Secondhand secrets, p.2
Secondhand Secrets, page 2
Sure enough, Emilia did make her way toward them. Not that Blaine noticed, his brows still pressed together in a quizzical stare. “What did you study again? Computer something…”
“Computer science.”
Though Chip’s attention kept bouncing between Ally and Blaine, Blaine snapped his fingers and pointed to Chip. “That’s right. At MIT. And I hear you finished top of your class.”
Now Chip’s focus clung to Ally, his stiff gaze unreadable, while the bell to resume play now rang. Somehow, that tight expression pulled into a tiny smile, just as confusing as his previous look. “I better get back out there.”
Even though he spoke to the group at large, his message seemed meant for her alone, and then just like ten years prior, he turned and walked away.
And just like ten years ago, he stopped and peered over his shoulder to her one last time. Except, unlike ten years ago, there weren’t any tears. Only his renewed smile and a quick wink. His unspoken promise to see her again.
Three
“Must have been weird seeing Ally again.”
Chip turned from the stove in his home—once Sarah’s home, and before that, their childhood home—his sister’s steadfast amber gaze now holding firm from her position at the pale-wood dining table.
Oh, right, she wants an answer.
“Yeah, it was.” He poked at a steak sizzling in the pan, limiting his reaction to those three understated words. This was his first sit-down dinner with his sister and her new fiancé in his three days back in Harlow.
And even in those three days, he’d figured he’d see Ally eventually, but no amount of mental preparation had slowed the racing of his heart when he’d finally met her.
Just the first lock of gazes hit him with an onslaught of emotion, then came the pure ease of speaking with her again. He’d clung to her every word and reaction. Yearned for hours together to reconnect, instead of those mere few minutes.
What still baffled him now was how one short conversation could obliterate an entire decade of absence. Even more confusing, he hadn’t thought about much more than her in the long hours since…
Dean wandered into the bright, open-plan dining area, his added height and piercing blue eyes, turning all “wandering” into a somewhat intense stalk.
“You and Ally still haven’t ironed out your differences, have you?” He peered at his new fiancée and took a seat at the table beside her.
Sarah toyed with the carrot stick in her hand, her gaze falling to the tabletop while she shook her head.
“You two are fighting?” Chip switched the stove off and turned his full attention to his sister.
Even with Sarah’s perpetually prickly personality, he couldn’t imagine Ally being all that combative.
Maybe she’s changed…
“I wish we were fighting.” Sarah let out a rough laugh and met his gaze. “That day at Maynard’s, you know, the one when Emilia realized Dean was a Syndicate member, and he got arrested? Well, Ally said something about being glad she’s a wallflower, and she hasn’t spoken to me since.”
Chip frowned. Ally instigated this rift?
He couldn’t imagine her holding a grudge against anyone, let alone Sarah. They’d been friends for years. And why would she call herself a wallflower?
His past perceptions of Ally as mischievous, but harmless, took a hard dent. Now, he stared at Sarah in her fitted, white tank top, looking about ready to leave for a run, even though she wasn’t. As usual, the act of sitting still seemed unnatural on her. “What happened?”
“Let’s see, aside from the fact that our friendship began after you begged me to hover around Ally and keep her safe in your absence?” She shrugged and bit into her carrot stick, sending him a taunting sort of stare.
“Now, that’s a copout.” He shook his head, turning to the steak’s savory scent on the stove. “Every time you visited me in Boston, you had some funny story about Ally. Promises aside, you both got along just fine.”
He pierced a steak and dropped it on a plate, soon ferrying it over to his sister.
She held a hand out and took the food offering, her gaze pinned up at him. “Well then, I guess when you’ve known someone long enough, you’re bound to hit some trouble eventually…”
“No.” Dean let out a sigh, his attention falling to his fingertips already drumming a steady beat on the table. “Ally’s outright pissed at you. What did I say about letting that whole charade of us not being together run on too long? You let her believe that I was free to date, leading her to a humiliating attempt to get my attention. She thinks you lied.”
“Hey”—she swatted out a hand and gave Dean a weak tap on the bicep—“you lied too!”
“I was just some blow-in from L.A.” He didn’t return her offended glare, his perpetually unaffected gaze somehow more impactful. “You were her best friend.”
The tension on her face slipped away, the closest Sarah would get to an admission of guilt. “Well, ‘the charade’ was your idea.”
New light entered Dean’s eyes, and he reached out, bumping a knuckle to Sarah’s chin. “Only because you wouldn’t commit to going out with me.”
Something about the soft moment between these two brought a heaviness to Chip’s gut. Not an unusual feeling since his return.
“Whatever.” She half-heartedly rolled her eyes and turned back to Chip, who distracted himself with delivering the remaining plates. “Anyway, back in the day, you two might as well have been conjoined twins, and it looked like you both got along great today too. So… I guess that means you’ll be a married man by the end of this week, and Little Ally Egan’s wedding dreams will finally come true.”
“Hey!” Dean’s voice was a low warning. “Too far.”
“What?” Sarah gave an oblivious shrug. “You wouldn’t think it possible to be both clingy and flighty, but somehow, Ally nails it.”
Chip took a seat, albeit slowly, his sidelong stare held to his sister. So much animosity.
Sure, the friendship had soured, but Sarah’s “joke” edged on cruel, as though she sought to one-up Ally’s rejection.
That was the way with close relationships, wasn’t it? The arguments were uglier. The hurt, deeper. He’d seen that in his parents’ divorce.
None of this would have happened if I’d been able to stay.
And maybe he’d been wrong to ask his sister to look out for Ally…
Speaking of Ally, what did Sarah mean about “Little Ally Egan’s wedding dreams”? That, plus the wallflower remark, painted a confusing image.
Come to think of it, so did Ally’s anger over Sarah’s secrecy—partly justified—but for this long and with this level of lingering friction? There had to be more to their fight, his concerns stuck less on what caused the discord, so much as his failure to understand who Ally Egan had become over the years.
Sarah was the type to keep most pertinent details private and he couldn’t count on asking her, but he had three weeks in town to uncover the truth, so he’d drop the subject of Ally for now. Maybe focus on forming his own opinions of her.
“How are you settling in?” Dean’s question knocked Chip from his musing; the man’s steady stare seeming to register more than he gave away, perhaps a symptom of his military past.
“It’s strange being back in our childhood home, that’s for sure.” Chip embraced the change in topic and pitched a genuine smile to his sister. “But thanks for the great timing, Sis. I’ve set up my computer, and the quieter setting means I’m powering through my project.”
She laughed and kissed Dean on the cheek. “We’re happy to help.”
“So…” This time Dean spoke. “I keep hearing that you’re kind of a big deal?”
Chip gave a tight laugh and peered down at his plate, using the pretense of scooping up potato mash as an excuse to not look anyone in the eye. “Sure, if being a big deal means keeping good grades and having an idea with some potential. Other than that…”
“Still way more than most ‘round these parts.” Sarah nudged his leg under the table—just like when they’d been little and his mind wandered—once again succeeding to shift his attention to what she had to say. “You’re working on your own idea straight out of college. If not now, then when, right?”
Except so much rode on his success, his latest idea for an encryption program named Stonewall being the difference between proving his dad wrong and having to live out the frivolous life he’d otherwise planned for Chip.
“While true, Sister, I probably do need to start earning some money one day.” He pointed his fork at Sarah, a square of steak still on the end. “Unless Stonewall secures some funding, that day might be sooner than I’d like.”
He couldn’t keep living under his dad’s sway forever, and finding people to hand over large wads of cash wasn’t all that simple either. He needed investors who understood what his work meant for the global information security infrastructure. People with money and technical knowledge. People who could give him the financial security to be free of his dad.
Thanks to him, who I am, and who everyone thinks I am, are two different people.
“What exactly is Stonewall, anyway?” Dean’s gaze bounced between Chip and Sarah.
“Oh, that’s right, I heard you’re a bit of a tech fan.” Chip lowered his fork, still hungry post-baseball game and wondering when he’d get another bite in. “Stonewall deals in information security. I’ll start with email encryption, but the program’s scope could be much wider. That said, working with sensitive data means Stonewall needs to be flawless, and with a host of bugs to iron out, I’m slammed with things to do. Which brings me to Harlow. So quiet. So little distraction.”
Sarah scoffed, making a show of fake-choking on whatever food sat in her mouth. “Yeah, right. Don’t be deceived. This town is way more dramatic and distracting than it lets on.”
She had a point. What with her failed engagement to Blaine, then meeting Dean, plus all the Syndicate’s carnage through town, Harlow had delivered some major upheaval. Which brought him to his other secret reason for returning.
Two months ago, Dean’s past with the Syndicate had come to a head with Sarah being taken hostage. Though Dean saved her, the whole saga helped Chip to see past his sister’s constant strong act and be the one to visit her… for a change.
Once again, his mind wandered, and she nudged him under the table, sending forth her bright smile. “Either way, I’m proud of you.”
Not used to praise, he set on a silent retreat to his meal, reveling in his reducing hunger and his ability to cook a juicy steak while occasionally glancing back at his sister.
In so many ways, she looked like him. Her general facial features plus her tall, lean build. Except for her hair, which was much longer, straighter, and honey toned to his deeper bronze.
“Who’d have thought”—he shook his head and speared some salad from his plate—“Sarah Overton, falling head over heels, much less for an out-of-towner.”
She picked up a paper napkin, scrunched it, and then tossed it at his chest. “Like you can talk, Mr. Perpetually Single.”
He laughed and tossed the napkin back at her, the thing quick to land just shy of her plate. “Perpetually Single? Settling down straight out of high school is more a Harlow thing, remember?”
“And you’re out of college now, twenty-four and still a bachelor, which makes you a geriatric single by local standards.” She tossed the napkin back, a white blur through the air that he caught a moment before it hit his face.
“And you only got engaged today.” He threw the napkin again. “And older than me. That makes you a bonafide old maid.”
A slow smirk took over Dean’s face, his focus directed to Sarah clutching the napkin in her palm, her lips parted in a stupefied stare. “Do I need to remind you I was engaged to Blaine for a moment there? No need to put me out to pasture just yet.”
“No one’s doing that.” Dean outstretched a hand, collecting the napkin before it could make another trip across the table, a solid chuckle belying his amusement. “Now, you two settle down. And Sarah, let the man have his fun while he can.”
Her eyes narrowed toward her fiancé before she unleashed a series of playful pinches to his shoulder. “You saying I’m not fun? I’m plenty fun.”
Dean laughed and tried to swat her away, abandoning that idea for pulling her onto his lap and covering her in a spate of kisses.
Genuinely happy for his sister, Chip averted his gaze and allowed her time to enjoy the cozy moment. She no longer had to battle life in Harlow alone. A life of running the old family business—Harlow’s one and only bar, Maynard’s—where she’d parleyed her dreams of playing international tennis so that those with limited work options here could keep their job. All while he’d been whisked away to live with his dad in Boston.
Meanwhile, Chip never engaged in much more than a few short-term flings, his focus set on his studies and not wasting his chance at a world beyond what Sarah had. He owed her. Owed himself. And he wasn’t totally free from the trauma of coming from a fractured family. Nor his desire for a future that looked nothing like his past.
But Sarah and Dean’s relationship offered hope. She’d survived. Found contentment. Maybe Chip would get there too.
His thoughts inexplicably slipped to Ally. Maybe because of their recent encounter. Or because he’d never been so close to anyone as he’d been to her. Or because the age-old pain of being pried away lingered in the ache now filling his stomach.
But other things endured beyond those more bitter memories, like the ease with which they’d talked today and his instant calm in her presence.
That said, maturity brought complexity and understanding, and he never made a big decision without doing a little research. So, he’d find out more. More about her. More about how they fit together now. Or even whether they fit together at all.
Four
The very next afternoon, Chip began his fact-finding mission on Ally. The majority of his day had already been spent trying to untangle a particularly complex algorithm at home.
Now, the low sun exuded its orange glow across Harlow’s Main Street, the surrounding smell of dry earth and summer grass rising up to reward his hard-fought victory in escaping his work.
That smell. This street’s century-old stores. The lack of foot traffic. Every contrasting detail to Boston pulled at his childhood memories of Harlow.
There’d been skipping down this brickwork sidewalk. The regular pursuit of candy at Frank and Maureen Cooper’s general store. And of course, Ally always at Chip’s side.
Though a few unfamiliar shops now lined the strip, one thing that hadn’t changed was the late afternoon closures. As always, Harlow lived and worked at its own pace. No twenty-four-hour convenience stores. And forget about buying anything on a Sunday.
Not that he’d left his house for the shopping, anyway.
“Chip?”
Bingo. That bright, feminine lilt, and her tone twisting his name upward into a question. Ally’s voice was already imprinted on his memory. He didn’t need to redirect his gaze off the storefront to his side to know who spoke.
Though she wore a frown and pulled the doors to Oak Tree Furniture closed behind her, he leveled a smile and waved, the jovial ting of the door’s bell conspiring right along with him.
“Hey, Ally.” He played casual and strolled closer, a light sensation working through his muscles at the chance to speak her name. To the woman herself. After so many years.
Her open surprise faded, and a slow smile spread over her face. Like she was genuinely glad to see him. Good. Very good. Especially now he stood close enough to indulge in the faint scent of candy and sunshine floating off her skin, her perfume matching her look and energy. Delightful. Sweet. As did her silver blue eyes shining up at him.
Like new cut crystal.
“Ten years of nothing, and now two run-ins in as many days.” Her smile weakened, and she narrowed her eyes. “That’s some strange karma, dontcha think?”
“I was bound to return eventually.” He brightened his expression to balance hers.
“You were?” Her lips turned flat and disbelieving, like she’d never once believed he’d come back to this town, only for the naturally mischievous glimmer to return to her eyes.
His hands ached to reach out and hug her, just as they’d done yesterday, his palms recalling the sumptuous heat of her body and the firmness of her narrow frame. But the shine had dimmed from that introduction, and her gaze held more questions today. More doubt.
Not that he blamed her. He had doubts and questions too.
He ran his attention over her again, her hair so much shorter these days, her scraggly long locks exchanged for a sharp do that skimmed her chin—a carefree look that suited what he recalled of her personality. But the color. The color shone the same, not much different to the platinum hue of sunbeams breaking through cloud.
A little shocked at that observation, as well as his desire to reach out and sweep a wayward lock from her cheek, he shifted back, saving them both from an awkward moment.
Still, her gaze flitted about his face too. A sign that she sensed the weight in his pause, her sudden turn down the sidewalk confirming his theory. “What brings you to Main Street, anyway?”
“Just wanted to visit the old stomping ground.” He fell in stride with her. “I definitely didn’t come here hoping to see you.”
Despite his frolic with sarcastic flirting, his better judgement told him to remember Sarah’s warning. Clingy and flighty. What had she meant by that?
Ally glanced at him, a child-like excitement rising in her eyes again, the equally jubilant long flow of her rainbow-colored skirt fluttering in her wake. “Really, you came to see me?”
“I figured you might let me walk you home while we got reacquainted.” He took in more details. Her hot-pink tank top under a sunset pink cardigan. The woman sure wore a lot of pink, although she wore it well. And the turquoise bangles clanging at her wrists said more about how quirky femininity had replaced the ragtag fashion of her girlhood. “Sarah mentioned you usually close for Blaine around now.”
