So Now You're Back (27 page)

She had no idea what he was saying any more. Was he talking about his mother? The one who was dead? She didn't dare look up, not wanting to see the disgust in his face.

‘I'm sorry,' she whimpered, wishing she could just die. ‘You're right.' She gulped down the sob. Scrubbed the tears off her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She examined the lawn between her running shoes. Newly cut, the offcuts
decayed in rows of brown against the living green, the earthy smell masked by the aroma of dried grass and diesel fumes.

She wrapped her arms around her midriff in a vain attempt to fold in on herself and hold in the shame.

‘Liam cheated on me. Aldo hates me. Even my best friend thinks I'm a waste of space.'
And now you do, too.
‘I know, you're right. I totally deserve it, for being such a selfish, immature bitch.'

Trey stared at Lizzie's neck, the bumps of her vertebrae clearly defined. The delicate curve of her shoulder blades. So fragile, so vulnerable. A few wisps of hair clung to the back of her neck, which shuddered with the silent sobs she was trying so hard to suppress.

Way to go, you bastard. Look what you've done.

He stood in a daze, the crippling fury seeping out of his pores, and leaving nothing but hollow, weary shock.

How was any of this her fault? His mother's illness? The long agonising wait for her to stop struggling and just die? The crippling guilt that hit every time he arrived at the hospice with the hope Barry, the head nurse, would tell him it was over, and she was gone? It wasn't even entirely Lizzie's fault she'd followed him.

He'd enjoyed flirting with her since they'd made the cupcakes for Aldo's bake sale. Adored the bright, sexy banter. Become addicted to the thrill of just being around her.

He'd used her to escape the hopelessness, the futile anger, the smothering grief of watching his mother die. All he wanted to do right now was bury his nose against her hairline and breathe in the delicious scent of her. The summery shampoo, the spicy scent of patchouli.

His legs trembled, his knees going watery, as his pulse
throbbed painfully in his ears, blocking out the sounds around him.

He sat in the deck chair next to her, let the canvas sling cup his body and rested his head on the wooden strut of the chair back. ‘Sorry I shouted at you.'

‘That's OK.' The murmured response was thick with unshed tears. ‘I totally deserved it.'

He placed his palm on the slope of her back, patted her clumsily. ‘No, you didn't.'

Good job, Carson. Her mum said she was fragile. She's a lot more fragile now, you wanker.

‘You're right, I'm not a nice person and I'm really immature. I can see that now.'

She hadn't looked at him, her head still bent, her bum perched uncomfortably on the edge of the deck chair as she stared at her feet, as if she were counting the blades of grass between her shoes.

He forced himself out of the chair and knelt down in the grass in front of her.

Her chin lifted, the surprise in her eyes tempered by confusion. Her cheeks were red from her tears, the dusting of freckles across her nose even more pronounced without the benefit of make-up.

He clasped her hands between his, rubbed the icy skin.

‘Trey, what are you doing?'

As her wary gaze searched his face, it occurred to him, how much he had come to love just looking at her. Those intelligent blue eyes, so expressive, so open. The soft pink flesh of her collarbone pebbled with goosebumps despite the warm day. The wide mouth, so smart and arsey one minute, so guarded and unsure the next.

She made such a vital contrast to his mother, whose thin, blotchy skin was now tinged an unhealthy yellow. Whose
gaunt features had become all but unrecognisable. Whose opaque eyes saw nothing.

But it was much more than that. Lizzie didn't only symbolise life and youth and vitality; she symbolised freedom and challenge and excitement. She was complicated and fascinating and unique. And he'd treated her like shit.

Which put him in league with her crappy friends and that arsehole she'd dated.

‘I'm trying to warm you up a bit,' he said. ‘Your fingers are freezing. How can you be so cold when it's such a hot day?'

The blush fired across her cheeks and she tugged her hands loose. ‘Why are you being nice to me? When I've been such a bitch?'

She sounded genuinely confused. And kind of concerned for his sanity.

Jesus, she had no idea of her worth. Of how much he liked hanging out with her. Maybe it was about time he told her the truth. Because the hot-and-cold routine hadn't worked out so well. For either of them.

‘You're not a bitch. And you're not wrong. I lied.' He brushed his thumb under her eye, the puffy skin damp. ‘I'm sorry I made you cry. It's been kind of a shit day. I wasn't expecting to see you.'

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, making the loose fabric droop at the neck to reveal the lacy strap of her vest top. Adrenaline shot through him.

‘What did you lie about?' she asked.

‘I
did
want to kiss you in the pantry yesterday. And it wasn't the first time.'

‘Oh, OK.' He couldn't tell if she was pleased. ‘Are you sure? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?'

‘No, I'm not just saying it. I thought you could tell.'

‘I thought maybe I'd made a mistake,' she countered. ‘Usually when guys want to, they don't hold back.'

‘Guys like your ex, you mean?'

The blush burned hotter. ‘I suppose.'

‘Did he cheat on you a lot?'

‘Probably.' She shrugged, and the baggy sweatshirt slipped further to reveal one slim shoulder. ‘He got bored with me. He said I was always whining and I didn't want to do him enough.'

His jaw tightened. The anger real again.

No shit? I wonder why?

‘The more I hear about that prick,' he said, ‘the more I wish I could give him a good kicking.' The world was full of wankers like Lizzie's ex, who thought getting sex whenever they wanted it was their due. It wasn't Lizzie's fault she'd fallen for one. Those guys always had lots of moves to excuse their shitty behaviour.

‘It wouldn't be much of a contest. You're a lot bigger than he is.' She looked away, but he was pleased to see the small smile. Good to know she wasn't still hung up on the little turd.

Leaning onto his knees, he tugged the sweatshirt back up over her shoulder to hide the strappy top. Her gaze shot to his, no longer demure. No longer devastated, either.

OK, then.

He stood, the look in her eyes stirring stuff that shouldn't be stirred. ‘Do you mind if I sit next to you for a while?' he said.

‘Don't be silly, you don't have to ask.'

He nodded and sat. Closing his eyes, he let the weariness intrude. He absorbed the quiet, disturbed only by the flutter of some nearby pigeons, the ripple of water against the
paved edge of the lake, the distant shout of a mother calling her child—and the watchful presence of the girl beside him.

He came to sit here most days. The park air a welcome break from the sweet cloying scent of the morphine drip, the vague undertones of bleach and decaying flowers in the hospice. And all those feelings he couldn't always control.

Normally, he liked the silence, the emptiness.

But it was nice to have Lizzie beside him now; it made him feel less alone.

‘Could I ask you something, Trey?'

Seeing her earnest expression, he knew what she was going to ask. But he nodded anyway. Because he didn't want her to leave. Not yet.

‘Who is it you're visiting in the hospice?'

‘My mum.'

He saw surprise. Then distress. Then confusion. All plainly revealed on her face. He steeled himself for the obvious next question.

‘Why did you tell me she'd died?'

‘Habit, I guess. She's been sick for a long time. And sometimes it's easier not to bother telling people. They tend to think you're either a charity case or a martyr. I hate that, because I'm neither.'

She didn't challenge him. ‘What's wrong with her?'

‘She has primary progressive MS. She's had it for ten years.' He recited the medical details that had been his life for so long, but that he'd never shared with anyone unless he had to. She listened patiently, without interrupting. And, for once, he didn't feel the need to hide the truth.

‘I used to be able to look after her at home. But she had to move to the hospice four months ago because she needed round-the-clock care. I thought it would be quick once she was there. That's what the doctors said. But it hasn't been.'

He could hear the resentment in his tone and wondered if she could hear it, too.

‘Does my mum know about her?' she asked.

He studied her face, trying to assess her mood. Would she rat on him? He didn't think so. He'd seen a side of her this past week that was nothing like the spoilt drama queen he'd accused her of being. But could he risk it?

‘No,' he said at last, deciding he couldn't lie to her. Not again. ‘I figured there was no way she'd give me the job if she knew I had all this going on,' he added in his defence. But it still came out sounding dishonest. ‘I really wanted the job. I like Aldo. He's a nice kid. And …' He paused. He didn't want to sound weird, or too needy. ‘And it was nice being part of a normal family for a change. Even if I was only an employee.'

Lizzie smiled, impossibly touched by his honesty. ‘You think we're a normal family?'

The slow confidential tilt of his lips tugged at her stomach muscles. ‘Normal's relative.'

‘Well, normal or not, you probably misjudged my mum. She would still have wanted you for the job. You're brilliant with Aldo.' For the first time, she didn't feel remotely bitter about that.

‘It's funny to hear you stick up for your mum.' Her sense of achievement faltered. ‘You're always so down on her.'

‘I know. I feel kind of ashamed of that now.'

How spoilt must she have looked to him over the past few months? When his own mother was dying, and she hadn't been able to stop having a go at hers?

She stifled the thought.

No more pity parties.

‘Is that why you didn't kiss me? Because you were
worried my mum would find out? And sack you?' How come she'd dismissed that possibility so easily? Showed how much attention she paid.

Trey was dedicated and conscientious. And mature. And so responsible.

Which was one of the things she found so sexy about him.

‘That was one of the reasons,' he said.

‘What was the other?'

‘I was worried that if I started kissing you, I'd never be able to stop.'

Holy crap.
Lizzie felt her eyes widening to saucer size.
Seriously?

The tingle of awareness became a torrent when his gaze dipped to the drooping neckline of her sweatshirt. The long look made her breasts feel heavy, no mean feat when they were barely a B-cup.

His gaze slid back to hers, and she let out a breath. A necessity if she wanted to stay conscious with the large obstruction growing at an alarming rate in her throat.

She had a choice here. She could go for it. Or she could back off. Because she knew however much he might want to kiss her, Trey was not going to take the next step.

‘Restraint', after all, was his middle name. Right after ‘Responsible'.

‘Do you want to test that theory?' she asked on a husky murmur.

Good thing ‘restraint' and ‘responsible' weren't even in her vocabulary.

‘Is it that obvious?' he said, his voice a little choked.

She grinned, impossibly pleased. ‘Yes, I'd say it is.'

Pushing out of her deck chair, she stood over him. ‘Just so you know, Trey. If you want to kiss me, I have absolutely no objections.'

‘No?' He smiled up at her.

She straddled his thighs, settled onto his lap, a laugh escaping when the deck chair creaked and she had to grasp hold of the strut next to his head to stop from collapsing on top of him. ‘I wonder how much they charge if you break the stupid thing.'

His hands grasped her waist to steady her. ‘Whatever it costs, I'd say it's worth it.'

His wide chest expanded as he let out a staggered breath. His hands spread out under her sweatshirt, and his solid thighs quivered beneath hers.

He tugged her down to him, and she opened her mouth to meet him halfway. Excitement making her light-headed.

This was actually happening. At last.

She could taste the minty freshness of his breath. For a split second she panicked she might taste of stale cappuccino, but before she could draw back, his tongue thrust deep, claiming her mouth.

The muscles in his shoulders bunched beneath her palms as she clung on, anchoring herself as his hands stroked up her back, sending delicious shivers all over her body. He took without asking, devoured without holding back, but let her set the pace. His tongue coaxing, persuasive one minute, and hungry the next.

It felt so good, tasted so sweet and so hot. The kiss seemed to go on forever, full of power and demand, but ended way too soon, leaving her yearning for more.

Her whole body shook. The urge to grind her hips against his and increase the contact was overwhelming.

Strong fingers massaged her neck, then rested on her shoulders as his head dropped back. ‘That was a really stupid thing to do,' he said, his warm brown gaze fixed on her mouth.

She licked her lips, still tortured by the taste of him, the desire for more. ‘I liked it, though.'

She threaded her fingers into the short hair above his ears and trailed her thumbs down his neck. His Adam's apple leaped as the delicious shiver of response coursed through him.

‘Me, too, but we still shouldn't have done it,' he said. His rueful smile suggested he didn't regret it. Or at least not much. His cheeks had darkened beneath the olive skin.