Dirty Little Secrets

“Ouch! Shit!”I jumped back from the car and flapped my hand around. My finger stung like hell—and when I looked at it, I saw why. My nail had broken lifting a suitcase. Just another reason why coming back to Santa Monica was a mistake. If I’d stayed in Charlotte, at least all ten of my nails would still be intact.I sucked on my finger to soothe the sting and glanced through the back window of the car. Milka was still asleep, thankfully. If she was awake and caught me cussing there, she’d be shouting, “Mama! Bad!” and following it up with a few excited rounds of the bad word.I breathed a sigh of relief and moved back to the trunk. I gave the offending suitcase one last tug and it flied out of the car. The gravel crunched as it hit the floor, and I jumped to the side. I pulled the envelope the lawyer gave me out of the glove box and dug for the key. I found it hiding between the creased papers, and with another glance at Mila in the backseat, I walked to the front door.I hesitated,

She tucked her ombré hair behind her ear. “You told Tina she wasn’t.”“I didn’t tell Tina a damn thing.” I opened my car door and got in, starting it before she could speak again.There was no way I could hold a conversation with her and not want to break down. I knew I wouldn’t get away with this trip to Santa Monica unscathed—but I thought I might be able to make it longer than a few hours without seeing the girl I spent my life attached to, my best friend.Without seeing his family. Milka’s family.I drove out of the parking lot and towards the house. I couldn’t think of it as mine yet. I didn’t know what I was doing with it yet. If I could move it to Charlotte, it would be perfect. . . . But I couldn’t. The house was here, and . . .I shook my head. I was not doing this today. There was plenty of time to make that decision. Right now, I had to focus on getting through today. On getting through this fucked-up situation I caused.I killed the engine in the driveway and got out as Le

I trudged forward with the knowledge she was really never coming back. That she was staying wherever the hell she was, and I’ll probably never find her again no matter how hard I try.She was gone. I should have accepted that two and a half years ago, but every time I came home I half-hoped she’ll be here, like a sad fucking kid hoping his lost dog would be home when he gets back from school.Home came into view with the gentle sound of waves crashing. Salty air overcame woodland as we moved closer to the sprawling property, expanded after we “made it.” I picked up the pace. Getting to the place I loved in this fucking town I hated was my priority. Being around my crazy-as-fuck family.Leah was waiting on the back porch, and the second she saw us, she jumped and clapped her hands over her mouth so she didn’t shout out. I guess she got the memo about the back-way homecoming, too.She hugged us, one by one, her hold on me lingering longer than on the others. The babies of the family, we

Leah grunted in response, and I snatched the controller up and turned off the television. “No! No! No! Conor! No!” Milka screeched, waving her arms frantically. “Noooo!” I covered my eyes with my hand briefly. “Baby girl, you can dance later, okay?” “No! Conor now! Noooow!” Leah coughed. My head snapped around to her, and the second our eyes met, I knew she had just gotten the confirmation she was looking for. I took a deep breath and shook my head, telling her no, we’re still not talking, and grabbed Milka’s dolly. “Come on. Into the stroller.” She continued, screaming about “Conor now! Conor now, Mama!” I strapped her in and did a quick check of her bag to make sure I had everything I needed. Leah followed us out of the door and I locked it behind us. The sun was getting hot above us, a beacon of brightness in a clear blue sky. For the first time in a long time, the view was unencumbered by skyscrapers and high-rises. It was pure and free and completely beautiful. I breathed

He snorted and left me to it on the deck, ever the caring older brother. Reminded me not to deal with his health care when he was shitting in adult diapers.I dragged my eyes from the door and toward the beach. Since I left, touring across America, I thought the first thing I’d do when I got home was sit on the beach and take in the fierce rush of the white foam against the beach, the echoing crash of the waves against the sand.I thought I would breathe it in, the scent of home. Of the rich, enticing aroma of Mama’s cooking mixing with the saltiness of the sea. I thought I would relish it, that I’d close my eyes and relax as the stress of the tour washed out of me.I thought I’d stand in the farm-style kitchen, laughing with my family. That I’d sit out there on the deck with my sister and get all the gossip. That Mom would need another spice rack put up in the kitchen or a bookshelf in Dad’s office.I thought wrong.I got up to grabbed another beer and twirled the bottle, resting my