Page 30 of Secondhand Secrets

“Chip.” She rolled onto her back, and the blue sky lightened the color of her eyes. “Do you remember the last time we came here together?”

He ran a knuckle down her upturned face, swishing willow branches casting mild shadows over her skin, all while his memories slipped to their last visit to this river. The eve of him leaving for Boston.

The weather had been cooling and headed for winter, the overcast sky turning the choppy Mirabelle nickel gray when she’d asked him to kiss her. Not because she’d liked him in any romantic way. No. She’d just been scared that, with him gone, it might be years before she knew a boy well enough to get another chance.

Weird teenager logic, sure, and he’d made a show of laughing and pretending to be grossed out, her request only exacerbating his ache over leaving. But even back then, he’d known not to throw himself into something that meant the world to him and nothing to her.

Now, her gaze searched his, lips bent into a tiny frown. He needed to hurry and answer, even through the renewed misery of that past exchange. “Is that why you picked this place? Because of a fumbled kiss?”

“No, Chip. Because this spot was only ever special because of you and—” She shrugged, gaze veering away. “I mentioned that last time because I sold you way too short. I tried to rope you into helping me tick off some dumb milestone, and I’m sorry.”

She returned her attention and hit him with a smile so big that it pushed aside any lingering bitterness, prompting him to joke back. “I’m still pissed at you, by the way.”

She gave a light laugh and reached out to stroke his jawline, her soft touch encouraging him to turn his head and kiss her palm. Her smile grew some more, and she added, “You were here for so long, yah know? A huge part of my everyday life until you weren’t. Suddenly, everything I did, I did alone. And I know this is way over the top, but a part of me has been kinda adrift ever since.”

For the longest time, the river’s lapping and the rustle of willow overtook every sound but the hard pound of his heartbeat in his ears. All because she’d said everything he’d wanted to hear. Everything he’d felt back then and still, now. But he’d be leaving again soon, and had other priorities beyond her and this small town. What comfort did her admission really offer outside of dangling the illusion of something that could never be real?

So, he clamped his jaw shut to keep from reminding her not to get too invested in him, only daring to speak once he had something positive to say. “Ally, you’ve got time.”

Time for what? To find someone else?

What a ridiculous thing to say.

A lump formed in his throat. Maybe his words were ridiculous, but they offered more to her than anything else he could suggest. She wanted stability, and someone who could at least stick around. He possessed neither.

“Yah know, I tell myself that a lot.” She paused, her strain-filled gaze shifting about his face as though she thought twice about what she had to say next. “But I’ve been rejected so many times now, I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. Am I too much? Not enough? Maybe you can tell me, Chip. Just once… just once, I want to know what it’s like to fall in love. Even better, to have someone love me back. Is that too much to ask?”

Fourteen

Ally forced her stare to hold Chip’s, her heartbeat thundering like a thousand wild horses charging dry ground. She’d exposed her deepest wish. To love. To be loved. And all her insecurities over having neither. Now, even though she lay comfortably beside him, the Mirabelle’s burble colluded with the sun’s soft flicker through the trees, painting a calming scene that laughed at her misery over not being able to read his thoughts.

For so long, she’d worried there was something wrong with her. Something everyone else but her could see. Like she missed some crucial piece that made her strike out on love time and time again.

So maybe Chip could provide some answers. He’d be leaving soon, so what risk did he have in telling her the truth?

Or maybe he’d offer more of the same. Rejection. Indifference. Her vulnerability in this moment once again amounting to nothing.

His attention drifted over her face before he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

His gentle delivery lingered in her ears, and he went on to stroke the pad of his thumb over her cheek, giving his words more weight than any hollow platitude. “You’re perfect, Ally. To me anyway.”

Her breath stilled, and she blinked at him. Numb. Stupidly silent. Her muscles warming at his sentiments while her fingers coiled into the soft grass beneath her hand. “Well then, maybe there’s something wrong with you too?”

He gave a soft laugh, and though she told herself he might be just like the others—only meaning to be nice—the slow smile at his lips didn’t say nice. Nor did his steady eye contact. All signs of emotions he refused to utter out loud.

Or maybe that’s just my wild imagination again.

He blew a hard breath and rolled onto his back, his stare pinned to the sky. “Okay, let’s figure this out. Why do you think relationships just aren’t happening for you?”

Though his diversion snaked cold reality through her body, the fact he blinked at the great blue yonder, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, offered some comfort that he too felt heartsick at not being able to simply suggest himself as the remedy.

“I don’t know.” She rolled onto her back, too, once again using his arm as a pillow. “Despite what you’ve seen from my quarrel with Sarah, I generally avoid conflict and try my best to be the fun girl. I’m not that bad to look at.” She peered up at him and shrugged. “Fun and at least a little attractive, shouldn’t that be enough?”

He stroked a hand over her hair, returning his focus to the sky. “On a surface level, sure, but maybe the timing just hasn’t been right?”

She spluttered a small laugh and shook her head. “I doubt it. Look at Laila, twenty-six and already divorced with a kid. Meanwhile, I never even left the starting block.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Laila?” Through his flat delivery, his attention returned to her with a raised brow. “Sarah’s told me a little about your sister’s troubles and—”

---