One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

I waste about an hour, mindlessly driving around Kansas City in a windstorm before I’m calm enough to go back to Mom’s.

I should have fucking known she’d self-destruct.

A few weeks in paradise can’t overcome a lifetime of trauma at the hands of her asshole parents.

I’m strong, but I can’t keep her together.

Not when she doesn’t trust me enough to let me.

Not when she doesn’t believe in herself like I do.

Not when I dropped those haunting words—I love you—and she couldn’t goddamn say it back.

Whatever happens with Arlo, she’s signaling it’s over.

The worst part is, I want to hate her and I can’t.

Hate would be so much easier than whatever this stewing emotional chaos is.

Anger, yes. But also a hurt I didn’t think I’d ever feel—the kind that tears out organs.

All because she’s a prisoner to this bullshit idea that she’s Miss Unlucky.

I chew on my thoughts so hard I accidentally bite my inner cheek.

The blood is just the icing on this rancid cake tonight.

The city is deserted with the chilly wind and it’s approaching midnight. A couple lonely, determined joggers sprint down dark streets.

Once, I might’ve joined them on a night like this that’s made for soul-eating thoughts.

Not now.

Not while my son is in the hospital.

You’ll always be in his life.

Her cruel promise drifts back to me and there’s so much to unpack there. I don’t have the brains or the balls to go back and hash it out with her.

How will co-parenting work when she’s on a fucking boat somewhere?

It’s clear she doesn’t expect me to be there by her side.

Does she want me to just hang around and wait until it’s convenient for her to come back for the odd weekend when I can see my son? Will I need a lawyer, hounding her for visitation rights?

Will Arlo be a tennis ball, slapped around like every couple who splits and can’t agree to anything?

Fuck, I hope not.

It can’t come to that.

But I can’t rip them apart, either. Whatever else she might be, Salem’s a great mom, and she has a good relationship with the boy.

I swing into a gas station lot and let my head thunk back against the seat. All this shit feels like a conversation for another time, when Arlo isn’t stuck in the hospital and I’m not rattled from her breaking things off the way she did.

Or did I break them off, too?

But what was I supposed to do when she told me she was leaving to chase a new dream that doesn’t include me?

This has clearly been on her brain for a while.

I have an ugly feeling this boat shit has been in the cards for weeks, even if it wasn’t spelled out until Arlo got sick. She’s just been waiting for the right time to bail because she just can’t handle the fact that I could make her happy.

That life might stop spitting in her face and let her have an honest to God family.

I don’t know if I hate her or I love her or it’s somewhere in between, this disgusting no man’s land haunted by her betrayal and Arlo’s poisoning.

All I know is, no matter how pissed I am right now, I won’t go hurting her.

My phone buzzes.

I’m sorry, Patton. I’m sorry a hundred times.

I’m back with Arlo. If you don’t want to talk right now, I get it. I’ll keep you updated and make sure you’re authorized to hear from the doctor.

Guess she’s just as hurt and confused as I am.

This lunacy hurts, partly because it’s familiar. About as much as finding out my dad died when I was too young to even comprehend it.

At least then, I didn’t really know what it meant.

That was an accident, too, Dad and his stupid damn plane.

Terrible, yes. Life-shifting.

Yet we’d pulled together as a family because of it. We came together for Mom and three lost boys figured out how to grow up faster.

Years later, Archer came up with the concept for what became Higher Ends. We each did our time in the military and experienced the world before coming home to the only place that ever mattered.

Why is this so hard?

Why can’t I make Salem see?

A tragedy is only a fucking end if you run.

I grit my teeth and toss my phone aside.

There’s no chance I’m speaking to her again until this situation gets sorted. Once I have evidence to nail Evelyn with maximum criminal penalties and Arlo has recovered, then we can talk.

The winds keep howling as I drive back to Mom’s house. Even though it’s late—morning now, technically—all the lights are blazing in the house, and two other cars are parked in the driveway.

Archer and Dexter. Of course they’d be here. They’ve probably gotten a head start on tearing through walls, looking for a single scrap of that poison plant.

Juniper greets me in the hall, an apron around her waist and her red hair scraped back in a bun. Her eyes are shadowed as she pulls me into a hug.

“Oh my God, Patton. I’m so sorry,” she murmurs.

“For what?”

“Arlo. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my—” She stops and bites her lip like she knows she just said too much.

“What?” I stop myself. The way she’s looking at me says everything. “How did you know?”

“I have eyes, you know. Unlike the rest of them.” She snorts. “But don’t worry, Dex doesn’t know. I thought you’d spill the truth when you’re good and ready.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I shake my head.

“Because if you wanted us to know so bad, you’d tell us.” Her eyes are steady, though I know from experience she’s got a temper to rival Dexter’s worst bad day.

It’s firmly tucked away now. She’s not angry at all.

“We’re family,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. “And Salem—now she’s family too.”

Gut punch.

But she’ll have to be, like it or not, if Arlo’s going to be a proper Rory, and he will be. Still, hearing Junie say that scrapes every nerve raw.

“Patton? What’s wrong?” Her hand tightens as she looks at me, searching.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Pat, you done stealing my wife yet?” From the other end of the hall, Dexter leans against the wall. His smile is forced and humorless.

Usually, I’d throw back some shit about being the charming one, but my joke well is dry today. I can’t even smile.

“Everyone’s in the living room,” Junie says quietly. “Your mom, too. She got back a little while ago. I’m sure she’ll be glad you’re here.”

That makes one of us, I suppose.

I wonder if they’ve told her the news yet.

Mom isn’t stupid and she’ll figure it out soon enough.

Junie, Dexter, and I enter the sitting room together. By now, Mom is usually upstairs, reading until she falls asleep. But tonight, she’s slumped along the sofa, her eyes red and swollen. If she had any makeup on before, she’s cried it off.

The ice lodged in my chest grows colder. Evelyn fucking did this, even if Mom remains blissfully ignorant.

“Pat.” Archer holds out a hand, then drops it. “Good to have you back. How’s the kid?”

“He’ll survive.”

“Salem?”

I shrug, and Junie frowns at me.

But Mom finally registers my presence and turns her big eyes on me.

“Patton,” she says brightly. I’ve never seen her this anxious. Not since Dad’s funeral, probably.

The last of my beating heart ices over.

“What did I miss?” I ask harshly.

“Patton!” Junie tugs on my arm, but I shake her off. If they wanted gentle, they came to the wrong place. I used up my softness on Salem and now I’m dry.

“That’s not an answer,” I say. I stride to the mantel because I can’t sit down. Not again. Sitting feels like waiting and the last thing I want to do right now is waste time. “Will you guys tell me what happened while I was gone?”

Dexter and Archer glance at each other.

“It’s Mom’s jewelry,” Dex says, and Mom starts crying into her hands. Junie’s eyes glisten as she wraps an arm around Mom’s shoulders, fumbling in her pocket for a packet of tissues.

I feel nothing. I’m too hollowed out.

“She stole it,” I guess flatly.

“All the expensive stuff,” Archer says. “The antiques, the one-of-a-kind pieces…”

In other words, all the shit Mom owns that’s actually worth something. Not just money, but memories, some stretching back longer than we’ve been alive.

She had a few of her grandma’s old pieces appraised a while back and it came back north of a million.

Fucking hell.

I feel something now.

The kind of slow, killing rage that torches every good thing inside me.

And it feels good to be this angry at someone besides myself, besides Salem, because that anger’s incomplete and muddled.NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

This is different.

This is a death vow.

With Evelyn, I want to tear her grinning, lying face off.

“I’m still in disbelief. I just can’t believe she could do this. I feel so violated,” Mom strangles out, wiping her eyes as Junie hands her a tissue. “My oldest friend, and for no reason…”

“Shhh, Delly,” Junie says. “She must have had a reason, even if it was a terrible one.” She looks pleadingly at Dexter, but for once he has nothing to add. No quip, no wisecrack, no assurances.

He’s usually good at reassurances, but I guess that’s one more thing Evelyn stole away.

“I invited her into my home. I thought she valued my friendship. She watched you boys grow up.” Mom moans into her hand, biting her knuckle as she looks at me. “Was it always all a lie?”

I don’t know.

Her husband certainly fished me out of the lake before I drowned. I don’t remember much about that day, but I know he saved my life.

Evelyn, she just stood around in a panic. Was it in her head somewhere then?

Did she see us as easy pickings if she ever needed a lifeline? Was there already a heartless vulture inside her, waiting for a fresh carcass?

Or did it change when her husband, Walt, died? When grief ate her soul like that hungry crocodile in Egyptian mythology?

“It’s not your fault,” Archer says, his voice low and angry, gunning every word. “She lied to us. All of us.”

“But why?” Mom wails. “Why, Archer?”

“Because she could, Mom.” My voice is a sword. Everyone in the room looks at me. Maybe I shouldn’t state the obvious. “You showed her the jewelry years ago, didn’t you? You two shared everything. Did she know about the appraisal?”

Weeping, Mom pinches her eyes shut and nods painfully.

“Yeah. She knew we had money and she needed it. That’s enough. That’s the entire fucking reason.”

“Language, Patton,” she snaps. “Your father raised us better. We can’t panic and go to pieces now.”

“Dad’s dead,” I tell her, striding past them all into the sunroom. It’s quiet and dark here and I don’t bother flicking on the lights.

She’s redecorated plenty since I lived here, but I still know my way around.

Evelyn sat here with Mom and Salem and Arlo not long ago. Evelyn pretended to care while she hatched an atrocity.

The wind howls against the huge glass windows.

Every part of me feels just as cold as I burst through the French doors, walking to the small shelf near the door leading into the backyard. The world holds its breath, silent even though the light from the sitting room soaks across the potted greenery inside.

They’re plants they must’ve picked up from somewhere recently, lined up in a neat row. Mostly flowers by the look of them, perched inside here for another week or two until it’s warm enough to put them outside.

“Patton.” Dexter calls my name. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Slow down and think. We looked high and low. We couldn’t find anything related to that plant,” Archer says. They’ve always been on a different wavelength from me, my brothers, and it’s never been such a stark contrast.

I suck in a cooling breath of night air. “I’m going to find that backstabbing bitch.”

“Sure.” Archer’s voice is skeptical. “But we need hard evidence to make sure she’s nailed down.”

Dexter puts a hand on my shoulder that I shake off.

“Cool down before you do something stupid,” he warns.

My jaw is so tight it might snap. I’d welcome the pain.

“Something stupid? You mean like going after Evelyn myself?”

“What, you think you’re a bounty hunter now? The police are—”

“The police are useless in a case that’s international,” I snap. “Look, I’m not about to leave this shit to a police report and some FBI case file that moves like a sloth. She could’ve killed my son.”

Shit.

Archer staggers backward and Dexter freezes.

So many questions hang in the air as I storm away from them.

Salem, I could handle being calm around, but not my brothers. They know me too well.

And fuck, it all went down here in this house.

Evelyn was in this house and she tried to poison Arlo. How? There must be something left, some loose end she forgot.

“Son?” Archer asks eventually. “What do you mean, your son?”

“What do you think I mean?” Hiding won’t get me anywhere. The whole charade is fucking pointless. I’m done pretending and I decide to own it. “Arlo’s my son, Arch.”

Dexter stares at me like I’m a stranger.

“Salem’s kid,” he says. “Her son, he’s yours? Are you sure?”

“But you’ve only been with her for…” Archer’s voice fades away as it finally hits him. “Shit. You guys were together before?”

“Barely. We hooked up once years ago.” I shrug. The draft blowing in isn’t enough to calm my temper. “She had Arlo. I never knew until we reconnected at The Cardinal.”

“Holy shit. You, a fucking dad.” Archer laughs dryly, rubbing his eyes.

“You beat me to it,” Dexter says miserably. “Cheating prick.”

“And now my son’s in the hospital. Because of her.” I shake my fists before I punch something. “I missed out on years of his life and Evelyn did her best to make sure I’d miss his future.”

“Patton—” Dexter starts.

“No. I don’t give a fuck whether you think it’s a bad idea or not,” I tell them, shoving my way outside. I need to breathe. It’s so cold my breath clouds in front of my face. “If she’d just stolen money or jewelry from us, whatever. I’d let the police handle it. But not this. This is too personal.”

Archer nods, the only other person who gets it when he’s a father himself.

“Okay, what’s your plan? You must have something in mind after we turned this place upside down to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Go.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I’m at the hospital by visiting hours the next morning, fueled by coffee and distilled rage.

It’s not as overwhelming as it was last night, which gives me time to think over everything.

Archer would be fucking proud.

As I approach Arlo’s bed, I flag down a nurse and ask her what the situation is. She looks tired as hell. Really, everyone in this hospital looks like they’ve been pulling sixteen-hour shifts—the staff shortages in medicine are real—but she gives me a warm, faded smile.

“He’s doing better,” she says. “The doctor wants to keep him over the next few days for observation, but after that, he should be free to head home.”

I don’t bother hiding my relief, the way my lungs heave with the weight of the world coming out.

He’ll be okay.

My son will come out of this, alive and well without any serious damage.

That also clears the way for me to track Evelyn Hibbing to the ends of the Earth and drag her into handcuffs.

As I head into the room, just like I did yesterday before everything came to a head, I find Arlo and Salem asleep. She’s curled up on one of those uncomfortable chairs, one leg tucked under her and the other wrapped around the chair leg.

In her sleep, she doesn’t look angry or bitter or afraid.

She looks more worn than the nurses and almost as pale as poor little Arlo. Her mouth is parted and it makes her look almost obscenely vulnerable.

Even though everything we said to each other echoes in the space around us like a stray bullet, I want to hold her. I want to banish the hurt on her face, lingering in her long eyelashes and the dark arches under her eyes.

You don’t have to run anymore, Salem.

Goddammit, trust me.

But I don’t say anything out loud.

I’m quiet so I don’t wake her, pulling up another chair by Arlo’s side. By the time I turn my attention to him, I notice he’s awake, his eyes half-open as he looks at me. The tube in his nose must itch like mad. He tries to scratch.

“Easy, buddy,” I whisper, leaning forward to take his hand. It’s small and chubby, and I’m grateful it still feels healthy enough, too. “How are you doing?”

“Patman… what happened?” He groans, glancing at his mother and back to me. “Where am I? I feel funny.”

“You’ll get better soon. I spoke to the doctor and he’s really impressed. You’re a strong kid and you’ll be out of here soon.” I lean forward, gently squeezing his fingers. “You had a little mishap with some food, but that’s over now. Your mom brought you in so you could get some help. I came to tell you about your superpower.”

“Superpower?” His eyes light up.

“Yeah. You’re braver than ten men combined. Basically a little lion. You just woke up and you’re not afraid of anything.” I smile hopefully.

His smile turns into a grin. “Brave like you? Like General Patton?”

I wince a little inside, but he’s too damn cute and groggy to correct.

“Exactly like that. Guys who drive tanks for a living don’t have half your courage.”

“Wow!” He nods, satisfied, resting his head back on the pillow. “I miss my tablet,” he mumbles.

I try not to laugh.

Kids are all the same, and there are times when they put adults to shame. Maybe because they haven’t been buried by other people’s crap yet.

It makes me smile as I smooth back the hair from his forehead. “You gave us all a scare though, you know.”

“Didn’t mean to.” His eyes fly open. “Oh, no. Mommy’s car. I didn’t mean to barf everywhere—”

“Hey, hey, shhhh. You were amazing, okay? I promise she’s not mad. Everyone’s so proud of you, little man.” I squeeze his hand. Salem hasn’t stirred, lost in her sleep over the whispers.

Fine.

I don’t want her to see me just yet.

I could use a little of his courage myself when I don’t want to face up to whatever our last conversation means.

“I don’t like the hospital.” Arlo wrinkles his nose. “It smells funny. Like before a bath with too much soap.”

“Yeah, these places are rough.”

“The bed feels hard too.”

“You’ll be back in your own bed soon,” I promise. “And once you’re better, I’ll take you somewhere warm and sunny, okay?”

His eyes light up, making him the most animated I’ve seen him so far today. “Like the beach? Do you think there will be dino shells?”

“Dino shells?”

“Like from dinosaurs.”

“Oh, you mean fossils?” I used to love dinosaurs when I was his age. Knowing Arlo loves them too makes me smile wider. “Sure. In fact, I bet I can bring you a dino shell soon. I can find you some real seashells too. How does that sound?”

“Awesome.” He yawns heavily.

This isn’t the time or place to tell Arlo I’m his dad, even though he’s still holding my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’ve held Colt’s hand a few times over the years, mostly when he was younger, but this feels different.

The kind of right that only comes from your own flesh and blood.

Shit, I need to leave before I lose it, and before I change my mind about leaving at all.

Salem can take it from here as soon as she wakes up. I’m certain she’ll do a better job of looking after Arlo than I can. She’s been there for so many years.

“Maybe we can put them in my aquarium, huh?” I say. “I think the fish would like a fossil or two.”

“And the seahorses!” he whispers.

“Yeah, those guys too. But right now, I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to focus on getting better and being good for your mom. You keep her company, Arlo.”

He frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Florida. Just for a few days,” I tell him, but he doesn’t look like he registers what I’ve said. His eyelids droop shut again, and he lets out another cat-like yawn. “I’ll be back real soon, okay?”

He doesn’t answer since he’s already out.

I give Salem one last glance and get up, beginning to walk away.

Only, I turn and retrace a few steps.

Gingerly, I rest my hands on her shoulders, kissing her on top of the head. She only stirs slightly without waking.

“Hold on, Lady Bug. I’m going to make sure no one ever tries to hurt Arlo again, and then I’ll come home and we’ll sort this out.”