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

  “You know what? I did.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I would, you know? I thought I’d be stressed about everything. I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

  “I knew you’d be able to handle it,” she said.

  “I love you,” Ilya said.

  It came up and out of him as easily as any words ever had in his entire life. Stranger still, he didn’t regret saying them. If anything, the relief of finally admitting it to her had him breathing a deep-seated sigh.

  “I . . . oh my God,” Theresa said. “Wow.”

  Ilya leaned closer. “Don’t say it back or anything, it’s not like I care. I’m going to love you whether you love me back. I’m all in it, and there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  “I love you, too,” Theresa whispered into his kiss. “Weirdo.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Theresa would always remember the quarry best in the early autumn, when the leaves had started to change color but had not yet begun to fall. They’d been a quintet all those years ago, and now were only four, but they were good together, all of them. She and Ilya. Niko and Alicia.

  A lot had happened over the past year. Loss, renewal, beginnings, endings. Most of all, though, love. They’d all found love.

  With her fingers linked in Ilya’s, she let him lead the way over the small curb of asphalt that ridged the cul-de-sac and to the small patch of scrubby grass beyond. Then into the trees, all of them ducking as they pushed through the line of evergreens to get to the path Ilya had made.

  Behind her, Alicia and Niko were also holding hands. Ilya held a golden-leafed limb out of the way so they could all pass. The path beneath their feet was uneven and curving, but none of them stumbled or fell.

  Alicia paused at the spot where the old equipment shed had once stood. Only for a moment. The bad memories that lingered there were never going to disappear entirely, but without the shed to hold on to them, maybe at least they could fade.

  The sun was beginning to drop on the horizon by the time they got to the clearing, where there had once been an old rope swing, and the rock ledge, where they’d spent so many hours sunning themselves and jumping off into the quarry’s water. The day had been warm, but the coming night breeze was chilly. It blew the hair back from Theresa’s face as she zipped her jacket up to her throat.

  “Look at that.” Ilya pointed across the water to the construction. The hotel, higher on the ridge, was nearly finished. The time-share condos had been open for about a month. “I heard the hotel opens next month. Too late for swimming.”

  “There’s always next summer.” Theresa looped her arm through his as they stood at the edge of the overhang. “We’ll pack a picnic. Rent a canoe.”

  He laughed, looking at her. “Sure we will.”

  “It might be fun,” Niko said as he and Alicia took their places beside Theresa and Ilya. “You never know.”

  Ilya pulled a bottle from his pocket and unscrewed the cap. He lifted it in the direction of the condos and hotel. “Vashee zda-ró-vye.”

  “To closing doors and opening windows,” Theresa said, and took a small sip from the bottle before passing it to Niko.

  “Vashee zda-ró-vye,” he repeated. “To health and wealth and happiness.”

  “To the memory of those no longer with us,” Alicia said quietly and took her own sip. “The ones we loved and those we struggle to love.”

  Jenni. Babulya. Galina, who had not died but who certainly was no longer with them and wasn’t likely to be for a long time. Theresa’s father, whom she had struggled to love.

  “To B’s Diner,” Ilya said when the bottle came back to him. “And to bees, in general. May the keeping of them never sting any of us!”

  Niko took the bottle his brother offered and swigged before putting the cap back on. “Dare you to jump in.”

  “No way. I like my nuts unfrozen, thanks.”

  Niko guffawed and clapped his brother on the back. “Like you have nuts.”

  They both fake-tussled for a moment, pushing Theresa’s heart into her throat for a few moments when they got too close to the edge. The brothers stopped at the clatter and splash of pebbles being kicked off the ledge and into the water. All of them turned, the four of them in a line, with the sun’s final light pushing their shadows out behind them.

  In the water, something splashed. Too far away to be the rocks they’d kicked. Something else that rose and gleamed and sent a spray of water into the sky.

  “Chester,” Ilya said solemnly.

  Niko shook his head. “No way.”

  Alicia stepped forward, shading her eyes to look out across the water. She turned to face them, her eyes bright with tears, but a broad smile on her face. “It’s Jenni, I think.”

  If Alicia wanted to think that, it was all right with Theresa. It surprised her, though, when Alicia took Theresa’s hand. Still looking out over the water, the other woman squeezed Theresa’s fingers.

  “I lost my sister so many years ago.” Alicia’s quiet voice carried out over the water, lifted on the breeze. “We all lost her, and we will always miss her. But she’s never going to be completely gone. Not while we all still have each other . . . however messed up it might be.”

  Theresa laughed around the lump in her throat. She and Alicia bumped shoulders. “It’s a mess, all right.”

  “A good mess,” Ilya said from her other side.

  His arm snaked around Alicia’s back to pull her closer, as he handed off the bottle to his brother and then hugged her hard with both arms. When the kiss broke, Ilya was smiling.

  “Love you,” he mouthed.

  “Love you, too,” she whispered back.

  She caught Alicia glancing at them, and for a moment Theresa hesitated. She might always hesitate, just a little, the way she supposed Ilya was always going to have a millisecond’s hesitation at the sight of his brother together with his ex-wife. It was complicated and messy, but it was also going to be okay. Everything was going to be more than okay. They were all starting something brand-new.

  And it was going to be amazing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2014 Whitney Hart

  Megan Hart writes books. Some of them use a lot of bad words, but most of the other words are okay. She can’t live without music, the Internet, or the ocean, but she and soda have achieved an amicable uncoupling. She can’t stand the feeling of corduroy or velvet, and modern art leaves her cold. She writes a little bit of everything from horror to romance, though she’s best known for writing erotic fiction that sometimes makes you cry.

  Find out more about her at meganhart.com, or if you really want to get crazy, follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/megan_hart and Facebook at www.facebook.com/readinbed.