Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (12 page)

“Chad, you’re drunk. Just go home and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
 

He snorts and looks over me with disgust. He’s right. I wanted to feel loved and giving him access to my body felt like love. But tonight made me realize I was completely wrong. I glance to Noah, who still isn’t moving. He’s in a daze.

Chad attempts to break the rest of the window. I can smell his booze breath from here. “Baby, you didn’t even offer me one last roll in the sheets before breaking it off? Just one last time?” He swears as he cuts his hand. “I feel cheated.”

I hold back a sob. “Chad, please. Don’t do this.”
 

He stops trying to crash through the window but his verbal assault doesn’t stop. Words that cripple and hurt. “Did you do for him like you do for me? Did you spread your legs and groan? Was he able to work magic with his fingers like me? Sending you to places that you’ll never go again?”

The scream builds inside me and I let it out. “You asshole.” I jump up, and not caring, I get dressed with jerky motions. “I faked it! Every moan and groan and orgasm. I faked. You did nothing for me but I knew that’s what you wanted.”
 

He steps away, his face pale. “You lie.” He changes modes and his rage goes from out of control to measured and forced. “Hate to tell you, babe, but I’m sure this dick over here just wanted some good action too. There are two kinds of girls. The kind you bring home to your parents and plan on marrying. Then there’s your kind.”
 

I close my eyes. No! I scream on the inside. Noah’s not like that. But he’s not helping or defending me at all.
 

Chad spits to the side, making a statement. “No worries. I’m done with you. He can have his turn.” He turns his back and staggers to the road. He’s fumbling with his phone.

I drop to my knees, shuddering, humiliated and wishing to disappear from this house, from this earth. Noah snaps out of it, looks at me, and life flickers in his eyes.
 

Two seconds later, he charges across the room, whips open the door and sprints across the yard. He wraps his arms around Chad and they hit the pavement.

Noah

Carly and Chad are yelling, spitting insults back and forth. I see two lovers, fighting, because I got in the way. I believed Carly when she said her and Chad were over. I was wrong. This doesn’t look over. The past grips onto me, haunting me. It’s going to happen again. It is happening again. I listen to Chad’s hateful words, the pure disgust on his face. He never loved her. He would never look at her like that or treat her like this if he did.
 

The itch for action shoots down my spine and into my legs. Then I’m flying out of the front door, closing the gap until I ram into Chad. We slam against the sidewalk and the breath is knocked out of me.

Once we’re up, Chad places his boot in my stomach and kicks. I fall back but quickly recover. The air crackles with anger and my adrenaline surges. I attack him with my fists and get a couple punches in before Carly pulls at me.

“It’s not worth it! Just let him leave!”

It only takes those few seconds for Chad to recover. His fist lands heavy, one in my gut and then an uppercut to my head. I drop to my knees.

“What a fucking girl. You might as well give up now.”
 

I struggle to my feet and as soon as I’m standing, his boot lands in my stomach. His fist connects with eye. Pain shoots and stabs. He curses and punches me again in the stomach. The air is sucked from my chest and I land on my back.

“Chad!” Carly screams and through a haze I see Chad taunting me.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Chad goads me on. “Let’s see what you got.”

His insults fester inside me. I roll over and this time he allows me to stand. He’s crouching, laughing, a shard of glass in his hand. He waves it around.

“You’re drunk, asshole. Come back tomorrow,” I say between clenched teeth.
 

He scoffs. “A little late for that. You just want another easy lay with the slut here.”

“Enough!” I roar. I charge but instead of ramming into him, I fake as he slashes with the piece of glass. He catches the side of my arm, the pain sears and blood seeps out. But with one swipe of my leg, I take him out at the legs and he drops hard.
 

I kick his stomach several times, falling back on my skills as a star soccer forward. It hasn’t been that long and my body remembers. He gasps and groans, curling into a ball. I yank him to his feet and he keeps slashing but I kick the glass from his hand.
 
With an iron grip on his arms I shove him toward the street.
 

He staggers back, the fight draining as the influence of the alcohol he drank earlier catches up to him. His friend pulls up in a car and opens the door, like this whole thing was planned. Get in and throw some punches and then a quick exit.

He spits out blood. “You can have her. Good luck. You’ll need it.”
 

I sag, breathing in and out. Carly. When I don’t see her outside, I rush back inside, a little wobbly. She’s on the floor, her hands shaking as she tries to clean up the broken window.

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats over and over.

“Carly!”

She keeps mumbling. “Just let me clean up and I’ll leave. I’ll leave you alone. This is all my fault.”

“Carly!” I raise my voice and capture her attention. She looks up at me, her face streaked with make-up. Suddenly the confident, take-no-shit-from-anyone girl transforms and I see the little girl, broken and scarred. Something a Band-aid won’t fix.

I gently pull her away and into the kitchen. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of this.”

I sit her down in the chair, my eye swelling and my head throbbing, then fall into the chair next to her.

She gasps as if looking at me for the first time. “You’re bleeding! Let me take you to the hospital.”

“No!” I speak more sharply than I should.
 

She fumbles for her phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

I shoot up and my chair falls over. The pain in my head skyrockets and I lean on the table. “No cops. No. We’re just going to forget about this.” But it’s too late. I can’t separate this event from the past and the two rush and swirl together. I never should’ve trusted or let my heart feel again. “Just leave.”

“What?” She goes to the sink and runs the water. “Let me at least clean you up!”
 

The past collides and all I can see is Dalia, feel her presence in the room, hear her words.
 
I yell, hoping to chase the demons away, speaking to the ghost filling my heart. “You lied! You came to me, sneaking, under the pretense of our secret friendship. Well, guess what! You wanna know something?”
 

She shuts of the water, standing, shaking, with her back to me.

“Wanna know the truth?” I yell, overcome with the pain that squeezes the life from me, drowning out any reason.

She turns. “What?”
 

“Secrets are for losers. A relationship built on lies doesn’t work.” I slump into the chair. “Please,” I croak, “just leave.”
 

She doesn’t say another word but I feel the breeze as she walks past. I hear the noise as she gathers her things. And then she’s gone.

***

After I left Dalia’s, the whole next day I feel sick. The whole thing looked terrible. It was terrible. It completely erases any pleasant memories from the night, the sound of her voice urgently whispering in my ear. The feel of her hands on me. The scent of her sweat and perfume rolled together. The softness of her skin.

I close my eyes and sigh.
 

That afternoon, Dad walks into my bedroom. His face is pale and stern, his eyebrows lowered. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” I push my homework aside. I’m not getting anything done anyway. “Is everything okay?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “We have visitors.”

Somehow I know this has to do with Dalia. The pit in my stomach becomes all-consuming and I want to puke. “Do I even need to ask?”

Dad shakes his head, disappointment evident. “A very irate father wants to talk…before he calls in the lawyers and presses charges.”

“What?” The word barely gets out. Lawyers? That doesn’t seem possible. I can’t imagine what he can charge me with. A boy and girl, both underage, drinking and fooling around? When is that a crime? Okay, the drinking is illegal, but really? Why would he charge me when she was drinking too?

Dad sighs. “His charges are pretty serious. We might have to get a lawyer. We’ll see what he has to say.” He stands, suddenly his age showing in the slump of his shoulders. “Meet us in the living room. I sent Haley and your mom out to shop.”

“Okay.”

Then he leaves. I rinse down aspirin and then use mouthwash, as if to get rid of the memory. I glance down at my sweats and change into jeans, then head downstairs, dread piling up in my chest.

In the living room, Mr. Donahue sits straight in an armchair. Immediately, I find Dalia. She sits on the couch, near her dad. My heart sinks. She won’t look at me but focuses on her fingers twisted in her lap. Her white dress and sweater speak of nothing but innocence.

I don’t get a good feeling.

Mr. Donahue clears his throat and looks at my dad as if I’m not there. “We’d like to take care of this unpleasant situation out of court and I assume that’s what your family would want to.”

My dad nods. “Please explain the nature of your visit.”

A slight smirk crosses Mr. Donahue’s face. “Do you know where your son was last night and what time he got in?”

Dad glances at me and looks uncertain. “He was out with friends and I assume came in before his curfew. We trust our son.”

The fangs come out. “Maybe you should get to know your son a little bit better.” Mr. Donahue stands and paces, taking on the persona of a courtroom lawyer. “Let me set the scene for you. I came home from an evening out with my wife to find your son and my daughter in our finished basement. This was rather late and I assume past any reasonable curfew.”
 

“Okay. I’ll be sure to ask Noah about it.”

He smirks again, this time a little more obvious. “They were naked and the place reeked of booze.” He points at me and his voice turns cold. “Using the alcohol in my liquor cabinet, your son proceeded to con my daughter into drinking too much.” He let that piece of information settle in the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I did not con Dalia into anything! She was the one pouring drinks down our throats. I don’t dare wipe the sweat forming on my forehead. It will make me look guilty.

His voice changes from stern to heartbroken and he places his hand on Dalia’s shoulder. She hunches over, not looking up. “We barely got the truth out of her. I hate to bring you this news but this kind of thing needs to be made an example of. Young boys need to learn their lessons. Sometimes the hard way.”

“I’m still not seeing the entire picture.”
 

“Your son, Mr. Sparks, against the will of my daughter, forced her into sexual relations.”

“That is not what happened!” I burst to my feet. “Tell him, Dalia.”

If my dad was nervous this news transformed his feelings into fury. “Mr. Donahue, if there was alcohol involved I doubt my son was the only one drinking. I don’t care for your accusations. Noah is a stand up guy and would not take advantage of a girl. Maybe it’s time for you to leave.”

Mr. Donahue turns his piercing eyes onto me. I shrivel inside. “She broke down and admitted the truth. We could take it to court. And I’ll tell you, in this situation, the boys don’t win.”

Dad looks at me. “Noah?”
 

“Nothing happened.” I can only look at Dalia, begging and pleading that she’ll tell the truth. That there was no forcing. That there wasn’t any sex!
 

“I think your son is lying.”

Dad turns away from me.
 

“If you’ll cover all of Dalia’s counseling and therapy to help her on the road to healing, I’ll think about not pressing charges. Date rape is a serious charge and could ruin your son’s future. I like to think I’m a man of second chances but I also need to know this won’t happen again. So I also ask that your son commit to ten therapy sessions and one hundred hours of community service to be finished before graduation at a local shelter with his hours reported to me.”

My legs shake and the heat of humiliation and anger and the lies consume me.
 

“We’ll talk and get back to you, Mr. Donahue.”

They walk to the door and shake hands. I try to find Dalia’s eyes but she looks and acts the part of the victim. This whole situation, the secret friendship has turned into a nightmare.

Chapter 9

Carly

Somehow I get through the weekend. I gaze at my homework and study for tests but the information doesn’t stick, the words blur. My mind wanders back to my weekend with Noah. Heaven and hell at the same time. I find a nice guy, one I connect with and our personalities mesh, and it turns into a disaster.

It’s my fault for trying to hide my budding friendship with Noah from Chad. I was scared Chad would see us together and freak out, which he did anyway. I was scared to admit my growing feelings for Noah. I was scared to break up with Chad, even though I tried at The Salty Dog, but he didn’t take me seriously.

I slip on black yoga pants and a solid-colored T-shirt. Nothing fancy today. I feel like I’m in mourning, the fog of grief surrounding me, affecting everything I see and do. I lost two relationships in one weekend. Two! I pause at the door of my building and breathe in the memories of my only night with Noah. He was such a gentleman. That’s what sticks with me, his kindness and gentleness and the respect he had for me.

After a brief moment, I wipe the tears before they can even start. I’ve been through worse. I can handle this, but as I stride through The Watering Hole with fake confidence, I realize that this situation is worse than dealing with my dad or Chad and I fighting when he’s drunk and mad. Those relationships hurt but I didn’t give myself fully to them. I kept within my shell and only gave a small part of me.