Page 54 of Our Little Secret

He’d kissed her then. First a soft, questioning brush of his lips over hers. When she hadn’t pulled away, had pressed her lips to his, he’d kissed her again. Hard. She’d felt a warmth inside, a melting that she’d never experienced before, and she hadn’t backed away but kissed him back. Fervently. The warmth deep inside of her pulsing with each probe of his tongue. The fact that if Leah ever found out she’d be pissed and hurt had made it all the more seductive. The secret betrayal made it thrilling. For once, with that little edge of danger, Brooke savored the flirting, the kissing, the touching, the edge of danger that she and Neal might be exposed, that she was stepping over a dangerous, erotic line.

Forbidden fruit.

In the months that followed heated passion had turned to something deeper. She spent more time alone with Neal, and when he’d taken her to bed in a room lit by the weird, undulating light from a retro lava lamp, she’d lost her heart as well as her virginity to him. It didn’t matter that he smoked weed, or that he had a pistol in a bedside table that his grandfather had bequeathed to him, or, the worst part, that he was Leah’s fantasy boyfriend. Leah had still seen Neal as a tutor and still thought she was in love with him, though Neal swore he wasn’t leading her on.

Brooke had never really been sure about that part. And she’d had a few trepidations due to her previous relationship and how it had crumbled emotionally as well as physically. But Neal was a pathway far from Keith and the horror of their last fight. So painful. So physical. Nearly deadly.

What she did know was that she and Neal had fallen in love and hidden their feelings from Leah, who only discovered the truth when Brooke ended up pregnant and was forced to confess.

“Are you kidding me?” Leah had raged, tears building in her eyes as she sat on the edge of her bed in her pink, spangled room.

“It’s true,” Brooke answered from the doorway.

“No! I don’t believe you!” The devastation was written all over her face.

“It’s true.” Brooke met her sister’s injured glare. “I–I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Leah had sputtered. “And you’re going to have a baby? Oh God.” Tears ran down her cheeks. She glared at her sister with accusing, hate-filled eyes. “You’re going to have ababy?” she repeated, then spat out, “Are you even sure it’s his?”

“I’m sure.” Brooke tried to sit next to Leah on the handstitched quilt that Nana had made, but her sister bolted from the bed, then turned sharply on her heel.

“You’ve been lying to me? Cheating behind my back! How could you? Huh, Brooke, how could you do this to me?” Leah broke into racking sobs, tears running down her cheeks.

Brooke had felt more than a twinge of guilt. “I said I’m sorry and I meant it,” she repeated, the walls of Leah’s small bedroom seeming to move closer. “It . . . it just happened.”

“What? No! Uh-uh, Brooke. Don’t give me that! It didnot‘just happen’!” Leah insisted, mascara drizzling from her eyes. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard, the one every damned cheater in the world uses.”

“No, I swear, I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you did, Brooke. Youmeantto. Nealmeantto. Zippers don’t just slide down by themselves!” She blinked hard and threw herself at Brooke, grabbing her around the neck. “You know what you are? You’re a sick, pathetic bitch who has always been jealous of me. I’m prettier. Friendlier. More fun! Boys like me more. Teachers like me better and you can’t stand it!”

“I really didn’t—”

“Shut up! Just shut the—just shut up!” In a rage, she slapped her sister. Full force, across the face.

Brooke saw red, her mercurial temper spiking. And she remembered Keith Turnquist, and how she’d ended up with the scar on her neck, just to the back of her ear.

Her fists balled up and Leah sneered. “Go ahead, Brooke. Try it! I’ll call the police and then what? Another report where you’re involved. It won’t look good, will it? What would Neal say then?” She paused for a second, then added, “I hate you!” Angrily, she yanked her pink roller bag from the closet, the one that matched Brooke’s, the last gift they’d each received the Christmas before their mother died.

Stunned, Brooke stood by wanting to hit her, holding her sore jaw, needing to ask her forgiveness.

As if possessed by a demon, Leah began frantically ripping clothes out of her small dresser, throwing bras, socks and underwear, jeans and sweaters into the bag before storming to her closet and stripping the hangers bare.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“You’re leaving?”

“See,” Leah taunted, “youarethe smart one.”

Brooke grabbed her sister’s arm as Leah tossed a pair of hiking boots and then sandals into the bag. She forced down her temper and said through gritted teeth, “Stop this!”

“No.” Leah yanked her arm away, her eyes daring her older sister to hit her.

“You can’t go anywhere,” Brooke said. This had gone too far. Even for Leah.

“Why not? What’re you going to do to stop me? Call the cops? I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Or maybe you can call your boyfriend who knocked you up?” She paused for a second, then said, “Nope. You wouldn’t. Too dangerous!” Then her face twisted in revulsion. “You disgust me!” She opened a drawer and pulled out a small zippered case of makeup which she stuffed into the bag. Then angrily crammed a plastic pouch holding some of her jewelry inside.