Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (15 page)

My heart beats louder and louder, thumping wildly. I should be yelling and pushing her away but I’m stuck in this place. Stuck not wanting to speak the truth. Not wanting to accept it myself. I’ve pushed it away and pushed it away, pretending this black mark in my past didn’t exist. But it’s been tormenting me, telling me that somehow it was all my fault. When you hear enough that you’re guilty, sometimes you start to believe it. For some reason it was easier to tell Chad, almost a stranger, and one I don’t care for. With Carly? It’s completely different.
 

“Let’s just say you’re better off without me,” I say.
 

“And why is that your decision to make? Shouldn’t that be mine?” A breeze whispers between us, the gap widening. “You know me. You know I confuse sex with love. You know I latch onto people that confirm my self doubts, to protect myself. That way when it falls apart, I’m back in a safe place. Alone.”
 

I don’t want to say what I’m about to say, but I have to. Maybe she’ll leave without me having to tell her the truth. “I’m not who you think. I’m another one of those guys who will end up confirming your self doubt. You need to look for someone else.”

She grips my arms and crushes her mouth against mine. Our mouths open and the pain, the hurt, the love courses between us. She yanks away, leaving us both breathless, hungry for more.

“I can’t walk away from you, Noah.”
 

She latches on to me again, but this time, I jerk away. “No!” I shout, breaking. “I’m not good for you, dammit. I’m not good for any girl.” What I really want to say is that I’m scared shitless to trust again.

“That’s my choice!” she yells back. “Not yours. Now who’s being the coward? If I can face my shit, then you can face yours.”
 

“Fine. You want a glance at the shit? At why you’ll go running as fast as you can?”

“Yes,” she whispers. She tries to hold my hand but I pull away. “I won’t run.”
 

I stare at her, the tension rock hard in my shoulders, the energy coursing through, needing release. “You want to know why I dropped out of life? Why I walked away from a scholarship, from my dreams, from a life?”

She nods.

Let’s be secret friends. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.

“Everyone believes I raped a girl in high school, okay? Now run away.”

I can’t stand to look at the dismay or disgust on her face, so I turn and run. I sprint along the shifting sand, my insides churning, the thoughts in my head screaming. I run until I stumble and fall. The gritty sand feels good against my skin, rough and scratchy. On my back, I stare up at the late afternoon skies, lost.

My breathing slows and I feel crushed and relieved at the same time. Crushed that I can’t have the one thing I want, and relieved that I don’t have to face it.

Then I feel a brush against my arm. “Noah?” she asks, breathless from running. Her voice trembles. “I don’t believe it. You are everything decent and honest and that would go against every moral code ingrained into you since you were little.”

I laugh, the sound hard and brittle. “That’s because you’ve never seen me drunk. Alcohol makes us do things we wouldn’t normal do. Or that’s what I’ve been told.”

“I still don’t believe it.”

I sit up and stare out at the white caps, glinting with the sun. “Well then maybe you don’t know the truth. I had a secret friendship, one that grew into more. I went back to her place, we got drunk, and then I supposedly forced her into sex. Her father walked in after the fact. That’s her story.”

“What’s your story?” she asks softly.

Something inside breaks farther. “I barely remember but I’m pretty sure we didn’t even have sex.”
 

“I believe you and so does Chad.” She hesitates as if scared to even bring him into this. “He convinced me to go after you, to learn the whole story. And then he gave me his dad’s business card. That maybe you got fucked over. Did it ever go to court?”

“No. Her father visited us, laid down his lies and demanded I receive counseling and complete community service. Except the counselor thought I was guilty before I stepped into the office. It was more of a punishment. He made sure my teachers, my coaches, my classmates knew.”

“Fuck.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up.

“What? Don’t you see? You should be running away, fast.”

She places both her hands on my face. “I’m not going to ask anything of you. But I don’t believe you would ever do what they’ve accused you of. When girls are in fear of their father, they’ll do or say anything. They’ll lie. Trust me. I know this. I’ve lived this.” She gently kisses me then pulls away. “Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to track down this girl. She’s older now. She’s living on her own. And you’re going to talk to her. End this chapter of your life.”

He stops. “Why? Why are you doing this for me?”
 

“Because you need to be set free. And you’re the best damn kisser I’ve ever kissed. You think I’m going to let that go?”

I follow her back to the boardwalk. Scared shitless. Scared to hope.

I stand at Dalia’s door, my fist in a ball, up and poised ready to knock at my past. The apartment building she lives in is gorgeous and she must be doing well for herself. Does she ever think about me? About what happened? Does she have any regrets?

The door opens. My past stands in front of me. She’s just as beautiful as ever with her large luminous eyes staring at me, but something’s different. She looks weary, like time has been hard. The innocence of high school has given way to the responsibility of being an adult.

“Noah.” Her voice sounds breathy. “Come in.”

“Hi, Dalia. It’s been a long time.” I laugh nervously, a jumble of emotions fighting within. Some of the rage and humiliation hovers and goads me on to speak my piece, but a bigger part of me is tired of that and just wants to let go. Completely and forever.

 
I follow her down a narrow hallway to a door at the end. She welcomes me inside. She has a tea set out on a small kitchen table. The kitchen opens into a small living room with a hallway stretching down to a bedroom. The room and the decorations tell me a lot about her, a lot that makes sense with what happened. I’d expect a girl’s home to be full of knickknacks and framed pictures of friends and family, but the room is spic and span clean. Long white curtains hit the floor. Every figurine and fern perfectly placed and dusted. Nothing out of place.

She moves gracefully across the kitchen and carries over a plate of cookies. “How have you been?”
 

I nod. “Okay.” I spread my arm to encompass her apartment. “You seem to have done well. Hope you’re happy.” I try not to let the bitterness creep into my words.

“Thanks.” She looks down at the hands she holds in her lap.
 

An awkward silence engulfs the room.
 

“Would you like some tea?” Shakily, she pours both of us a cup. Then she sits back down. “I made the cookies myself.”
 

“Thanks.” I wrap my fingers around the cup.
 

Her breath hitches. “I suppose you want to talk.” She gives a little sob and attempts to take a sip of tea but her hand is shaking too much.
 

My voice is on the edge of cracking. “The truth would be good.”
 

She takes a cookie and nibbles the edge. In a way I feel bad. I’ve gone through the tough part. I’ve remembered, I’ve dealt with it and I’m on the road to healing. It’s clear she still has to face her demons.
 

“Dalia—”

“No!” she bursts. “Not another word.”
 

Carly

Dalia lives on her own three hours away, and she was willing to meet with Noah. We drove practically the whole way in silence. Noah fiddled with radio stations and spent the time staring out the window, tense.

I spent the ride hoping, praying, that what Noah and I knew to be the truth, she’d admit to. That Dalia lied to look better to a father who disapproved of her behavior. He put the words in her mouth, the thoughts in her head, and she never really had a choice. She went along, numb on the inside. I should know. That’s been my life.

I wait in the car, nervous, scared, my thoughts traveling in every direction possible. All the different things Noah and Dalia could be talking about inside. It took a little digging but back at my apartment we tracked down Dalia Donahue. The internet is an amazing creature. Then we called and confirmed.
 

I stare at the large door to Dalia’s apartment building. It’s been twenty minutes. Any second he’s going to walk out the door, a smile on his face, the truth shining for all to see.

My life with him weighs in the balance. This day, what’s happening inside, determines my future with Noah. Because I know if Dalia still holds to her lies, he’ll never allow himself to love, to care, to trust again.

And I’ll be back on my own. Devastated.

I let my head fall to the steering wheel. I close my eyes, trying not to fall into fantasies of what I hope is my future.
 

A door closes. I jerk my head up. Noah’s at the front step, he’s walking toward me but I can’t tell what happened. His face is stone, unmoving, expressionless. My heart sinks.

He climbs in. “Let’s go.”

I pull away, my legs trembling, my mouth dry. I try to ask several times but I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready. From the corner of my eye, I see him sitting and staring straight ahead.
 

What the hell is going on? I want to scream and rage.
 

Then his body starts shaking, slowly at first but then it heaves. “Stop the car!” he gasps out.
 

I pull over and stop. He climbs out of the car, barely in control, and falls into the small patch of grass along the stretch of road before the highway. He drops to his knees, shaking. I climb out and stand by, unsure of what to do.

Then he yells, his anguish pouring out. Every pent up frustration and hurt releasing from him in great waves.
 

“Noah?” I ask. “It’s okay. Whatever happened I don’t care. You can tell me when you’re ready.”
 

He tries to talk, the words stilted. “She…you were right.” Then he drops his head into his hands.

I touch his back, gentle and caring. I play with the ends of his hair that are getting a little long in the back. “What?”

He stands and then pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest. Then he slams his lips against mine and kisses me with a passion that almost scares me. He picks me up and twirls me, his mouth hungry, his hands exploring.

“Noah!” I gasp. “Tell me.”

He puts me down and for the first time, a real smile, a happy one, a free one, spreads across his face. He glows. Right in front of me I see the anger, the heavy burden he’s been carrying break away, falling to pieces.

He’s laughing and crying at the same time. “She admitted everything. That she was the one giving me more alcohol. That, no, we didn’t sleep together, but almost. I passed out on her. But the rage in her dad’s eyes terrified her, and she went along with his story. She apologized. She cried for everything.” He falls silent.

“I’m sorry.” And now the tears build in my eyes. “I’m sorry your life changed so drastically for nothing. That you had to go through all that. I’m sorry.”

He grabs my hand. “Thank you. For everything. If you’re willing to put up with me, I want to date you, I want to love you, I want to show you how worthy you are of love. How special you are. How special you deserve to be treated.”

I laugh, the sob building in my throat. “I accept because that will be the biggest challenge you’ll ever face. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Positive.”

Then he pulls me into a breathtaking kiss that sends tingles shooting through my body. And by the side of the road, our passion, our love, takes root. The honesty pulses between us and I’ve never been more scared or more sure of the future than at this moment.

The next day, there’s one more thing I want to do, to cement our hopes for the future, to wash away the stains from our past. It’s time to start fresh. I stifle the urge to giggle with happiness.

“No way. This is crazy.” Noah pulls away and starts walking back to the car. He glances back. “But feel free. I’ll watch, just in case you need rescuing.”

“Come on. We have to! Please?”
 

He glances to the right and left. “What if someone sees us?”
 

I shrug. “Who the hell cares? I mean, seriously. I don’t care what people think of me.” I put the challenge to him. This is something both of us have to work on, making the right decisions for us.

“Well, when you put it that way. We do need to work on certain aspects of our relationship.” His eyes travel hungrily, sweeping down my body. He steps closer.

I squeal and run away. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

His arm wraps around my waist and he crashes into me. We stumble forward, tumbling into the sand, laughing. We lay side by side, catching our breath.

“Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about.” His fingers walk up my front to the first button on my shirt. Slowly, he unbuttons it, and moves on top of me. His kisses follow his fingers, trailing a sweet path down my front. His fingers rest on the top button of my jeans and he kisses the soft skin on my stomach. “You sure about this? You can say no and stop at any point. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can wait.” A smile reaches his eyes.

I smile back, unable to stop it from spreading. “I think I’m ready to take the plunge. I’ve been ready for a while. But only with you.” It’s my turn to undress him. I find the bottom of his T-shirt and slip my hands under. They spread across his taut stomach and chest.

“You seem to find entirely too much pleasure in this ordeal.”

I grin and kiss the broad expanse of his chest and up his neck until his shirt is off and I find his mouth. “Damn right. Now let’s get right to it.”

“What? No slowly easing into it?”

I stand and grab his hand to pull him up. “I like it fast. Sometimes it’s better that way.”