All the Secrets We Keep (Quarry Book 2) Read online

  She was quiet after that. They reached the smooth, flat area and the rocky outcrop a few minutes after that. It hadn’t changed. The moon glinted off the water that rippled in a faint breeze. Her toe caught a rock, which leaped across the ledge and through the air to the water beyond. She waited for the sound of it hitting. Ilya had moved on ahead of her to stand at the edge.

  “Funny how it never freaked me out how high this was, back then,” he said quietly. “We’d jump off it like it was nothing.”

  “That’s what you do when you’re young. You jump without thinking. When you get older, you start to be afraid of breaking something.” Theresa stood beside him, looking down into the water. It was going to be cold, she thought. And there was no way she was jumping from here.

  “The rope’s gone.” He jerked a thumb back toward the closest tree. “But you can still get down the path there to the water. If you don’t want to jump from the ledge, I mean.”

  She looked at him. “Do you want to?”

  “It’s dangerous,” Ilya said.

  “Yes.” She waited for him to continue and, when he didn’t, added, “but we’ve come all this way.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t change our minds.”

  She thought about the truth of that for a few seconds before she answered. “Are you saying this because you’re afraid I’m going to laugh at your junk?”

  “Because I’m . . . damn, woman. Again with the jabs about what I’ve got going on in my jeans. If you’re not careful, I’m going to start thinking you’re dying to find out.”

  She laughed at that. “Dream on.”

  Staring her down, Ilya stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the ground. She wanted to look away but refused to give him the satisfaction. His gaze stabbing hers, he undid the button of his jeans and pushed them over his hips to stand in front of her in a pair of tight red briefs.

  “What?” Ilya said, throwing out his hands and giving her a head wag. “What, you can’t handle it?”

  Without a word, Theresa unzipped the hoodie to reveal the thin tank top she’d been wearing as pajamas. The night air was much warmer than it had been for months, but nevertheless her nipples peaked against the soft fabric. Ilya was no longer snaring her gaze; he was checking out the front of her shirt. More warmth flooded her, even as gooseflesh rose along her arms and the fine hairs at the back of her neck. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pajama bottoms, then slipped them over her thighs and stepped out of them to stand, clad in only the tiny lace panties she’d been wearing when he texted her.

  “Are we doing this?” she asked him. “Or are we just talking about it?”

  Ilya looked toward the water. The moon at this point had risen high enough so that their shadows stretched out long and dark in front of them. It cast a shimmer on the rippling waters below.

  “If we’re doing it, we’re doing it together.”

  “Deal.” Theresa moved to the edge and held out her hand for him to take. He did, standing beside her with his fingers squeezing hers. Together, they peered over the edge.

  She did not want to jump.

  She could think of at least a hundred things she’d rather do than leap off this ledge and plunge herself into the frigid quarry waters. Yet here she was, and she was the one who’d urged him to do it. The same way she’d convinced him to sell the quarry to begin with, then had led him toward buying the diner. She wasn’t going to back out now.

  “Are you scared, Theresa?”

  “Yes.”

  “You never liked to jump,” Ilya said. “You always went down the hill.”

  She straightened, lifting her chin. “So tonight’ll be a first.”

  “Your first time,” Ilya said with a lilt in his voice, laughter that faded into a smile. “I’m honored.”

  “Let’s go,” Theresa said. Before she lost her nerve.

  They put their toes over the edge, looking down.

  “One,” Ilya said. “Two . . .”

  “Three!” They both cried at the same time, leaping together.

  Hurtling through the air, Theresa was convinced she’d made the wrong choice. She would bounce off the rocks, break her bones. She would drown and die here in the same spot Jenni had so many years ago, but this would not be an accident. She’d done this to herself, her own bad decisions . . .

  Somehow, she hadn’t let go of Ilya’s hand. When they hit the water, Theresa tried to scream, but nothing came out beyond a startled squawk. She’d forgotten to hold her nose, and grabbed for it at the last second as the water engulfed her and everything went dark. She’d closed her eyes but opened them as she kicked, frantic to get herself to the surface. Panicking a little.

  She broke the water with a gasp that became a delighted shout. “Yeah-h-h-h!”

  Beside her, Ilya surfaced. He sprayed a long blast of water and kicked to end up on his back, arms spread. “Nice.”

  Theresa treaded water, pushing the hair out of her face. Her teeth started to chatter, chipping her laughter into tiny shards like crushed ice. She splashed at him. He splashed back.

  “We didn’t bring any towels,” Theresa said.

  There was no question of them lingering in the water. In the hottest days of August, the temperature would’ve been barely tolerable for a long period of time. In late April, even after a mild winter, the water was already turning her toes numb. She struck out for the shore, finding her rhythm after a moment or so. It had been a long time since she’d gone swimming.

  They made it up the hill to the ledge, where she grabbed up her hoodie and slipped into it with a grateful sigh. Her pj bottoms next, though the fabric clung to her wet legs and made it hard to get them on without a struggle.

  Ilya was having similar problems with his jeans, but finally they managed to get dressed. He sat with his legs over the edge, and after a minute, Theresa joined him. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. She was far from dry, but her teeth had stopped chattering.

  “I haven’t done that in a long time,” Ilya said after a while. He shrugged, not looking at her. “I’ve been in this water thousands of times since . . . then. But never from here. Never off the ledge like this. I’ve come out here so many times, but I was never able to do it.”

  The hitch in his breath alarmed her. When he bowed his head, shoulders hunched, and let out a long, low sigh, she did the first thing she thought of—she put her arm around his shoulders. Ilya pressed his face against her shoulder.

  “I loved her so much, Theresa.”

  Her throat closed, hot tears sparking the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away fiercely and half turned to press her lips to his wet hair. “I know you did. She was easy to love.”

  He laughed hoarsely. “No. She was fucking hard to love, Theresa. Nobody else seemed to think that. Only me. And by the time I figured out that it didn’t have to be so hard, it was too late.”

  Theresa stroked a hand over his hand and the back of his neck. She let her hand settle between his shoulder blades. His shirt was damp, but the heat from his body came through it. She listened to the sound of him breathing.

  “I thought for a while that it was my fault. That she’d done it, you know, on purpose. To herself. Because of me.”

  “Ilya . . .”

  He shook his head, sitting up but not moving away. He swiped at his face angrily, perhaps ashamed of the tears that glittered on his cheeks in the moon’s fierce white glow. “I thought I’d done something to her to make her hate her life so much that she wanted to end it.”

  Theresa had never heard even a rumor that Jenni had committed suicide. “I always thought it was an accident. Nobody ever said otherwise.”

  “That’s what they determined. That she was high and drunk and she came out here.” He slapped at the stone beneath them. “Here, right here, and she fell. She broke her neck, did you know that? She didn’t drown. They found drugs and booze in her blood, but I guess they can tell if you’re already dead before you hit the water.”

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