Her Secret Life. Tara Taylor Quinn

from beatings by her abusive live-in boyfriend.

      In the end, she’d been one of their few failures at the Stand. She’d quit her counseling sessions, gone back to her boyfriend and drinking and, last they’d heard, had left the state with a fresh hospital record.

      That failure—the first Kacey had witnessed—had hit her hard. She and Michael had been talking about it one day last fall and she’d recognized that part of the reason she was having such a hard time understanding the woman’s choices was because they hit too close to home. Not the violence part, but the allure of the blur, as she’d called it. When you weren’t happy, even when it seemed like you had everything you ever wanted, you drank or partied to blur out the sadness. To cover up what you couldn’t figure out...

      Somehow from that conversation had come his offer to be her secret support system. He didn’t think she needed one at first. She wasn’t an alcoholic. Had no addiction problems. But she feared the allure of the blur would call her back.

      Or maybe it had been the allure of the spotlight—of being someone that everyone wanted on their invitation lists...

      “I can’t stay,” she told Michael now. “I just wanted to say hi. And see if you have anything new to tell me.”

      She didn’t like how that sounded. Like he was working for her. Like she’d stopped by because he was doing a job for her. “Mostly just to say hi.”

      She’d wanted to see him.

      He was her friend.

      “I’ve got nothing new,” he told her. “The only thing that showed up this morning was a photo from last night. And you look completely sober.”

      He turned his computer screen around so she could see.

      It wasn’t bad. She was smiling at Bo’s parents. His mother seemed delighted. She’d liked the woman. Quite a lot. She’d liked Bo’s brother, too. He was shy but smart. He wanted to go into politics and knew more about the state of the country than she’d ever hope to know. He was older than she’d thought from Bo’s description of him. Still in school meant college—finishing his senior year with a poli-sci major.

      But Bo’s dad...

      She looked away from the picture and sat down in the wooden chair in front of the scarred table that served as Michael’s desk at the Stand. She knew his company’s address and had driven by the building a few times. She’d bet the desk here wouldn’t be found in the basement of that place.

      “You got a second?” she asked him.

      “Of course.”

      “I... Last night...Bo’s father gave me the creeps.” She told him about the man’s glances, the way she’d caught him looking at her breasts. Every time he spoke to her his words had been completely innocuous, but there was an undercurrent that made her uneasy.

      “Did you talk to Bo about it?” Michael’s frown eased the tension she’d been feeling. He was taking her seriously.

      As she’d known he would.

      “I started to in the car on the way home,” she said. “But he interrupted and told me not to take offense at his father. Said he’s always been a big flirt but that it meant nothing. He said his dad flirts with old ladies and little girls equally. It’s just his way.”

      “Where are they from?”

      “Indiana.”

      “And they’re leaving today?”

      She loved that he remembered that she’d told him they were only in town the one night.

      “Yes.”

      “Then I guess you don’t have much to worry about,” he said.

      He was right. Bo wasn’t his father. And it wasn’t like Indiana was just around the corner.

      Nodding, she stood. When she noticed a tiredness about him, in his eyes, she sat back down. If she didn’t get her hair done, the evening would go on.

      People would be bound to notice—those in her circle always did, since looks were an important part of television work—but...the party would still happen.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing. I’d tell you if I found something.”

      “I’m not talking about me. Something’s bothering you.” She might barrel through life in such a way that she didn’t always notice the little things, but Michael was...Michael. She was different around him.

      In a good way.

      The way she was with Lacey.

      Yeah. The thought slid into place. Michael was like Lacey. He saw the real her. Treated her like the person she was inside.

      And he could calm the whirlwind that was her life.

      His shrug hurt her feelings.

      “Michael.” She set her bag down on the floor and crossed her arms.

      Her stance didn’t seem to affect him, so she waited, watching him.

      Nothing.

      Fine. She pulled her phone out of her purse. Pushed the speed dial for the salon and canceled her appointment.

      She’d missed the cancellation window and would have to pay for the appointment but didn’t give a whit.

      “You said you have time.”

      His chin bent slowly and came back up. An acknowledgment if not really a nod of agreement.

      “A friendship works both ways or it’s not a friendship,” she said. Now that she understood why he meant so much to her, she knew her role. It was the same with Lacey. Sometimes you had to push those used to caring for others to accept caring for themselves. You had to be diligent.

      To show them that they came first, too.

      She’d learned the lesson the hard way—had almost lost her other half because of it—and was never going to forget it.

      “I agree,” he said.

      She remembered something else.

      “You told me the other day that when we had time you’d tell me how I’m good for you.”

      Let him think it was still about her. That he was needed.

      She’d get him to see that if she confided in him, he needed to confide, too, or they weren’t really friends. That if he didn’t lean on her, she couldn’t lean on him anymore, either.

      She had this one.

      She also really wanted to hear what he thought he was getting out of their relationship. As far as she could see, it was pretty much nothing so far.

      Just like her sister had given and given and given and received so little in return all those years they’d been figuratively joined at the hip.

      Then Kacey had helped Lacey get the only thing she’d ever wanted. A life partner with whom she’d come first. And last, too.

      If not for Kacey’s pushiness, the pretty much outrageous way she’d maneuvered Lacey into getting Jem to add the room she wanted on to her home, Lacey would probably still be living in that house all alone.

      Albeit with a lot more visits from Kacey...

      Michael was staring at her.

      “You just said you’ve got a second,” she reminded again. “So what is it I do for you in this relationship?”

      “The truth is going to make me sound like someone I’m not,” he said, as though he’d revised his earlier assertion that he’d tell her.

      And while she wanted to know, getting him to confess was more a means to an end—the end being making him tell her what was bothering him.

      But