Page 12 of Secondhand Secrets

Though Laila had always had a certain classic appeal that Ally didn’t—these days, now that Whitney’s dad wasn’t around—Laila toiled double-time, working odd hours at the nearest twenty-four-hour grocery store while studying sonography, just to fill the financial gaps.

Ally could barely remember when her sister didn’t look overworked.

Meanwhile, the last time anyone in Harlow saw Chip, he’d been a skinny fourteen-year-old, with limbs too long for the rest of his body, his nose often buried in a book. By some freak of nature, he’d grown into his height, and his narrow features filled out to a striking “boy next door” sort of appeal.

And as if to mirror Ally’s thoughts on his changes, Laila chimed in with, “What about you? Married? Kids?”

“Too much to do first.” Chip was quick to laugh and shake his head. “Marriage and kids are a long way off.”

Despite Ally’s recent vow to also stop caring about settling down, his air of finality brought a pang to her chest… Not that she had all that much time to dwell on her feelings.

“Chip, buddy!” Ally’s father rounded the kitchen counter, likely fresh from tinkering with something in his tucked-away den. “Vel tracked you down after all.”

“Surprise.” Chip accepted her dad’s strong handshake. “I didn’t plan on an entire Egan reunion, that’s for sure.”

“Well, you should’ve.” Her mom squeezed in and pushed Chip toward the kitchen. “We’ve been waiting for ten years to have you back at our table. If only your sister were here, too.”

“We don’t have enough seats.” Instantly regretting the quip and what it revealed about her feelings on Sarah, Ally bit down on her lower lip and promised to shut up for a while.

Chip turned and stared at her, his narrow-eyed skepticism stirring a nervous energy within her, prompting her focus on pulling out a chair and ignoring him altogether.

Did he know about her problems with his sister? And why did the mere awareness of his gaze make her tummy lurch, flip, and flutter?

“Ally?” The abrupt sound of her name dragged her focus to her mother. “Not there, you sit over here. Next to Chip.”

Ally frowned down at the chair beneath her hands, her fingers curled around the top of the brown wood frame. “But I always sit next to Laila.”

“Not tonight.” Despite being the shortest person in the room, her mom pressed down on Chip’s shoulders and strong-armed him into a seat before eyeballing Ally and stabbing a finger at the chair next to him. “Sit. You and Laila can chin-wag together any other night.”

Ally groaned and shuffled toward her designated seat, once again apologizing under her breath to Chip. “Mom likes to come on strong.”

She sat next to him and tried to escape the electricity seeming to ping within the small space between them. Did he feel it too? Or did that energy exist only in her mind?

Not the first time I’ve imagined a connection.

Given this was Chip, her “imagining” came with a strong edge of terror. Especially since his trace of body heat on her arm made her skin tingle, leaving her with regrets over removing her cardigan.

“It’s okay.” His low whisper—light but somehow molten—had her peering at his hazel stare, fluttering about her face. “I remember.”

She snatched her focus away and dug her elbows into the table, the reluctant tension in her belly giving way to her shoulder’s slight tremble. Though she tried to contain her burgeoning snicker, Chip did no such thing, his chuckle loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh, see, now look at you two.” Her mom lowered a bowl of salad to the table, her smile practically glowing.

Unchecked laughter cracked past Ally’s lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, which only forced her humor to escape through the tears gathering in her eyes. Chip’s amusement grew louder, drawing her attention back to him and an exchange of mutual elbow nudges played out at the private joke.

His familiar levity overrode her confusion, and she relaxed a little. With everyone now seated and Whitney already chomping on a bread roll, the prospect of food added another welcome diversion.

So, Ally whiled away dinner by dipping out of the chatter and allowing her parents a chance to grill Chip over his years away while pinning her mind on slipping more and more food into her mouth.

Unfortunately, Laila’s repeated sidelong stares from across the table reduced the places Ally could look, her sister’s scrutiny a gut-churning clue she suspected something.

The harder Laila stared, the hotter Ally’s cheeks got, her pale complexion already known to make her emotions all too easy to read. Especially for someone who knew her as well as Laila.

Even though Whitney’s birth meant they didn’t hang out alone much anymore, Laila had witnessed every one of Ally’s wild misadventures. Her years of perpetual singledom. Her failed crushes. Dean’s rejection.

No doubt Laila already predicted Ally falling for Chip too. Heck, Ally could see it happening as well—but maybe, just maybe—this one time, she’d succeed in letting things be.

He’s not here long. I’ll ride this one out and be okay.

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