Best Kept Secrets (Complete Series) Read online

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I’m sorry, Charlie. Work has just been…” He paused then, blowing out a breath like he realized as much as I did that nothing he could say, no excuse he had, would make it better. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  Part of me wanted to cry. Part of me just wanted him to go away.

  “Okay.”

  I’m not sure how long Cameron sat there before he finally kissed my forehead and made his way to the bathroom to shower. He didn’t come to bed right away, but I didn’t care. The wine was pulling me into a deep sleep by the time he’d started running the water, anyway.

  A little after midnight, he finally crawled into bed, curling into me from behind. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck, but I pretended to still be asleep. He held me so long I began to sweat. Once he started snoring softly, I rolled away from him.

  And sometime later that night, when we were both fast asleep, Edward died.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Reese

  It was just a normal Monday.

  I was hopped up after two cups of coffee and a cigarette on my drive into school. It was surprisingly warm for late February, so much so that I was able to walk across campus to the main hall with my coat hanging over my arm. It wouldn’t last long, they were already calling for more snow in the coming week, but I’d take what I could get.

  A few students were playing card games by the flag pole out front, Sierra and Sheldon were whispering to each other as I passed them in the hall, and Mr. Henderson was biting his tongue as a parent yelled at him outside his office. I gave him a sympathetic smile as I passed, to which he responded with a slight widening of his eyes before he zeroed back in on the parent. I chuckled, stopping by the teachers’ café to refill my Thermos.

  Mondays often required three or more cups of coffee.

  Instead of heading straight to my classroom, I veered right, making my way down to Charlie’s room with one hand in the pocket of my slacks. I whistled the tune of a song I’d been practicing with my Saturday tutoring student, my stomach flipping a bit at the thought of seeing Charlie. I knew I’d have to hear about her anniversary, that she’d probably be glowing and happy. That alone should have made me happy — but it only made me sick with want.

  We’d fallen into an easy friendship ever since the fundraiser, but it didn’t change the fact that I wanted her. I thought maybe I’d wake up that next morning after game night with a realization that I was being stupid. I thought maybe I’d realize that the best thing I could do for her would be to leave her alone.

  But one night of sleep only solidified how I’d felt that night. It only took that one full night with Cameron for me to determine that he didn’t deserve her, that he didn’t make her happy, and that he hadn’t for a while.

  I did also determine that the likelihood of him cheating on Charlie was slim.

  I still believed the rumors I’d heard from Sheldon and Sierra had to have come from somewhere, that they must have held some amount of truth, but Cameron was smart. He was quiet and calculated, and very aware of Charlie when he was with her. It was like he was fine-tuned to be in sync with her, but somewhere along the line, a screw had come loose. Now, he watched her in a way that made me think she drove him mad just as much as she made him love her.

  It just didn’t make sense that he would cheat on her, that he would do something so brash — not when he reacted the way he did to me just being in the same proximity of her.

  Then again — was that his guilty conscience? Was that him seeing the signs of infidelity, or what he thought were the signs?

  Regardless of if he cheated on her or not, I knew Cameron didn’t make Charlie happy. Not anymore. She could deny it all she wanted to me, and she could get as giddy as she wanted on the anniversary of their wedding — but the truth was in every touch they shared in front of me, in every look she gave him that went completely unnoticed. Charlie was desperate for Cameron to love her the way he used to, and he was oblivious.

  Just a man.

  A stupid, unassuming man.

  But he wasn’t the only one. I was just the same, a stupid, unassuming man — especially on that particular Monday morning. I was so convinced that all I wanted was to see Charlie happy. I thought I could sit back and be patient, let it all play out, and maybe even be okay with the fact that she’d never be mine, if that’s what it came down to.

  Maybe, in a sick way, it was a game to me. I knew I was under her skin, that I had her attention, but she was fighting it. Cameron knew it, too. Maybe that’s all I thought it ever would be. A game.

  Until I rounded the corner into her classroom that morning and saw her sobbing.

  Not crying, not sniffling, but completely broken down to her very core.

  Her tiny face was crumpled in devastation, tissues balled up in each of her fists, back rounded and hair hanging all around her red, blotchy face as she stared at a photo on her desk.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t about me or Cameron. It wasn’t about who would win. It wasn’t about marriage or infidelity or sex or love or betrayal or anything I thought before.

  It was about her.

  It had always been about her.

  My chest split in two at the sight of her like that, and I made my way carefully to her desk, bending on one knee next to her. I didn’t ask her what was wrong. Instead, I placed one hand on her lower back and smoothed my thumb over the thick fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes at my touch, face twisting as if my tenderness had caused her even more pain.

  “The kids are going to be here in less than twenty minutes,” she said in a weak, broken voice. “And I can’t… I can’t pull it together.”

  “Robin can handle the kids for a while if you need time. Do you want to go to the library? Your car?”

  She shook her head, using the tissue in one hand to wipe at her raw nose. “No, no I want to be here with them. I just… I need a minute to calm down.”

  “Okay,” I said, still smoothing her back with my hand. “Wanna talk about it?”

  Charlie sucked her lips between her teeth, fighting against another wave of tears. “Edward died last night.”

  “Edward?”

  “One of my birds.”

  Her Budgies. She’d told me all about them, and I realized that was the photo on her desk she had been staring at when I walked in — one of the two birds in their cage with a beautiful sepia tone light coming in through the window behind them.

  “Shit, Charlie. I’m so sorry. Last night?”

  She nodded.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, searching my brain for the right words to make her feel better. Words never made me feel anything but more pain. Music had always been my healer.

  I swallowed.

  “Hey, why don’t you come by my place after school? I’ve got a dozen bottles of wine collecting dust — housewarming presents from neighbors and such. And I’ve been working on this new piece, an ode to my family. I was thinking it could maybe be the first original piece I played at my new gig. I’d love you to take a listen and tell me what you think.”

  Charlie was already shaking her head before I’d even gotten the first sentence out. “I just want to go home.”

  “To be alone?” I asked. “I know there’s a home game for the Penguins tonight. Sitting at the house by yourself is just going to make you feel worse.”

  “But I need to be there for Jane.”

  The other bird, I thought. “Bring her, too. Maybe she can give me some pointers.”

  Charlie almost smiled, but then her face broke again, and she buried her eyes in her hands.

  Shit. I was just making it worse.

  “Look,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face so I could meet her eyes with mine. “The offer stands if you want to take it. Otherwise, lay in bed all night and eat ice cream or whatever else it is that might make you feel a little better. It’s okay to be sad, I was just offering a li
ttle bit of distraction and company. Okay?”

  She sniffed. “Okay.”

  “Okay. I’m going to get out of here so I stop making you cry more,” I said with a smile. “And I’m going to ask Robin to play a game with the kids in the hallway before class. Just to buy you a few more minutes. Alright?”

  Charlie nodded, and I had to fight against every nerve in my body not to lean in and kiss her forehead in that moment. I stood instead, rubbing my hand over her back once more before I made my way toward the door.

  “He forgot.”

  She said the words when my hand was on the door frame, ready to swing me around and into the hallway, but I stopped cold in my tracks.

  “Cameron…” she clarified. “He forgot yesterday was our anniversary.”

  Son of a bitch.

  I turned slowly, taking in the look on her face as I debated what to say. Sorry felt cheap and insufficient, and everything I really wanted to say would only upset her more.

  “He’s been so busy with work, I guess the days must have gotten away from him,” I said after a moment. I held her gaze, pinning her with my eyes, hoping she heard what I really meant.

  He’s an asshole. He doesn’t deserve you. You could be happier.

  I could make you happier.

  “I’m sure he feels terrible,” I added, just for good measure.

  Charlie forced a small smile. “Yeah. He said he’ll make it up to me.”

  And maybe I was just making it up in my head, but I thought her eyes said more than her words in that moment, too.

  I’m so hurt. He doesn’t appreciate me. I feel stupid.

  I want you.

  “I’m sure he will.”

  I watched her for a moment longer, wishing I could just take her out of school and hold her in my arms for the rest of the afternoon. I’d never longed so much for time — time to be with her, time to hear the dark thoughts that kept her up at night, time to tell her my own.

  Time to love her.

  I didn’t see Charlie at lunch, nor did she stick around long enough after school for me to make sure she’d made it through the day okay. Robin said she’d left as soon as the kids had, and I wondered if she was already curled up in her bed for the evening.

  I smoked three cigarettes on the way home, all the while considering turning my car around and driving into Pittsburgh. I wondered what Cameron’s face would look like if I just showed up, bought a ticket to get into his section, and laid him the fuck out in front of the entire complex.

  Part of Charlie’s sorrow that morning had been from her bird, but part of it had also been from his blatant disregard for her.

  He didn’t deserve her, and it killed me that he still got to have her, anyway.

  I took a steaming hot shower once I was home, settling in on the couch afterward with a beer and mindless television. I thought numbing my brain would help to ease the anger stewing underneath my concern for Charlie, but it only made it worse. So, I abandoned the TV and made my way to my piano, flipping the black wood up to reveal the keys underneath.

  My hands moved over the keys automatically, finding their home in the notes that echoed through the room. I closed my eyes and found a sigh of relief as I began to play an old favorite song, one from my youth. Sometimes it made me think of my mom, of her sneaking in when I wasn’t paying attention and listening to me practice in our old house. She’d bring me food occasionally, but mostly she just sat there and listened. Sometimes I’d move her to tears, other times she’d get up and dance.

  I missed her.

  Each song took me further from my aggression, my hands bringing music to life in a slow, adagio tempo. I started with playing songs I knew, and eventually drifted into playing music I’d only heard in my mind before that evening. Sometimes I would stop to write it all down, to capture it and create — but other times, like tonight, I just played. I just existed within the keys, within the notes, within the music.

  It was almost eight when I took my first break from playing, stopping only to throw a frozen dinner in the microwave. But before I could open the packaging, there was a knock at my door.

  Through the window at the top, I saw Charlie bundled in a coat with a snow cap pulled over her ears.

  My heart picked up speed as I crossed my living room, staring at the little ball of yarn on top of her hat. I opened the door slowly, watching her through the screen door still between us.

  She held a takeout bag from the taco place down the street in one hand, and a small bird cage with a yellow Budgie inside it in the other. It sat perched on the little swing inside, chirping softly, and I could hear the heartbreak in its song.

  Jane.

  My eyes swept over Charlie, taking in her messy hair, her tired, puffy eyes, her chapped lips. I almost forgot I’d invited her, almost asked her what she was doing here. My stomach flipped at the realization that she was on my front porch, that she had come to me to make her feel better. And in that soft light from my front porch, she looked just like the sixteen-year-old girl I’d left behind on a cold night just like this one fourteen years ago.

  She looked like my Charlie.

  “I brought Jane.” She shrugged, her shoulders falling heavily back into place in the saddest sign of defeat.

  I wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.

  But I just laughed instead, pushing the screen door open to take the cage from her hand.

  “A tadpole and a bird, just what I ordered. Come on, let’s get you both warm.”

  It was just a normal Monday. Until it wasn’t.

  ***

  Charlie

  I knew the entire drive over to Reese’s house that it was a bad idea to go.

  Part of me knew it before I’d even started getting dressed, before I’d moved Jane to her travel cage, before I put the car in drive. When he’d asked me to come over earlier that morning, it was the absolute last thing I wanted. But then I got home, and just like Reese had said, Cameron wasn’t there. He worked all day and went immediately to the Penguins game after.

  I thought maybe he would come home. Maybe just this once, for one night, he’d sell his tickets and come home. He’d been the one to find Edward that morning, after all. I knew they weren’t his birds, but was he not hurting?

  If anything, did he not realize how much I was?

  Between him forgetting our anniversary and Edward passing away, I was a complete mess. I hadn’t been able to keep myself under control all day at school, which affected my kids’ moods, too. My eyes were puffy and red from the constant crying, and all I wanted was a little relief from the pain.

  So, even though I knew it was a bad idea, I’d gotten in the car and driven to Reese’s house, anyway. And now I was here, and Reese was placing Jane’s cage on top of his coffee table while I peeled off my coat, hat, and scarf.

  “I’m sorry I just showed up,” I said, looking around for somewhere to put my coat. Reese crossed the room to take it from me, hanging it over the back of his sofa. “I should have called.”

  “You didn’t need to call. I invited you, remember?”

  “Yes, but I never said I was coming.” I eyed his pajama pants, simple navy sweats that hung low on his hips.

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  That had been the first thing I’d noticed when he opened the door.

  His chest and stomach were so familiar to me, even now with the new patches of hair below his belly button and in the center of his pecs. I’d seen Reese shirtless so many times growing up, back when it was just normal for a teenage boy to be without a shirt in the summer or in the comfort of his own home where my best friend lived.

  He had a moon-shaped scar underneath the right side of his ribcage from a bottle rocket fight he and my brother got into when they were sixteen.

  I’d always loved that scar.

  “You didn’t have to,” Reese said, running a hand through his long, disheveled hair. He watched me for a moment like he couldn’t believe I was in his house, like he had no id
ea what to do next. “I was drinking beer earlier, but I can open up one of those bottles of wine I told you about? If you want.”

  “Wine would be nice.”

  I followed Reese into his kitchen, taking in his home as we walked through it. It was a modest bachelor pad, a few unpacked boxes still lining the back wall of his living room and absolutely nothing hanging on the walls. His furniture was neutral, simple and cohesive, and his kitchen housed only the necessities from what I could see. He had a coffee pot that I assumed was the most-used appliance he owned, and there was a chair and an empty box flipped upside down near his sliding glass door.

  Reese followed my eyes to that spot as he pulled a bottle of red wine from a rack on his counter. I wondered who’d bought that wine rack for him, because I knew he wouldn’t have bought it himself.

  “Isn’t my little smoking corner so sophisticated?” he asked, corking the bottle. “Sure as hell beats freezing my balls off on the back porch.”

  “You know, the easier solution would be to stop smoking,” I challenged, setting the bag of tacos I’d brought on the kitchen island. He handed me a fresh glass of wine, and I had a feeling none of those tacos were going to be eaten.

  It was a liquid dinner kind of night.

  “Nah. Sounds healthy and smart. Not my style.” Once he had a glass filled for himself, he lifted it in the air toward me. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.”

  We both took a sip, and I looked around his kitchen as he watched me, both of us silent.

  I waited for him to ask me about Cameron, but I really hoped he wouldn’t. I’d come to his place to get away from my problems for a while, not to talk about them.

  Relief washed over me when he walked back into the living room to Jane’s cage, bending at the waist to get a better look at her.

  “Should we pour a glass of wine for her, too?” he teased, and I smiled, sidling up beside him with my wine in hand.

  “Honestly, it couldn’t hurt. Poor girl hasn’t been herself all day.”

  “Can you blame her?” he asked. “You and I both know what that kind of loss does to you. She probably won’t ever be the same.”