Page 36 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

36

TREY

Last month, I made a special trip into Chinatown to purchase more healing products, and I’m so glad I did. I’m surprised by how well Healing Water and Healing Goo work on Arella. It works like it does on any other person. It only took two days of light application for that cut on her lip to disappear. As for the rest of her body, it took a week of me sneaking doses of Healing Water into her system.

I offered her “Sprite” with all of her meals, because lemon-lime flavored Healing Water tastes just like Sprite. Whenever she said no , I filled her glass with regular Healing Water instead. Since it looks, tastes, and smells the same as filtered water, she didn’t notice a difference.

I’ve stopped giving her Healing Water now that it’s been over two weeks since the car accident. Thankfully, Victor hasn’t pulled any more stunts since then. Not for a lack of begging.

Lately, our phone calls have been conversations where I’ll spit out any excuse in the book to keep Arella away from him. Something’s been bugging me about Victor, and it’s not just that he purposely crashed a truck into Arella’s car.

It’s that he said he wanted to see if causing her to feel an “extreme emotion” would get me to sense her. If that’s the case, why did he cause a car accident when I was nowhere near Arella at the time? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to do it while I was in the car with her? I’d like to think he didn’t want to risk my life, but let’s be real—he doesn’t give a shit about me. So why did he lie? What’s he up to?

I don’t know the answers. What I do know is that it’s my job to keep Arella away from him. That’s why as she leaves for work in her new car for the first time after the accident, I call her so we can talk on her drive. This way, I’ll know immediately if Victor pulls another car crash. On her way home, I call her again, and we talk until she pulls into the driveway.

I do this every day for a week.

All is well until the next Monday. On Arella’s way home from work, I call her three times. Each time, it goes straight to voicemail. I’m at home, staring at my phone, waiting for either the glimmer to hit me or another call from the hospital with bad news. I swear, if that happens again, I’ll rush to Shadow Ridge myself just so I can punch Victor in the face.

I keep staring at my phone, willing for Arella to call me back.

She must hear my silent plea, because finally, her name and picture pop up on my screen.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I just got to my apartment.” She sounds hesitant, and I don’t like it.

“Okay?” Woulda been nice if she had told me she was going there, but whatever. “When are you gonna be home?”

“Actually, I was thinking about having a night to myself.”

I shoot up from the couch. “What?”

“I haven’t spent a night in my own place for a while. I’m still paying rent on this, ya know?”

“Then stop paying rent and move in completely.”

“I can’t. My lease isn’t up.”

I pace toward my kitchen. My hands are jittery, antsy to hold her. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord wants.”

“Honey,” she says slowly, “I just want a night to myself, okay?”

“What for?”

“I . . . I need some time to think.”

“About?”

I wait for what feels like a whole minute before she finally says, “I don’t know. Everything.”

“Cool. We can think together. I’ll be there soon.” I’m done with this shit, and I need to see her. Now.

“Nooo, Tr?—”

I’m already out the door by the time I hang up. What the hell does she need to think about?

I’ve only been in her apartment for five minutes, and our conversation has already turned into a heated argument. I want to know why she’s pushing me away, and she keeps giving me vague answers. She’s hiding something from me. I can feel it.

I’m the first to raise my voice. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I wanted to be alone tonight. Is that too much to ask?” She’s planted on the edge of her mattress as I pace her bedroom floor. My hair is all messy from how many times I’ve run my hands through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

She groans, exasperated. “For the third time, no.”

My knees thump onto the carpet as I kneel in front of her. In my sweetest voice possible, I say, “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”

She rubs her long hair between her fingers, looking anywhere but at me.

I grab her hand to stop her from fidgeting. “Babe, please. What’s wrong?”

“I . . . I’ve been having doubts . . . about us.”

I shoot up onto my feet. “What?” I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, and here she is questioning it? “Why?”

“I dunno. I feel like lately, we’ve been having too much sex. I feel like it’s all you want me for. You want it all the time. When we wake up. After lunch. After dinner. Before bed. It’s just a lot.”

“First off,” I say, scoffing because my ego is slightly bruised, “sex is not the only thing I want you for. And second, I didn’t realize you weren’t enjoying it. I can tone it down.”

“I do enjoy it, Trey.”

“Then what’s the problem?” This isn’t the real issue. There’s something else. Is it because of all those things she listed off that’s weird about me? Last week, I made it a point to stay in bed with her throughout the night, and I haven’t been working out lately, to avoid her questions about how I don’t sweat.

“I...” Her tone softens. “I don’t want to end up as a part of your list.”

“My list?”

“Yeah. You know. The list of girls you’ve fucked and forget about later.”

List of girls I’ve fucked? What? Obviously, she doesn’t understand how special she is to me, probably because I haven’t told her that I love her. I want to say those words, but I don’t know how. And now isn’t the right time.

I kneel in front of her again, taking her hands into mine. “Arella, you are not a part of any list. Don’t ever think that. You mean so much more to me than that. You have no fucking clue how broken I’d be without you. Honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to function.” Those are the realest words I’ve ever said to anyone, and I mean all of it.

Her voice gets small, and she places a hand over her heart. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I’ve been asking you to move to Paris with me. How else would I feel about you?”

She rolls her head back, yanking her hands away. “Ugh! Paris!”

“What?” I hate the way she says Paris like it’s a poisonous word.

“You keep bringing it up.”

“And?”

“Trey, I’m not moving to Paris!” Now, it’s her who’s shouting.

“Why not?”

“Oh my god.” She clasps her hands against her face. “I cannot keep having this same conversation with you over and over.”

I throw my arms up in surrender. “Just hear me out, okay? Picture this. You. Me. In a villa. Every day, we wake up to a beautiful sunrise. Every night, we fall asleep together with our little puppy. We could even travel for a while before settling into a place. Eventually, you could own your own bakery down the road. I could help you run it. It’ll be perfect.”

“What about my grandparents?”

“I’ll buy them a villa too. Just as long as it’s not right next to ours. At least down the road or something. Don’t want ’em to hear you screaming my name all the time.” I smirk, waggling my eyebrows up and down. She doesn’t take the bait. She remains serious.

“What if they don’t want to move?”

“Then they’re just a plane ride away.”

“Where will we get the money to fly back and forth all the time? Plane tickets around the world aren’t cheap, ya know.”

“Arella...” I say with a groan. “I have plenty of money.”

“You keep saying that. How much money do you actually have?”

I shrug. “Enough.”

“Care to put a number on that?”

“Millions.”

She slumps her head to the side. “Yeah, right.”

Why does she have to say it like that? Like it’s too impossible to believe. Like I’m embellishing it. She doesn’t even stop to consider that I could be telling the truth.

“I could prove it to you. Just need to log into my online bank accounts.”

She presses her eyebrows together. “You don’t act like you have millions of dollars. I mean, sure, you have nice things, but millions? What did your parents research that you inherited that much?”

Exasperated, I stand, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m not here to try to convince her that I could buy her a private island if she wanted it. I’m here because for some odd reason, she’s pulling away, and I’m not going to allow it. “Look, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can either come to Paris willingly, or tied up and duct-taped.”

“Would you really do that?”

“Pretty close to it.” I’m dead serious. We’re running out of time.

Arella glares at me. “Kidnapping is a federal crime, Trey Grant.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not actually gonna kidnap her—unless it’s absolutely necessary for her safety.

She pushes off the bed to open a drawer. A shirt and a pair of boxers fly at my head.

I catch them against my face. “What the?—”

“It’s the clothes you let me wear home that day we threw flour at each other. I keep forgetting to give them back to you.”

My heart drops. “Why are you doing so now?”

“Trey.” She sighs. “I just need some time to myself, okay? Please, just take your things and leave. We can talk more tomorrow.”

My mouth pops open, but no words come out. It takes me a moment to gather myself. “Why does it feel like you’re breaking up with me?”

“I’m not,” she says, and it only makes me feel a sliver better. “But I still need you to go. And take your belongings.”

In a single motion, I scoop her into my arms and storm out of her bedroom.

She squirms, smacking my chest. “Put me down!”

“No,” I say firmly. “You said to go and to take my belongings, so I am.”

She goes limp, slapping a hand over her forehead, but with a hint of a smile. “And you say I’m the difficult one.”

In the living room, I set her back onto her feet before firmly taking her face into my palms. I stare straight into her eyes, silently pleading for her to hear my next words with her whole heart.

“You belong with me, Arella, and I belong with you. I’m not leaving here without you, and if you’re not leaving, then I’m staying.”

She blinks up at me with her long black lashes. Before I can take another breath, she crashes her lips against mine, stealing all the air from my lungs.