cooler of drinks to share, and the extra people added life and community to this party.
Aggie, the sheriff, Gordon, Blaine and Emilia, even Dean and Sarah had swung by. Though Sarah held a tense and reluctant air about her, she wasn’t to know that Ally understood her a little more now and intended to make nice later on in the day.
Ally caught Chip’s stare and offered a wave, the other guys—Dean, Blaine, and Gordon—predictably smart-ass enough to wave back at her along with Chip.
Ally’s mom laughed, although her light brown eyes held a slight sheen. “I’m so happy for you. Your art business is coming along, and you have Chip back.”
“Thanks.” Despite the lighthearted response, Ally frowned at the iced tea nestled between her palms in her lap. Her mom best not to pin her happiness on Chip being any kind of permanent fixture or Ally’s ceramics turning any real profit.
“I’m still waiting on my thank-you, by the way.” Laila smiled over at Ally while she bounced a giggling Whitney on her knee. “Wasn’t I the one who angled for you two the day Chip first came over?”
Ally pitched a flat stare. “That’s not when things happened for us.”
Her sister dipped her chin in a disbelieving manner, her stare boring into Ally in a way that only older siblings could do, the sort of stare that always melted her resolve.
“Okay, fine.” Ally swept a hand upward and released a groan. “We kissed.”
Laila flopped back into her seat and let loose a loud laugh, instant shame forcing Ally to elaborate. “But we regretted it instantly.”
Laila’s laugh only intensified, and she doubled forward, shifting Whitney off her knee and lowering the tall glass in her hand to the nearby slatted table. “Chip that bad a kisser, huh?”
Ally tried so hard to press her lips together and hold back any amusement, only to abandon her defenses and join in on her sister’s goof balling. “None of your business.”
“Oh, no.” Laila chuckled some more, only pausing to wipe tears from her eyes. “That must mean you’re the bad kisser!”
Though still giggling, Ally twisted and grabbed an outdoor cushion from behind her and then tossed it at her sister. “Stop it, you—”
She caught a glimpse of her mom, her lips curled in a small smile, and her far-off gaze stuck on her boisterous daughters. Laila glanced to their mom too and released a sigh, a short hush descending between the women.
“Seriously though, I’m glad you and Chip are having fun.” Laila’s lips pressed into a heartfelt grin in Ally’s direction. “Those early days of being in love are something special.”
Ally’s heart swelled at the chink in her sister’s support, Laila’s ordeal from young love to single-motherhood a cautionary tale that sent Ally’s attention back to Chip.
The experience of sitting here amongst all her family and friends—the cozy sense of belonging—narrowed her feelings for Chip into sobering focus.
Yeah, sure, she wanted adventure and time away from this little town, but wanting that and wanting him felt selfish.
Her mom’s smile dropped, and deep shadows overtook the space below her eyes. That worry-filled expression confirmed Ally’s fears and made her heart slow to a fast and thudding beat.
Chip’s imminent return to Boston already lit a constant wish in her to drop everything and follow him, which only left her in an increasingly difficult position.
Lose these people. Or lose him.
No matter what happens, I lose.
She took a deep swallow against the lump forming in her throat and blinked up to find Laila peering over the rim of her tea glass, her analytical stare seeming to catch Ally’s reticence. “How’s things with the Argyle deal? Any news?”
Ally set to peering across the yard again and shrugged, her attempt to appear casual likely failing. Laila had been a know-it-all since the day she was born, intuitive about everything but her own personal life, that is.
Laila did know because Ally’s insides did a little flip every time she thought about the whole Argyle thing. Her art had a chance of becoming more than something she alone enjoyed. More than a side project or the occasional bit of loose change in her pocket.
“No word yet.” She braved looking at her sister again, offering a carefree smile. “They might not even tell Emilia if the answer is no.”
Laila made a breathy pfft sound with her lips and swatted her hand as if to dismiss the idea. “Emilia won’t let them slip away quietly. The woman’s stubborn in the best sorta way.”
Ally glanced back to her uncharacteristically silent mother, her fallen gaze rising from the lush lawn, along with another weak smile that scrubbed away all pretense of happiness.
Though Ally opened her mouth to ask if her mom was okay, her mom shook her head and rejected any show of concern.
“Big things are coming your way, Ally Bear.” She paused while her chin gave a perceptible wobble. “I can just feel it.”
Ally moved to stand, to get closer to her mom and extend some comfort, but her mom shot a hand out, once more shutting down an offer of help.
Instead, her mother pushed out of her seat, a wet tear rolling down her cheek and over the light makeup she’d bothered to wear that day while she choked out a broken, “Excuse me.”
Twenty-Three
Chip raised the beer in his hand high in the air and stumbled back just as a child from the party crashed through the huddle he had going with Blaine, Dean, and Gordon at the barbecue.
“So much for a quiet family thing.” Dean fixed his attention on Chip with a shrug. “You should start worrying this event is less about welcoming you back and more about convincing you to stay.”
Dean’s suggestion had Chip slipping his gaze to Ally seated with her mother and sister, his heart shifting as she waved. He waved back and forced an easy smile, the other guys figuring it would be funny to do the same.
Their chuckles surrounded him, as his thoughts clung to how less complicated life was around here. These people, his first home and community, so quick to welcome him back like a much-loved family member. The pace was slower with less pressure to tie himself into knots trying to impress.
