Page 164 of Our Little Secret

“Figure it out,” Marilee said, her chin jutted out angrily. “And both of you—you and Leah—grow the fuck up! Thank God I didn’t invite Wes into this shitstorm!”

“Wow!” Brooke was stunned at Marilee’s language. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again!” Brooke warned, but Marilee was out of the room and up the stairs, Shep at her heels.

“Great. Just . . . great.” A headache beginning to throb behind her eyes, Brooke leaned against the kitchen counter and took deep breaths. First two. Then five. Then ten. Until she felt her blood pressure returning to normal and some of her mercurial anger subside. She was still pissed beyond pissed at her sister, still didn’t trust Eli Stone, and was furious with her daughter, but she tried to rein in all her fury.

It was Christmas.

They were a family.

And Leah, whether Brooke liked it or not, was marrying Eli Stone.

Whoever the hell he was.

The headache fueled by the aftereffects of the alcohol, arguments, and head-splitting memories was really taking hold. She found some Tylenol in the kitchen cupboard near the sink and uncapped the bottle just as she heard a door close upstairs and then heavy steps as Eli returned.

Perfect, she thought, shaking out two capsules and swallowing them dry. For the first time they were relatively alone. Dangerous as that may be, there was a chance she could get some answers, or that he might slip up and reveal himself.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, glancing around.

“They all retreated to their corners. Leah’s upstairs, right?”

He gave a short nod. “And pissed.”

“She and I got into it,” she explained. “Too much alcohol. Too little good judgment. And then there’s the problem of the mystery fiancé.”

“No mystery,” he insisted, but beyond his innocence she saw something darker—or was she imagining it all?

“I just want you to know that I don’t believe a word you say. Why aren’t you with your family? It’s Christmas.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Convenient.”

He winced. “That’s harsh.”

“Okay. Maybe.” Was he playing her? Of course. “So why don’t you have one?”

“Car accident. Long time ago.”

He was serious. Grim. And for the first time Brooke thought there was a grain of truth to his words. “Your parents?”

“And brother.”

“God, I’m sorry,” she said automatically, though she still didn’t trust him.

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Yeah. A Silverado’s a great pickup. Turns out it’s no match for a fully loaded log truck.” His voice was flat. “Dad and my brother died at the scene. Mom a couple of days later. “ His eyes had turned dark and she sensed a resentment that hadn’t been there earlier. “Anything else you want to know?”

She felt a fleeting pang of regret but reminded herself that this man was an incredible liar, so she plowed on, ignoring the hard set of his jaw. “What about other siblings? I’d think they’d want to come to the wedding.”

Something glittered in his eyes. Something dangerous. It came quickly but just as rapidly vanished. He gave his head a sharp shake. “Just Jake, and he’s gone.”

“When did it happen?” she asked.

He hesitated. Then lifted a shoulder. “A while. Goin’ on twenty years or so.”

“You were just a kid—teenager,” she said, telling herself the story might not be true, not to fall for it, reminding herself this was the man who’d sworn he’d never let her go. And now he was back. Lying. Pretending to be someone else. All her defenses were up.

He shrugged at the mention of his age. “Doesn’t matter. I got by.”