Breaking the Bro Code (12 page)

‘You want me to stop?’

‘I want you to do both, Ellie.’ He backed her up until her arse pressed against the cool glass of the hotel window. ‘Talking
and
kissing.’

‘But I’m so much better at kissing.’ She demonstrated by working her way back to his mouth, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth and grinding against him.

‘I need more than kissing.’

His lips came down to the crook of her neck, sucking at the delicate hollow. Her skin burned as though she were about to go up in flames. He tore at the shirt, not even bothering to undo the buttons, instead ripping it open with passionate force. His hands found her breasts and she let her head loll back against the window. His lips took one of her nipples, the pressure sending heat spiralling down to her centre.

‘I can’t give you both, Col.’ Her breathing came fast and heavy as his hands dipped to her shorts. ‘That’s not how I am.’

ELEVEN

After another night
with Elise Johnson in his bed, Col was no closer to breaking through to her. Rather than do the right thing, he’d allowed himself to give in to the insatiable desire that took hold whenever she was near. He was cheating her and he was cheating himself.

He tilted his head to the side and his neck muscles protested. He’d slept at a funny angle, not wanting to move or disturb Elise as she’d clung to him in the middle of the night. He didn’t want to risk her shifting away from him when this was likely the last time he’d ever hold her in his arms.

Dammit.
Thumping a fist down on the couch, he gritted his teeth. He would have to move on. He would have to go home, throw himself back into his work and give up on the fantasy that he could have it all. He couldn’t have Elise, and without her there was no point trying to be with anyone else—at least not in any permanent sense.

There were plenty of men who chose the bachelor lifestyle, so he should be able to work it out. The thought sounded hollow in his head. Who was he kidding? He loved Elise, he had done ever since he was old enough to understand what it meant to care for another person...perhaps even before that. As kids they’d always had a special bond. He’d looked after her when her parents worked late, watching while she practised her dance routines in the lounge room of the Johnson home but always being careful that Rich didn’t catch him.

Rich. That was another great big mess he’d made. They’d been best friends since they were in kindergarten and now Rich didn’t trust him at all. He should have come clean about his feelings for Elise, sought his blessing like a grown-up instead of sleeping with her behind his back. Now he’d lost them both; he’d lost his whole surrogate family.

Col’s black suit hung over the chair at the dining table and with it a clean black shirt and black tie. He’d swelter in the summer heat, but there was a strong traditionalist streak in him that wouldn’t accept anything but all black to be worn to a funeral...even if he would not be mourning the death of the person being buried.
What a mess.

‘Morning.’ Elise shuffled from the bedroom, her hair sticking out in all directions like some weird imitation of a lion’s mane.

She was wearing one of his T-shirts and it swam on her, obscuring her lovely figure with the exception of her lean dancer’s legs. A lump lodged in his throat. He wanted to confess everything to her, his feelings, the desires he had about being with her...but there was no point. Even as he’d held her in his arms last night he knew it had to end. He had to be cruel to be kind. Theirs was a cord that needed to be cut and he had to be strong enough to do it.

‘I need to head home,’ she said, leaning against the side of the couch opposite him.

Figured—she was going to make it easy for him after all. He should have been relieved but her words scythed through him with an intensity that stole his breath. ‘Fine.’

‘I can’t exactly go to a funeral in a T-shirt, now, can I?’ She smiled softly.

He did a double take. ‘What?’

‘Your dad’s funeral.’ She tilted her head, brows furrowed. ‘I thought it was today.’

‘It is, but I didn’t think you were coming.’

‘I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I left you to go on your own, now, would I?’

Friend.
He almost let out the bitter laugh that rang in his head. Of course she wanted to comfort him as a friend...nothing more.

‘I don’t want you to come to the funeral.’

‘Why not?’ She planted her hands on her hips.

‘He doesn’t deserve to have you there, Ellie.’ Col stood up and walked to the dining table where his outfit was laid out.

‘I’m not going for him. I’m going for you.’

Col pulled on his shirt, taking his time to do the buttons up. He stepped into the trousers of the suit and immediately felt restricted. He hated wearing a suit and tie; it made him feel chained, controlled. But he was unlikely to feel comfortable at any part of today anyway. The suit was going to be the least of his discomfort.

‘I said I’m going for you, Col.’ She said his name emphatically. ‘I care about you.’

He paused and looked at her, searching her face for any sign that she might be about to open up. She looked as though she was about to say something but her mouth snapped shut.

‘How do you care about me? Do you care about me like a brother, a friend...?’

Her breath hitched but she said nothing. It was déjà vu all over again: he was asking her to clarify how she felt about him and she was staying silent. Did she feel anything at all for him beyond what she felt for her family? Or was he just a close friend who she happened to have slept with?

‘
How?
I need to know.’

‘Why are you doing this, Col?’ She shook her head, turning away from him. ‘You know I’m not good at this.’

‘Because I deserve to know.’ He swallowed and the words spilled forth as if something inside had broken and everything he’d ever felt was suddenly accessible and free flowing. ‘I love you, Ellie, and I can’t take not knowing if you love me back.’

She turned to him, face pale, and for the first time he’d seen her beautiful features twisted into anguish. He’d seen behind her mask; he’d pushed her until she’d shown him something real. In a second her face was stoic again, her lips pressed together as she gathered herself.

‘I love you as a friend, Col. That’s all I can give and I don’t want to promise you more.’

He reached for his tie and slipped it around his neck, tightening it like a noose. At least now he knew, he could move on with his life and put the Johnson family behind him for good.

‘It’s best if you leave now.’

‘Col—’

‘I’ll call downstairs and order you a taxi.’

He continued dressing himself, bending down to pull on his dress socks and a pair of expensive leather dress shoes he hardly ever wore. She stood there for a moment, rooted to the ground as if in silent protest. But, as usual, no words came. The loss of her burned before she’d even vacated his hotel room. Looked as if he would be grieving today after all.

He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt while watching her from the corner of his eye. Was it his imagination or did a tear pool in her eye. No, impossible. Elise Johnson didn’t do tears.

* * *

By the time the taxi dropped Elise off she was fuming. After the initial shock of finding out that Col loved her had worn off, she was downright miffed. He’d known what her upbringing was like—he’d been there for half of it! Didn’t he know that throwing your emotions out there for the world to see was dangerous? Wasn’t that the very reason he’d been so poorly treated by his father...because the man hadn’t been able to control his emotions?

Stomping up to the front door, she cursed under her breath. What was he thinking coming out and telling her that he loved her? She flung the front door open and let out a frustrated huff.

‘Ellie?’

Her mother’s voice wafted through the house along with the scent of something baking in the oven. The scent hit her with force; she knew it from a very long time ago. Anzac cookies—her mother was baking the oaty, golden syrupy treats of her childhood.

‘Mum? What’s going on?’

She came through to the kitchen to find her mother standing at the sink wearing her pink and white striped apron. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail; her eyes looked clearer than their usual bloodshot state. Was that humming she could hear?

‘I know we usually go out for our weekly morning tea but I had a sudden urge to bake.’ Her mother’s voice was soft, hopeful.

‘That’s great. I always loved your Anzac cookies.’ She dropped her bag onto the breakfast bar and hovered at the edge of the kitchen.

‘Tea?’ Her mother held up the kettle and Elise nodded.

‘What’s brought all this on?’ Something had definitely shifted. It had been years since her mother had baked. It seemed like eons since she’d smiled.

Darlene drew a deep breath. ‘I’ve started seeing someone.’

A rock hardened in the pit of Elise’s stomach. How was it possible her mother had started seeing someone when she never left the house? Had she met some creep online? Myriad scenarios swirled in her mind.

‘Not like
that
,’ Darlene said. ‘I’ve started seeing a psychologist, someone who specialises in treating members of the police force...ex-members in my case.’

‘But I thought you hated talking about what happened to Dad.’

Her mother had not only shunned the court-appointed psychologist after her Internal Affairs hearing, but she’d avoided every offer of help from the police chief, her colleagues, family and friends. Eventually the offers dried up and she even managed to drive her own son away. Elise had stuck by her, but they had not once discussed the events that led to her father’s death.

‘It’s uncomfortable for me, yes.’ Darlene nodded. ‘But I’m sick of feeling like this. Every day is a struggle and I think after five years it’s about time I got back on my feet.’

Elise swallowed, a strange sensation ebbing through her. This was the most productive thing her mother had ever said. Hope blossomed in Elise’s chest. Maybe she could be saved.

‘How many sessions have you had?’

‘Only four, but I’m going every week.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

The oven timer beeped and Darlene went to the oven, pulling out the tray of golden cookies and placing them on a cutting board. She untied the back of her apron and hung it on the hook next to the stove. Elise watched her slow, precise movements.

‘Why, Mum?’

Darlene came over to her and enveloped her in a hug. Her bony arms wrapped around Elise with the urgency of someone who hadn’t been held in a long time. After a moment of stunned immobility, Elise hugged her back. When
was
the last time they hugged?

‘I was worried I wouldn’t do well and I didn’t want to fail you again. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried.’

‘Really?’ Elise pulled back, surprised.

‘I tried about a year after...’ She trailed off. ‘Then again about twelve months ago. But I quit after two sessions. I was worried this time would be the same.’

‘And?’

‘I hope it’s going to be different this time. I still have down days, but the sessions give me some relief.’ Darlene stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘I know your father and I weren’t very demonstrative while you and Rich were growing up but we loved you both very much. We wanted you to be strong and independent... I guess we thought that by being so tough on you it would make you that way.’

Tears pricked in Elise’s eyes and out of instinct she blinked furiously to make them go away. It was the closest she’d come to crying in...she couldn’t even remember how long.

‘I regret not being more open with you and Rich,’ Darlene continued. ‘But it’s not too late to start, is it?’

‘No, it’s not too late.’ Elise looked into the grey eyes that were identical to her own. ‘I’m so glad you’re getting help.’

‘Me too, baby. It’s taken me a long time but I’ve realised that sometimes we need another person to help us change for the better.’

Elise’s mind flickered to Col and his stubborn way of prodding her with questions. She’d resented him this morning, asking her to open up, to put herself way out of her comfort zone. He’d always done that, always challenged her, teased her, fought for her. She frowned.

‘What’s wrong? Have I upset you?’ Darlene’s concern brought her back to the present.

‘It’s nothing.’ She plastered a bright smile on her face before she realised the irony of the situation. Here her mother was, after all the years, opening up and putting herself out there while Elise acted the same way she always did. ‘Actually, there is something.’

Darlene released her, put a few cookies on a plate and brought it with the teapot to the kitchen table, where fresh irises sat in a fluted vase. Her mother must have brought them with her. Elise grabbed two teacups from the cupboard.

‘Tell me.’

‘Col is back in Australia at the moment.’

Darlene nodded. ‘Yes, I know that.’

Elise’s eyebrows shot up. ‘How?’

‘I got a call from your brother last night.’

Ah. Elise poured the tea and waited for her mother to continue.

‘I gave him a good talking-to. He had no right to interfere with you and Col. That boy was always infatuated by you, you know.’

‘Really?’

‘Rich came to me when we took him in, said he was worried about Col being around you. But I trusted him. His father might have been a drunk but I know a good soul when I see one. Couldn’t have been a police officer for so long without being able to pick the bad eggs from the good.’ She smiled. ‘He cared about you very much, always stuck up for you when you and your brother fought.’

‘He did, didn’t he?’ For once a happy memory came to her, not the one of Col with bruises but the times that he’d stepped between her and Rich when an argument sprouted. He was always her protector.

‘And he always used to take you to your ballet lessons. He claimed it was because he wanted to pitch in, but I knew it was more than that.’ She sipped her tea. ‘Why is he here?’

‘Arthur’s funeral is today.’

‘And you’re not going?’ The old Darlene was back for a moment, all narrowed brows and pursed lips.

‘I wanted to go but he said Arthur didn’t deserve to have me there.’ She swallowed. ‘And I think I upset him.’

‘How?’

‘He told me he loved me.’ She swiped a cookie, eager for something to distract her from the foreign feelings swirling. Her voice sounded strange, high pitched and unnatural. Perhaps this was what it sounded like to open up to someone.

‘And...’

‘And I told him I couldn’t give him what he wanted.’

‘Do you love him?’

The question rendered her mute. Self-protection was her instinct, her go-to move. But the ache in her chest was building; the pressure from holding her feelings in a tight, unreachable bundle was getting too much to bear.

‘Love is not as confusing as people make it out to be.’ Darlene gave a small smile.

Elise let out a shaky breath and traced the floral pattern of her china teacup with her finger. ‘It’s scary.’