Secrets We Keep (Thistle Cove 1)

“Maybe, but obviously it didn’t have anything to do with her death. The police have closed the case.”

“It’s proof she was in a bad place and acting out with risky behavior.”

Risky and empowering. Taboo. It’s like all the things in those Eden books we were obsessed with. Maybe Rose neve

r stopped craving that kind of life, and somewhere along the way it shifted from fantasy into something real.

I look into the green eyes of the boy next to me. The boy I’ve loved forever. I don’t need fantasy. I need him, and crazily, I think I may finally have a shot.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now,” he says, brushing a piece of hair off my cheek, “but I do have a question.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes dart down to my mouth.

“Can I kiss you?”

I nod, and he takes my face in his hands, holding my eye for a long beat before he bends, brushing his lips across mine. It’s sweet, gentle, careful…not the manic passion we’d shared on Rose’s bed. Which wasn’t bad. It was great really, but it’s not the first kiss from Finn that I’d dreamed of for years. This one though... I fall even harder for him as he deepens it, offering it as a promise. A kiss full of hope. A kiss between a boy and a girl with nothing holding them back, discovering one another not for the first time, and definitely not the last.

37

Kenley

The door of the cottage is open when I get there, a wisp of smoke curling toward the sky. I stick my head in and frown.

“You started without me?”

“You were late, babe,” Ezra says, shifting over on the couch. “Don’t worry, we saved you some.”

Sitting on the small table is the box Ezra keeps his stash in. It’s empty, the final joint burning in between his fingers. Rose’s memorial service is tomorrow and we all agreed it was the perfect opportunity to get high one last time. From now on, no more drugs.

The memorial service is tomorrow, which we’ll all go to, but the four of us felt the need to say our own goodbye to Rose, and we decided this was the perfect place.

“When I first moved here,” Ezra says, staring down at the joint, “Rose was the first person—kid—I met. My parents' marriage was already rocky—always had been—and they thought maybe moving back to Thistle Cove would reignite their relationship or something. Our dads were obviously friends in high school, so it made sense that they invited us over when we moved here. Rose had a party and introduced me to all of you.”

“I remember that day,” I say, “it’s rare when someone new moves to town. We were excited.”

He looks at each of us, eyes lingering on mine. “Our friendship didn’t last, well, other than as a business relationship. Without you guys holding us together, and both of us struggling with our own issues, there wasn’t much there. But I owe her for introducing you all to me way back then, otherwise I don’t think we’d all be here right now.”

He takes a drag and passes the joint to Ozzy.

“Rose and I didn’t always get along. I thought she was a princess. She thought I was a know it all jerk.” He tugs at his cap. “We were both right. There’s no universe where Rose and I would be good friends, but, last spring we did have a run in.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Gimple wanted me to submit my creative writing essay for the summer camp that I wanted to go to. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t convinced it was good enough—not to compete with all those other kids from all over the state. I was at the post office, envelope in hand, paralyzed with insecurity. That’s when Rose walked in. She had a stack of flyers for her father’s campaign she was there to mail. She looked at me with and said in a snotty voice, ‘What are you doing, loser?’”

Ezra shakes his head, and Finn just looks annoyed.

“What did you do?” I ask.

“I said, ‘I’m trying to decide if I should send this story in, so I can spend the summer away from Thistle Cove. Thank you for making that decision for me.’ And shoved the envelope in the slot.” He takes a drag on the joint, exhales and says, “I figured if I didn’t have to see her all summer, then it would be worth it.”

“That’s a terrible story, Ozzy,” I say. “And I believe every word of it.”

He hands the half-burned joint to Finn, who stares at it for a moment. His eyes flick to mine, and I reach out and take his hand. “Rose was everything to me for a long time. We went through a lot of ‘firsts,’ you know. But somewhere along the way she stopped being my friend and just became a ‘thing.’ In my life. An accessory, or something.” He sighs. “In the end, I’ll miss Rose, my friend.”

It’s a nice sentiment. It leaves out a lot, but Finn will have to mourn the loss of Rose in a whole different way than the rest of us. I’m just glad he’s here with us and not dealing with the weight of it on his own.

It’s my turn, and the joint passes between us. I’ve spent years dealing with my emotions about Rose. Everything from sadness, to anger, to pettiness, to loss. I’ve already mourned my friendship with her, but this is different, I’m actually mourning the person herself.