One year. That’s how long it’s been since childhood sweethearts Sully Graham and Cadence Gilbertson broke up, since one adoption and one out-of-state move turned their worlds upside down.
Suddenly, Cadence is back in New York City, but something’s different about her. The light in her eyes, the music in her laughter, the warmth in her smile—all of those things have entirely vanished. In their place stand the makings of a girl Sully can’t even begin to recognize, much less understand.
Still, despite the collective history of heartbreak between them, he’s convinced he can win her trust again, and he’s committed to proving the invincibility of their love no matter what it takes.
But Cadence is quietly harboring secrets of her own. Dark secrets. Ugly secrets. Secrets that could break a person. And though broken herself and unbearably lonely, she’s determined to protect Sully from her terrible, biting truths. Even if it means locking him out of her life forever.
The only problem is it seems her heart hasn’t quite received the memo. One glimpse of him is all it takes for her to trip into familiar (and, she’ll admit, addictive) feelings that threaten to all but consume her. Now her biggest fear is that her secrets will begin to slowly unravel one by one…long before Sully’s resolve ever does.
The Secrets We Kept is a moving story about first love, friendship, and forgiveness, and the enduring bonds that forever connect us and give us our strength.
EXCERPT:
Sully still remembered the first time that he saw Cadence.
It was a sweltering summer that year. Push-cart ice cream vendors roamed the
neighborhood blocks like soldiers on patrol, circling playgrounds and community
swimming pools. It was common to see people pop open fire hydrants like
champagne bottles, children dancing in the shoots of water as miniature
rainbows reflected off the asphalt.
Sully and his brother, twelve and ten years old at the time,
were living with the Petersons back then along with a tribe of foster siblings.
Ol’ Man Peterson was a Vietnam vet with PTSD and a short-fuse temper that
exploded so quickly, it was like his personality had a gas leak. Usually,
maintaining a thirty-foot distance from the man at all times was insurance
against his drunken rampages. His military pedigree had bred in him a
no-nonsense adherence to hard work and, where appropriate, hard discipline—both
of which were far less easy to escape.
The hard work in particular manifested in the Peterson
prison as an endless checklist of chores (otherwise known as “slave labor” in
the Spencer Graham lexicon), the completion or lack thereof of which determined
whether or not you ate dinner that night. Additionally, each child had to
fulfill their assigned task in accordance with certain standards, and as Ol’
Man Peterson was an uncompromising perfectionist, one chore could go through
three to five rounds before the man extended a grunt of approval.
The afternoon Cadence arrived, Sully and Spencer were
attached to yard work. While the Peterson walk-up sat only a few yards from the
curb, which meant there barely existed a lawn between the chain-link fence and
the front door, Ol’ Man Peterson preferred his grass cut to an exact height. It
was taking painstaking precision to perfect his science.
Spencer lay on his stomach with a see-through ruler to
measure the blades of grass. “I think you cut this side of the walkway too
short.”
Sully rested a broom atop his shoulders, arms draping over
it like a scarecrow. “It’s way too hot to even care, dude.”
“I care because I want to see the new Adam Sandler, movie
and I’m not about to get grounded for another weekend.”
“How many times have I been grounded because of you?”
Spencer stood. “Whatever. I’m taking over sweeping duty.” He
stretched out a hand to receive the broom, but Sully’s gaze had already shifted
to a royal blue SUV parking alongside the curb. A woman emerged from the
driver’s side. She came around to open the backseat door closest to the
Peterson home. Two ballet flats appeared from under the door, reaching for the
street. When the woman closed the door, a girl who looked to be Sully’s age or
slightly younger stood with her, hands bracketed to the straps of her backpack
and her bottom lip caught softly under her front teeth.
Spencer snapped in Sully’s face. “Hellooo? Earth to
Sully.” Sully nodded toward the two, and when Spencer turned and saw them, he
said, “Uh oh. Another casualty.”
The woman, clearly the girl’s caseworker, greeted the boys
with a cheery “working hard?” before continuing up the walkway with her charge.
Sully waited for the girl to look his way, and when she finally did, he offered
her a soft, barely-there smile by way of hello. Part greeting, part
commiseration. She instantly looked away.
They discovered her name only because she was sharing a
bunk-bed with their friend Novah. “Cadence Livingston,” she told them. “She’s
been in the system for a few years. She doesn’t talk much. Or at all. Those are
the only things I was able to get from her. She’s probably halfway to being a
mute.”
“I wish Spencer was a mute,” Sully muttered.
“Ha ha,” Spencer said. “You’re so funny. Absolutely
hilarious. How did I get so lucky to have a brother like you?” Then he excused
himself to see about fixing the eyesore Sully had made of the front lawn and
left Sully fixated on the enigma of the quiet and elusive Cadence Livingston.
