by Anne Oliver
He’d had a brief text reply thanking him for letting her know and for an ‘amazing weekend’. Not another word about what was happening between them or any suggestion they get together soon. Nothing.
At least she’d replied. He told himself she was busy with rescheduled clients and her hectic social life.
Right.
Staring at the ceiling, he wondered, was she doing her party thing with another guy tonight?
If I’m sleeping with a guy, he’s the only guy I’m sleeping with.
If there was one thing Leo knew about this woman it was that Brie did not lie.
Tonight the hushed still of the night and his solitude were all he had. He’d always been content with that. Until he’d met Brie and she’d worked her way under his skin like a prickle, then an itch.
Then all the way right into his heart.
He rubbed a fist over the place where on cue it throbbed and burned and ached.
Flinging back his quilt, he pushed up and stalked to the window and stared at West Wind’s darkened windows. He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the only possible reason why his entire chest felt as if it were caught in a vice. It couldn’t be.
She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t anyone’s type—she was unique. She was Brie.
Strong and smart and sexy. Messy. Honest and open with a wicked sense of humour. A woman whose company inspired and entertained him. A whirlwind and a challenge. A woman he never tired of gazing at or sparring with or making love to.
Because love was exactly what he felt when they were together. When he buried himself inside her and held her close, looked into her bottomless black eyes. And denied it every time.
Not any more.
He tried on the word for size. ‘Love...’ The murmur felt foreign on his tongue but it fitted. With Brie, it fitted.
It was as if Sunny’s words had unlocked something inside him. Freed him to examine his thoughts and emotions in a different way. And it didn’t make him feel weak—he felt strong, invincible. A Superman.
Pulling on a T-shirt and jeans, he let himself out into the chilly air and headed to West Wind to wait for Brie. Whatever time she came home, he intended to be there. To tell her how he felt.
As he walked up the path to the front door, a slant of light coming from the room she liked to call The Parlour on the far side of the house caught his attention.
He walked along the path in that direction to check if her car was in the garage or if she’d been picked up, glancing in the window to check if everything was in order in the room on his way past.
Through the gauzy curtain, he saw Brie sitting on the overstuffed couch, hunched over as if in pain, the heels of her hands pressed to her brow.
Was she ill? Not wanting to give her a heart attack by knocking on the pane, he jogged to the front door, let himself in with his keys, calling her name as he headed down the passage.
‘Brie...’ He stopped in the doorway. The scene was not the scene he’d viewed through the window less than thirty seconds ago.
Surrounded by a sea of natural yarn, she looked up at him, all casual composure. So, the outward calm she presented wasn’t always the way she felt inside.
She picked up a ball of driftwood-coloured wool and said, ‘I thought you’d moved out?’
‘I thought you were ill.’
‘I’m perfectly well, as you can see.’
As he came further into the room, he could see her eyes were red and swollen. ‘Not from where I’m standing.’
She didn’t answer him, knotting the end of the wool in her hand to the charcoal yarn and picking up a pair of lethal-looking knitting needles he’d not noticed earlier.
‘That’s going to be some scarf when it’s done.’ He moved closer, willing her to look at him, but she lowered her head to her work. ‘You made it abundantly clear your social calendar was chock-a-block this week,’ he said. ‘You’ve accused me of making assumptions, so I’m going to ask you to tell me if I’ve got it wrong in assuming you told me that to avoid seeing me.’
Her head bent further, her hands faltered and she nodded.
She might as well have plunged her knitting needles into his chest because they wouldn’t have hurt as much as the pain that arced through his heart. ‘Why?’
Setting her knitting aside, she shook her head. ‘This. Us.’ She made a to-and-fro movement between them with her hands. ‘It’s better to end it now.’
‘Why?’ He heard the curt demand in his voice, reined himself in, tried again, calmer this time though his insides were cramping and everything was unravelling like her wool. ‘Can I ask why?’
‘You rearranged my garden shed.’
What? ‘Yes. But—’
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ She lifted devastated eyes to his. ‘When someone just comes in and takes it on himself to change everything. When someone tries to reorder my life?’
‘Your garden shed,’ he corrected. ‘Or are you talking about something else?’
She shook her head. ‘I like messy. I’m comfortable with messy—it’s who I am.’ She rose, pinned him with an accusing look. ‘I bet you arrange your DVDs in alphabetical order and woe betide anyone who forgets to put them back in their correct niches.’
‘Chronological, actually.’ He tried a smile but his lips wouldn’t cooperate. ‘What else? Surely one mistake on my part can’t have changed your mind.’
‘Your grand gestures.’ She ground a fist into her open palm against her chest. ‘Flowers, diamonds. I don’t need them. Don’t want them.’
‘Is it a crime to want to show a person I appreciate her?’
‘So it makes you feel good?’
‘Wrong.’ But he thought of other times with other women when it had been exactly that. It was different with Brie. ‘You want me to go away—is that what you’re trying to tell me?’
‘I don’t need a regular man in my life. I’m happy the way I am. Freedom’s what I want.’
To his surprise—and hers, apparently—her eyes filled with tears.
‘So why are you crying?’
‘I’m not crying.’ She swiped at her cheeks, swore under her breath. ‘Okay, I’m crying.’
‘You lied to me about your activities this week. The one person I trusted not to lie.’
‘That’s why you’re bad for me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You took it upon yourself and changed the terms of our relationship without giving me a say. You always have to be the boss; you can’t let others make their own choices.’
‘That’s who I am.’
‘A control freak’s who you are.’
The truth of her words, unfair, struck at his core and anger simmered just below the surface. ‘Let me tell you about control. My entire life was dictated by my father’s actions. He’d turn up on Mum’s pay day and take our rent money then disappear for weeks till the cash ran out. When I was old enough I took an after-school job to help.
‘I was eighteen when I came home after work one night to find the bastard laying into her. When I intervened, he goaded me into swinging a punch and I just lost it. For the first time in my life I let the man get the better of me. I think I broke his nose. And it felt so friggin’ good. So well deserved.’
Brie’s swollen eyes filled with moisture. ‘Leo...it’s—’
‘I’m not done.’ Leo slashed the space between them with his hand. ‘He left off Mum and staggered out like the coward he was. Great—I was prepared to do it again. Whatever it took to get him away from us.’
‘That w—’
‘I was wrong. He came back later that night when we were asleep and set fire to the place. Because I lost control.’
‘No.’
She rose from the couch, reached a hand towards him but he held up a hand. ‘Not now.’
Her arm fell to her side. ‘You were protecting the ones you love.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Dead. Killed by the fire he star
ted.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t h—’
‘I’ve cared for Sunny ever since. After surgery and physio and counsellors, she needed someone there for her, someone to make the decisions. In the absence of any other family, that person was me and I won’t apologise for that.’
‘I’m not asking for apologies.’
‘So what are you asking for?’ He narrowed his eyes, searching for some clue. ‘Or are you too afraid to risk asking the question?’
What little colour she had drained from her face, leaving her chalk-white. Hugging defensive arms to her chest, she turned away from him, paced to the end of the sofa. ‘It’s better if you leave.’
‘Better for who, Brie? You’re not the woman you show to the world.’ He waved a hand at her craftwork. ‘Hiding away here after you made sure I thought you were out socialising this week.’
‘I—’
‘You’re not only lying to me, you’re lying to yourself. And that’s the real tragedy.’ He moved closer—one small step for a man. He saw fear in her eyes, and pain as she backed away further. ‘You don’t have to be afraid, Brie. Trust m—’
‘Please. Just go. Go now.’
The finality in her plea hit him full force and he turned to do just that. But he stopped at the doorway. He wasn’t leaving without saying what he’d come here to say. ‘So you want to toss what we have away before we find out where it goes?’
‘You’re a very special man, Leo Hamilton, and it’s been an amazing ride. But I like my freedom more.’
Freedom. A bitter laugh rose up his throat at the irony. How many times had he told himself he wanted the same? ‘I came here tonight to wait for you to come home, no matter how long it took. To tell you I’m in love with you, and want you in my life permanently. I want it all. With you. The real kicker is that Sunny told me to lay my feelings for you on the line and just go for it.’
She stared at him, aghast, as if he had some contagious fatal disease. ‘You can’t be in love with me.’
‘Why the hell not? I’ll be the judge of who I’m in love with.’
‘No.’ The word fell from parched lips. ‘Even if that were true, sooner or later you’ll fall out of love and leave—emotionally if not physically. And that’s the very worst kind of absence. The kind that drains your essence, drop by drop until there’s nothing left but a shell.’
‘Is that what Elliot did? Your parents?’ The agony he saw in her eyes slayed him but she was measuring him against others. ‘I’m not like that. What’s more you know I’m not like that. One attribute I do have is stickability—ask Sunny. You’re not being fair to me. To us.’
She wasn’t listening to him, her gaze focused inwards. ‘It’s emotional abandonment,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘And I won’t let it happen to me. Not again.’ She buried her face in her hands.
‘You mean you’re not prepared to take a risk even after I’ve bared my heart and soul to you.’
‘Can’t,’ she whispered. ‘Won’t.’
‘Life’s a risk. Stepping out the front door in the morning’s a risk. Coming here tonight was a risk.’ He tossed her set of house keys on the nearest chair. ‘When you’re ready to take that risk, let me know. But don’t take too long about it. Life’s not only a risk, it’s also short.’
As soon as Brie heard the front door close, her legs gave way and she sank to the floor, curled up into a ball and rocked. The world had officially gone crazy.
She’d just listened to the saddest story she’d ever heard. How much more pain had he endured than her? She’d wanted to reach out to him in that moment but he’d pushed her away, mentally shut her out. Ten seconds later he’d done an about-turn and said he was in love with her. He wanted her in his life forever.
The man who only a few days ago had assured her they could keep things as simple as she wanted—which just went to show men didn’t know what they wanted and were incapable of keeping their word.
Simple as falling in love? She coughed out a bitter laugh. She’d been falling down that slippery slope since that fateful evening at East Wind when she’d introduced herself to Mr Perfect. Falling, sliding, scrambling—to keep her feet on the ground, her head in control of her stupid heart that wanted what it couldn’t have.
And ultimately failing.
Where Leo was concerned, no heart, no hurt wouldn’t work. She’d known that from the start. But Brie the Great Pretender had gone ahead and played her game of let’s stick to casual fun because I’m too afraid to trust anything deeper anyway. And now she was going to pay the price for the rest of her life.
Because that was how long it would take to get over him.
* * *
A few weeks later, Brie glared at the catastrophe she called her salon’s tiny office and flipped through another pile of miscellaneous papers strewn across her desk. A new client had made an appointment with Jodie only an hour ago and was due in ten minutes and Brie couldn’t find the product order she’d printed out yesterday for the delivery guy who was turning up any minute now.
She could really do with Leo’s organisational skills here.
The thought of Leo sent shards of pain shooting through her body for the fiftieth time this morning. He hadn’t contacted her since that last horrible night. She could admit, now that it was too late to tell him, that she loved what he’d done with her garden shed. One day when things between them weren’t so damaged—in a million years—she’d let him know how much she appreciated his efforts. She pounced on the wayward paper beneath an empty takeaway coffee cup and headed to the shared reception area with it.
A young blonde woman with clear blue eyes stood at the desk. She leaned on an elbow crutch and smiled as Brie approached. There was something about that smile that reminded her of someone.
‘Good morning.’ Brie checked her new client’s name on the information sheet Jodie handed her. ‘Sky? Welcome. I’m Brie.’ As she ushered Sky into her treatment room Brie noted beneath her black trousers one leg was deformed in some way. ‘Have a seat and we’ll have a quick chat.’ She lit her Balinese Temple aromatherapy candles and switched on her calming CD. ‘I see here you’ve chosen to try the chamomile and fruit facial and a hand massage?’
‘Yes.’ Sky set her crutch on the floor beside her.
Brie skimmed the form. ‘You’re from Primrose Bay.’ A forty-minute drive away.
‘I’m staying with a friend temporarily.’
Brie looked up. ‘Not that I’m complaining, but why come all this way?’
‘I looked up Eve’s Naturally online. I like your use of natural products. Oh, and I admire what you’re doing with Pink Snowflake, which you mentioned there too.’ She smiled.
Brie smiled back. ‘Let’s get started, then.’
Brie always left it to her client to choose whether she wanted to talk or close her eyes and relax during treatments.
Sky was a talker. Brie asked the usual questions and answered Sky’s responses on autopilot. But as usual, she couldn’t seem to concentrate because she was thinking of Leo. How he was, what he was doing now, whether he’d found somewhere to live because she hadn’t seen him near East Wind.
‘Do you have a regular guy in your life?’
Brie heard the end of Sky’s question and pulled herself back to the present. ‘No.’ She squirted lotion onto Sky’s palm and worked it in with her thumb. ‘You?’
‘I do. We’ve been seeing each other for four months now. He’s an amazing and gifted person.’
So is Leo. ‘That’s great.’ Working her way up each of Sky’s fingers in turn, Brie reminded herself she’d glimpsed what gave Sky that inner radiance and slammed the door on the possibility for herself.
Then Sky grimaced. ‘I just wish my overprotective, control-freak brother thought so.’
‘Some guys can be like that,’ Brie said, thinking of one guy in particular. ‘I’m sure your brother doesn’t mean to be controlling.’
Sky coughed out a laugh.
‘You reckon?’
‘And dictatorial and overbearing too?’ Brie suggested.
‘Yeah.’ Sky’s smile turned wistful. ‘But he’s the best brother in the world and I wouldn’t swap him for anything. Sometimes I forget to tell him.’
‘I’m sure he knows. Maybe he’s so focused on doing what he considers is in your best interests, he simply doesn’t understand how he comes across.’ Brie blinked at her own perceptiveness. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘Enough of the psych talk.’
‘Not at all. It’s good to meet someone who understands. He’s still getting used to the fact that I’m an adult now and want to do my own thing,’ Sky went on. ‘I think he just needs to be needed.’ She cocked her head, bright eyes filled with interest. ‘You’ve never had a guy in your life that you thought could be someone special?’
Brie’s chest cramped while she squeezed and kneaded Sky’s hand, pressed deep into the palm. ‘Yes. But I didn’t want commitment. I wanted my freedom.’
‘So is freedom still what you want or are you afraid of making the wrong decision?’
‘I’m still thinking about that.’ And why were Sky’s questions so similar to those Leo had asked her? Those same questions she’d asked herself over and over since he’d walked out of her life.
‘Men aren’t good at expressing emotion,’ Sky said. ‘They don’t want to talk about their feelings; they don’t want to know about yours; it freaks them out and makes them feel like they’ve lost face somehow.’
‘If they were more like women...’
‘I’d say it would be kind of boring, wouldn’t you? Does he love you, do you think?’
‘Yes. I think he does. Did.’
‘Did he tell you?’
‘Yes.’
Sky’s eyebrows shot skyward. ‘Wow, I’m impressed,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘It takes guts for a guy to confess his love, you know? So if he told you that, I reckon he won’t have changed his mind in the space of a few weeks.’
Brie prided herself on understanding men but she’d never looked further than skin-deep. Except with Leo. Every time she’d started looking beyond their initial attraction, she’d pushed such thoughts away.
She’d not thanked him as he deserved to be thanked for the fire alarms she’d given him such grief about. His efforts at organising her garden shed—who’d go to all that trouble for someone else unless they were really special to them? And she’d repaid him with the kind of appalling social skills she’d accused him of having. She’d refused to view it in the way she should have.