Dirty Little Secret(48)

Just the thought of Sara Beth’s father made her tremble harder than the fire-and-brimstone preachers that used to visit her parents’ church at revival time. “No, he’s not.”

“This house is just a product of their love for one another,” Sam said. “Neither of them had any siblings, so this is where they’ve built their ‘real’ family. Here they are brother and sister, even though the world sees them as a couple. It’s no different than me sharing an apartment with my brother, really.” Sam shrugged again, and Cailin had the feeling she did that a lot here, as if unconsciously forcing the situation to roll off her back. “When you look at it that way, it gets easier to handle. Knowing that when they touch, it’s platonic, not sexual. Sara Beth confessed to me once that they’d tried to…um…have sex.” She quirked a brow as if waiting for Cailin to blow up. For some reason Cailin didn’t see the need, especially when Sam smirked. “She said it was pretty bad when neither one of them could get excited—a double disaster, she called it.”

Cailin grinned at the image too.

Sam’s tone sobered. “I admire them both. Sara Beth—she’s extraordinary. The things that man has put her through… And yet she’s present, she’s right there, wholeheartedly, in every moment.”

“You love her,” Cailin murmured.

“Yes, just like you do Alex.”

The words jolted her. “I—”

Nothing else came out. Loving Alex was the only thing she knew with certainty. Nothing she’d ever felt in her life had been like this. But something held her back. Committing to a man—and admitting she loved him was a commitment—was scary enough. Committing to a married man—that was terrifying. What her heart knew and her mouth could say wrangled in her throat, each wanting the upper hand. Neither won.

Sam reached out and patted Cailin’s hands as they twisted in her lap. “I know the feeling.” Standing, she slapped her jean-clad thighs. “And now, you better get back down there before someone notices your extended absence.”

With a deep sigh, Cailin agreed. But when she reached the doorway, she turned back to face the woman trailing her. Her heart thumped painfully. Not knowing what to say, she stood for a moment, gripping the door frame. Finally she went with, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, giving Cailin a hug. “Anytime.” She headed into the hall and disappeared into Sara Beth’s room.

An hour later, guests began to filter out the front door. Cailin was helping Sara Beth clean up when Alex stopped behind her. “Going straight home?” he asked in a rough whisper.

“Yeah.” She wiped a hand across her damp brow. “I’m tired.”

“Okay.” He ducked his chin. White teeth worked his bottom lip, a sure sign something was on his mind. Cailin waited, knowing he’d get it out when he was ready.

She went back to stacking cups. When she stood, Alex finally said, “I’ll be over in a little while.”

A frisson of conflicting emotions zipped through her body. “What? But I thought…”

The bitter smile didn’t reach Alex’s eyes. “I’ve been given permission to have my cake and eat it too, so to speak.”

Cailin’s stomach churned at the implications. “John?”

He nodded.

Horror raised the volume of her voice. “He’s her”—Alex’s abrupt slash of a hand made her lower the volume to a raspy whisper—“her father. God, Alex. That’s…” What the hell did she say to that? She’d thought her parents were bad for cutting her off when she’d divorced, but this—

“Not for her to know,” he finished with an arch look.

Cailin agreed hastily. No way would she hurt her friend by even hinting at such a thing.

“Cailin.”

She looked up, seeing the strain on Alex’s face. The need to touch him, to soothe that hurt, clenched in her gut. “Come.”

Pain stared out of his eyes, and though she loved that he wasn’t the silent type, that he didn’t hide his emotions from her, she hated seeing it. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Just come,” she replied. Hurrying toward the downstairs kitchen was the only thing that kept her hands off him.





Chapter Twelve

Alex wanted desperately to close his eyes to the ugly reality that was his life, but that was difficult to do when he was trying to see in the dark. The step up to Cailin’s porch almost tripped him, but he caught himself at the last minute. The need to see her was like craving a drug—it made his hands shake, fogged his vision, created a skip in his heartbeat that had no relation to the pleasant stutter most people associated with love. This wasn’t pleasant; it wasn’t even really love, not right at the moment. It was simple, painful, overpowering need. No one, nothing else could cleanse the emotions tearing him up inside.