The Secret He Keeps Read online

  “Rachel? What’s up? Please tell me you changed your mind and are planning to go out with hubba-hubba electric guy.”

  “Nah, I think we’re both a little green for the dating scene right now. But it’s not out of the question.” Rachel bit her lip. “I have another dilemma. Can you talk, or are you busy?”

  “Busy avoiding my deadline. I have to report on the new bakery downtown. The problem is, I went there and it sucked. I mean, really wasn’t good. Like I had to drown out the aftertaste with a Frappuccino from Starbucks, not good. And I don’t even like Starbucks’ Frappuccinos. But the owner knows the editor and he promised I’d do the job it took to get her lines out of the building. The only line she’d have, if people went there, would be picket lines, demanding their three dollars back or a better cupcake.”

  Rachel had known Collette since fifth grade, in elementary school. Once a frumpy little girl with unruly curls who sat by herself at lunch and got teased on the playground, she was now a pretty young lady who found a hair straightener and wrote for the hometown Journal. She never moved away, like Rachel did, and she never found Mr. Right. But the speed dating was getting her closer.

  “I’m sure you’ll do a spin on it and make everyone happy.”

  “So I’m sure you didn’t call to hear about my life. What’s going on?”

  “Okay, so I’ve been invited to go somewhere for Thanksgiving.”

  Before she got out the important part, Collette interrupted. “And this is something you need advice on, or are you just making an announcement? It’s not like you cook anymore, Rach. You do still sit at home for the most part and do little more than catch up on movies? How’s that callus on your ass? Has Gus gained like ten pounds from sitting like a sloth, not getting his daily walks?”

  “I take Gus out, now, thank you very much.” Collette knew her so well. And she’d seen the ugly side of Rachel’s grieving. Somehow, though, they were still friends. “I’m starting to go to the grocery store more, thank you very much. Chips and dip are starting to scold my tongue, and I think my taste buds are terminally scarred from that Little Debbie. Hence, the thought about Thanksgiving dinner at someone else’s house.”

  “So Little Debbie’s got you down? I go on blind dates, endure speed dating, and have my profile on three different sites. Of which, may I add, I lie about, and I still don’t have anyone rubbing my feet at night and telling me to maybe go back and try a doughnut, it might taste better? We all have our issues, Rach. Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t sound like one to me.”

  “Well, it’s sort of involving going with Dane.”

  “Dane, your partner Dane? What, is he gross now? Does he have a missing front tooth and scratch his balls while smiling at you? Rachel, why is this something you need to call about? Not that I don’t enjoy your monthly rants, but seriously? Is there something more to the picture? Does he want to take you to a nearby cult to dine? What’s the catch? You’ve known the guy for decades.”

  Rachel paced and bit her lower lip. If only he was missing a tooth and ugly as sin. “Because I had dinner the other night with him and I sort of, kind of, felt something. And I feel like a total schmuck for it. Because I feel like I’m cheating on Scott for even mentioning it to you. To even have felt weird at his house. Because I know that it’s his best friend. And I don’t deserve to ever be happy. Especially having thoughts of his best friend. Did I mention he is Scott’s best friend?”

  “Slow down, sister. Let me get a word in here. Rachel, you survived the accident. But you’ve done nothing to prove it. Gosh, when I came to visit you this last summer, it was like a damned funeral in your house. No offense, but I was kind of happy to leave.”

  “No offense taken.” Rachel’s brow raised in surprise. Was it that bad? She didn’t recall feeling as thought her friend was miserable. Did she have a problem with daytime crime shows, back-to-back People’s Court, frozen meals, or what?

  “Rachel, do you think he feels something too?”

  She knew the answer quicker than she answered. “Yes. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me before I left. I dodged it, of course.”

  “Just let whatever happens happen. Go to dinner with the dude. It’s not like you’re cheating. As you think you are.”

  “I’m scared.” Rachel had sat on the sofa and grabbed a pillow to hug. Her dog had finally settled from all the pacing and was lying at her feet. “I don’t have my shit together yet. I could be thinking things that aren’t really there. I could screw up his friendship. I could give him the green light and then want to take it back when I feel like a dog with worms for betraying my husband. I could lose him as a partner in the firm. I’m just not that stable to go somewhere like this.”

  “Then get your shit together. It’s not a marriage proposal, Rach. It’s freaking Thanksgiving turkey. Take a chill pill. Have you started back to work?”

  “No, but I’ve been thinking about it.”

  A heavy sigh came across the line. “All right, here’s the plan. Get on a routine. Get out of your pajamas, start seeing patients, and get some normal back in your life. You have to repair you first. After that, figure out what you’re feeling. It could be just a case of him being familiar to you. It’s easy to be around someone who’s known you almost all your life. It takes very little effort. And if it’s meant to be, you’ll know it.”

  “I needed to hear this. Thanks, Collette. And try the bakery one more time. There has to be something good they make.”

  “If I don’t die of food poisoning first. Take care of yourself.”

  “You, too.”

  Rachel felt a world better. Maybe it was like she described. Maybe she was just attracted to their history—of sharing Scott all those years. She still had John as an option. If someone lucky enough hadn’t snatched him up yet.

  Rachel’s mother had begged her to come home for Thanksgiving. She declined gently each time, swearing she had plans. Now she wasn’t lying. She would go with Dane and everything would be as innocent as pie. Her mind was so overactive; when he leaned in to her the other night, he was probably just losing balance. Dane trying to kiss her? She laughed at the thought. She was definitely not someone he would ever cross a room to ask out on a date.

  He was like a big brother to her. She could see the first day that she met him as though it were yesterday.

  Dr. Wallace stood in front of the group of young residents. He was a large man. There was no way his doctor’s coat could ever be pulled shut. Too much there to cover. His face was stern. It had to be. He was in charge of rookies who were playing doctor to sick people. He was responsible for each of them.

  “Now when I call your name, I’ll be pairing it with someone else. This person is your partner, your go-to reference, and your cell mate if anything goes wrong.”

  She looked around. There was a quiet-looking girl in the corner. She wore glasses and her name tag was attached with a medic’s symbol clip. Nerd. She’d be the one Rachel wanted to be partners with.

  “Rachel Boyd, you’re with Dane Stone.”

  She quickly looked around, scanning for someone who was scanning, too. Oh my gosh. Not him. Not the guy with the God’s gift to women look. No doubt standing among the two other blondes in the group. He walked over to her.

  “So, you’re Rachel Boyd.” As if he heard gossip about her.

  “And you’re Dane Stone.” Should she shake his hand or let it be understood she had his number? Skirt chaser. She saw it in the dimple he flashed her when he said her name real slow.

  “Guilty.” He took her hand, despite her indecision to offer hers.

  “Well, it looks like we’re stuck together. Unless you want to trade with Kirsten.” He pointed to the little blonde chippy smiling back at him.

  “I’m pretty sure Dr. Wallace would not be receptive of trades. It’s only for nine months. If I don’t kill you before then, you might make it to one day have your own round of patients.”

  Dane had come a long way since then. He had earned
his practice through long hours and dedication. He had laid off dating half the women in town and in the city, too. She had seen the transformation with her own eyes.

  She picked up her phone to call and tell him she was going.

  “Dane,” she said when he picked up the phone.

  “Rachel?”

  “Yeah, do you still have room in your car for Troy and April’s Thanksgiving?”

  “I do. I’m glad you want to go. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll get there in time for dinner.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Guilty Pleasure

  Tension and anxiety had spun circles in the pit of his stomach. Dane only ate a piece of toast for breakfast, whereas usually he had oatmeal and two hard-boiled eggs. He did another look around his room, feeling pretty sure he was forgetting something. This was a long time coming. Rachel was finally coming around. He knew she would. He had his doubts at first. She all but refused to see him for months after the accident. Nothing he could say would allow him access to her private world. When he saw her for the first time at the grocery store, she smiled shyly and waved. He felt too weird to approach her. She had already sped off in the other direction.

  He took deep breaths before getting out of the car when he arrived at her house. It was amazing how a place you always came to for football games and backyard barbecues was now odd to go and knock on the door. He missed his buddy, Scott. He missed the guy before his career had changed him. The guy who talked him into joining the community softball team to score a date. Because women liked men in uniforms, especially softball ones.

  He remembered it was after their first game, they went to Jake’s, the corner bar on Main Street. It was mainly a sports bar, but they served good food, too. Arty used to be a chef somewhere in New York City. The smog and rude people sent him to Connecticut.

  “Dude, look at the door. Look who just came in. She’s gorgeous.”

  Dane looked past the other rowdy guys in their group. It was Rachel. She was with an older woman. They had the same facial features, and they were walking over to one of the tables to sit down.

  Dane slipped in a cheese fry, moving it to the side of his mouth while he talked. “That’s my partner at the hospital. She’s a firecracker. Thinks she knows more than I do. I’m hoping one day she gets sick and I can take over the rounds myself.”

  Scott turned his head from her to his friend, Dane. “You work with her?” He acted as if it were more of a privilege than a curse.

  “Yes. But she’s not your type. Completely bossy, opinionated, and sassy. Trust me, man. Stay away from that one.” He licked some ranch dressing off his hand instead of using a napkin.

  “Introduce me.” Scott stood up from the stool, pulling at Dane’s arm. “Come on, man.”

  Dane shook his head with regret, pulling another fry from the mound of bacon-stacked cheese. Seeing his friend was serious, he stood to take him over to her table. “All right, but after you suffer the sting of rejection, don’t come crying to me. I warned you.”

  Dane walked to Rachel’s table, his head hung and his belly crying for another swig of his beer left back at the high table, next to his appetizer. His slouching posture signified he was noticeably coerced from the person standing to his right. Who happened to be wearing a big, goofy smile. “Rachel.”

  She broke from conversation with her mom. “Yes? Hello, Dane. Wow, I didn’t know you were on the Little League team.”

  “It’s men’s softball, Rachel.” He made a snarky smile. This girl knew how to really get his goat. “This is my friend, Scott. He wanted to come meet you.”

  He got ribbed for that comment. Scott held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  And just like that, Rachel went from snide to little princess. Her face lit with a smile. There were actually twinkles in her eyes as she took hold of Scott’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  That was the biggest mistake of Dane’s life. Not being able to spot the softer part of Rachel before he sold her off to his buddy. Or maybe not being able to draw out her soft spot. Who knew?

  She stood in front of him now, holding a large floral bag. Her hair had big curls in it and her face illuminated happiness. This was the face of the girl in his dreams.

  ***

  “I feel so bad. Maybe I shouldn’t go.” She clutched her bag so tight, little needles stuck her fingers.

  “What? Of course you should. Now give me your bag and let’s get in the car.” He tried to pull the bag from her grip.

  “No, I feel like I’m going to have a good time.”

  “Perish the thought.” He smiled. A little bit of fun was being poked at her expense.

  “No, Dane, you don’t understand. I feel like I’m leaving Scott behind and if I have a good time, it’ll be like I’m glad he’s not there.”

  “Nonsense, Rachel.” He pried the bag from her. “Okay, let’s tell ourselves a lie. Let’s say that Scott is away on business and I’m taking you to get your mind off being alone for the holiday.”

  “Oh sure. Let’s foster my chronic denial. Dane, never go into psychiatry, please.”

  She pulled the door shut and followed him out to the car. She looked across the street to Debbie’s house. She had dropped Gus off an hour earlier. The kids were frantic with excitement that a dog was having a sleepover. Caitlin looked rosier than ever. She was making a full recovery from her bout with asthma.

  The drive to Troy and April’s was a nice diversion for Rachel’s recent bout with loneliness. There was no traffic on the oddball roads to Careytown. Their friends moved there a couple of years ago when Troy’s grandfather died and left him a chalet in the woods. April found work in the tiny town as a caterer. Her busy time was autumn, when the bed-and-breakfasts were full of tourists. None of the caretakers knew much about cooking, so they kept April on retainer for their dinners.

  “I’m looking forward to dinner. I didn’t have anything but a piece of toast at six this morning.”

  “You woke up at six? What for?”

  He shook his head, protruding his lower lip like a child. “No reason. Just didn’t get good sleep last night.”

  “I can’t seem to get used to this.” She reached across and rubbed the hair on his cheek. Its softness caught her off guard. So did the fact that she just reached out and touched him. A slow warmth moved from her fingertips to her heart. “What made you grow a beard?”

  “Does it look bad?” He looked at himself in the rearview mirror.

  “No, it’s just so different.”

  “Let me know if you hate it. I can shave it off.”

  “Dane, why would you do that? I’m no one to tell you to shave it off. Anyway, it makes you look rugged. It looks good.” She touched the wood trim on his dashboard, trying to get another textile image in her brain. She hoped her anxiety would soon wane. And that they’d have a vat of wine with her name on it when they got there. Wine was in good form, right? Drinking out of paper bags is what made you one with a problem.

  One and a half hours of easy stretch highway and good music before they were there. Troy met them at the door with a beer in his hand. Rachel saw that he still hadn’t found anyone good to cut his hair. It was too long for her taste, as it strayed over his ears and flipped up in the back. With small eyes to match his small nose and mouth, he was the friendliest guy she knew. Most of her friends had come from Scott.

  He ushered them inside. Dane set down their bags by the door. He followed Troy to the loud television and Shawn, the other guest for the night. He was the size of Troy. A tiny guy, but he had a bush of dark hair on his head. You could still see his ears, though. He waved at Rachel as she walked toward the kitchen.

  “They’re all in there, Rach. Like hens in the coop. Tell April we’re going to start eating furniture legs soon, if dinner isn’t ready by three.”

  She took a deep breath before she walked over and pushed on the wooden door. It swung both ways, like a saloon door.

  “Oh my gosh
! Rachel, it’s so good to see you, honey.” April put down the turkey baster and hugged her with one arm. “I was so happy when Dane called and told us you were coming.”

  “Thanks, April.” She looked over at Edie. Her small frame matched her husband, Shawn, perfectly. But her hair was blonde. In a short bob. Shorter than Troy’s. Maybe she could hook him up with her hairstylist. “Hey, Edie, it’s nice to see you, too.”

  Edie wasn’t much for hugging. She smiled and pulled a glass from the overhead holder. She filled it up with wine for Rachel. “Good to see you, honey. How have ya been?”

  Rachel took the glass and chugged on it before she answered. “Good. You know.” She hoped they did, because she didn’t know how to elaborate. Being the only widow of the group came with its own specimen-in-the-jar syndrome. Everyone was using you as a case study. Does she still like turkey? Does she still wear jeans? Is she going to cry when we mention anything about the past? That sort of thing.

  “Of course we know.” She gave April a look.

  Oh Lord, this was going to be a long evening.

  “Is there anything I can do, April? Mash potatoes, cut the cranberry roll?”

  April had her hippie long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Mainly to keep it from getting in the way. It was probably what first attracted Troy to her. She had a medium frame, somewhat on the small size, which surprised Rachel, seeing that she cooked so much and must have had to taste everything that came out of her kitchen.

  “Now Rachel, you know I use fresh cranberries.” She hit her on the arm before she opened the oven door to shove back in the turkey. “I have it under control. Pull up a chair. Tell us what you’ve been up to.”

  Knowing that would take under thirty seconds, Rachel hedged. “I’ve actually got to use the restroom. It was a long drive.”

  “Sure. Make yourself at home.” April filled a pot as Rachel slipped out of the room.

  Dane watched as she walked past him to go to the bathroom. If only he could read her thoughts, he’d go out back and catch her from escaping through the bathroom window.