Blazing Fear

by Leisl Leighton

  Chapter 23

  ‘Grumpy!’ Carter shouted as he flew in the door behind Flynn—followed by Aaron and Tilly—and then launched himself into Diarmuid’s strong embrace.

  ‘Carts, how I’ve missed you, lad.’ Diarmuid spun him around, making Carter squawk with laughter.

  Prita wanted to hug both of them in relief that she’d been saved from telling Flynn something he might not be ready to hear. She was so close to having the happiness she never thought would be hers, but only if she could get him on board with that—and now, in the middle of the danger she was in, wasn’t the time. Was it?

  Her gaze slipped from the ecstatic reunion to the man who had come to fill gaps in her life she hadn’t even known were there, let alone needed filling. He was standing there, a smile on his face, his arm slung around his son’s shoulder, the other over Tilly’s shoulder, pulling them both into his side as they stared at her papa.

  Nope. Definitely not the time.

  Diarmuid turned, Carter clinging to his side like a monkey. ‘Carts, are these your friends?’

  ‘Yep, Grumpy. This is Aaron and that’s Tilly. They live here at CoalCliff. They’re kind-a-cousins and my best friends.’

  Diarmuid strode across the kitchen and held out his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet the BFFs of my Carts here. He’s talked lots about you.’ His long, musicians’ fingers curled lightly around each little hand that was offered to him, both kids blushing hotly and muttering greetings. Diarmuid beamed at them. ‘I was wanting a tour of this fine facility and knowing what Cart’s told me about you both, I think you’d be the best people to show me around.’ He looked down at Carter. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Yes!’ Carter said, jumping up and down. ‘We can’t show you the climbing wall—it got a bit burned today and Flynn says we can’t go down there until it’s been checked out. But we can show you the corrals and the horses in the paddocks and you can meet Nat and Reid and the others and we can show you Rebel and he’s the new stallion that Aaron fell off which is why he’s in a sling and can’t go riding until it’s better.’

  ‘I didn’t fall off. He threw me,’ Aaron said, chin rising. ‘He’s not broken in properly.’

  ‘Of course he wasn’t,’ Diarmuid said, ruffling his hair and settling his upset pride all in one beaming smile. ‘Carts has told me you are the one who taught him all he knows about horses.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I have too,’ Tilly said, puffing her chest out. ‘I taught him how to feed them and look after them.’

  ‘Of course you did. Well how about you start teaching me too. I’m going to be here for a few weeks at least and it’s about time I brush up on my horsemanship.’

  ‘You know how to ride, Grumpy?’

  ‘Of course. We had horses at the farm I grew up on in County Cork and I used to ride all the time. I’m looking forward to having a ride while I’m here.’

  ‘We could go riding tomorrow,’ Carter said, looking up at Flynn. ‘Can’t we?’

  ‘Sure. There’s a ride on tomorrow afternoon, and Reid’s up in the barn getting things ready for it, but I’m sure Reid’d be happy to take you out. There’s plenty of day left.’ He shot a knowing smirk Prita’s way and she couldn’t help smirking back. Reid was a massive Diarmuid Brennan fan—something she found out the hard way when he discovered who her papa was and didn’t stop talking about him and his music the first few months they’d known each other and asking questions about growing up with him and if she’d been there when he wrote ‘Country Stars’, or ‘Golden my Love’, and ‘Blue Days’. It wasn’t until Barb and Nat ganged up on him and told him he was being a pain in the arse fan-boy that he apologised and limited his fan raving to once every now and then.

  ‘Are you talking about Reid Stratton?’ Diarmuid asked, brightening and rubbing his hands together. ‘Ooh, I’d love to talk to him about his climb up Everest and his musical choices for his shows. Whoever picks the music and writes the scores is a musical genius. Do you think he’ll mind if I ask him about his work?’

  Lips twitching, Flynn said, ‘I think you two will get along just fine.’

  ‘Wonderful. Then let’s hop to it.’

  ‘You coming, Dad?’ Aaron asked.

  Flynn’s gaze flickered to Prita and back. ‘How about you take Mr Brennan …’

  ‘Diarmuid,’ her papa said. ‘I’m not Mr Brennan—that was my papa. I prefer people to call me Diarmuid. Although—’ he went down on one knee, his arm hooked around Carter, ‘—Carts’ best friends can call me Grumpy too if you like.’

  ‘Could we?’ Aaron and Tilly said together.

  ‘Absolutely.’ He chucked both of them under the chin then stood again, clapping his hands together. ‘So, how about you show me up to the stables and introduce me to young Reid. And, Aaron, I expect you to help me choose the best horse for the ride.’

  Aaron pouted. ‘I can’t go out with you.’

  ‘I can see that. But you can show me around when we get back. In fact, I know you’ll be the best for the job.’

  ‘Sure will,’ Aaron said, puffing up.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Okay, Grumpy,’ the three kids said at once, diving to grab a hand to pull him out of the kitchen, Carter latching on to one hand, Tilly the other and Aaron holding his wrist. Diarmuid went with them, laughing and happier than she’d heard him for a while. At the door, Carter and Aaron both stopped and looked back, saying simultaneously, ‘Are you coming?’

  Flynn said, ‘I just want to have a quick word with your mum,’ at the same time she said, ‘Of course.’

  Diarmuid, eyes twinkling, tugged on the hands holding his and said, ‘I know you need to chat, so you stay here and let the kids show me around.’ Prita shook her head at him, but his eyes twinkled more and his smile widened as he said, ‘That okay with you, kids?’

  ‘Yeah,’ the kids chimed and then they were gone.

  Flynn turned to Prita as she turned to him.

  ‘Did you want to go with them? I know you want to stay with Carter.’

  Prita sighed. It was good for Carter to spend time with just Grumpy and his friends. She didn’t want to ruin that for them. ‘No. I’ll just stay here and do some more work.’

  ‘What did you want to tell me?’

  She froze in the act of turning away. ‘Uh, nothing.’

  His hands slipped around her waist and she couldn’t help leaning back into him. ‘Are you sure it was nothing?’

  She turned in his arms. ‘Just that I wanted to do this again.’ She reached up, her need too hot, too raw a thing to deny. She might not be ready to say the words yet, but she sure as hell could pour everything she was into this with him.

  The spark flared the moment their lips touched, as if they’d been too long apart, hands gripping, lips meeting, clashing, breaths catching as they took and gave. His shirt was gone and then so was hers and his lips were on her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, her hands playing over the hard planes of his chest, his back, his arms, diving into the silky hot waves of his hair. She gulped in air, making little greedy, needy sounds as he licked and nibbled and sucked his way down to the button on her shorts and then the shorts were gone and so were her undies and his fingers were there, parting her curls, his tongue thrusting into her folds and thank god he’d backed her up to the table because she could barely stand upright as he licked and sucked, his fingers playing over her. His hands moved, lifting her onto the table, opening her to him even more so that he could truly feast, and then thank god—thank god—he stood and she lifted her legs as he moved between them and cried out as he thrust inside her, the thick length of him almost more than she could bare. But it was glorious and she wanted it, wanted him. Wanted more.

  More.

  More.

  She didn’t care that the table was hard underneath her or that they were making love in the kitchen and anyone could walk in. All she cared about was this, him, what he made her feel and what she could make him feel. He was everythi
ng she’d ever wanted and more because he was so unexpected. She wanted to tell him that. Needed to tell him. But there were no words right now, her mind too full of pleasure and the wave that was once again growing and growing inside her, cresting, breaking over both of them, carrying them up and then letting them go.

  She wrapped herself around him as they fell, keeping him safe and protected as he did the same for her and rode out the waves, collapsing finally, limbs soft, entangled, the hardness of the table’s surface finally registering.

  Not that it mattered.

  All that mattered was this. That they were here. Sharing something magical. Gasping for breath and tingling all over and feeling energised and enervated all at the same time. A confusion of sensation, sure, something that would have worried her before her realisation today. But now, it didn’t worry her at all, because it was right. This. Here. Them. Together.

  She loved him.

  He loved her. She was sure of it.

  One.

  They were one.

  ‘What did you say?’ He jerked back, looking down at her, shock and worry and fear written all over his features.

  ‘What?’ she said, confusion then worry washing over her as she wondered if she’d murmured her thoughts out loud. They’d been so big in her head.

  Surely, she hadn’t?

  But she could see by the look on his face she probably had.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  He shook his head and pulled away further. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Can’t what?’ She sat up slowly, trying to pretend like she hadn’t just blurted out the one thing he wasn’t ready to hear. Warm pleasure slid from her veins to be replaced by icy cold as he backed away from her. She became aware she was naked. But she couldn’t move. He was pulling back. Pulling away. Not just physically. Something had changed in his eyes. That look that had made her feel so cherished earlier was gone and a cold wall was in its place.

  ‘Can’t love me. It’s not what we agreed.’

  She sucked in a shaky breath, the sensation like she’d been punched making her want to cry. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. She’d done this and she had to fix it. Blinking back the hot wash of tears, she reached for the t-shirt lying on the table beside her. It was his, but it didn’t matter, she had to cover herself with something. She was so exposed. Been so stupid. Blurted out something that shouldn’t have been blurted out like that. Not now. Not in this moment. Lovemaking confessions of love. God, how cliché. Her rash, run with her instincts crap at their very worst.

  She pulled the t-shirt over her head, down to cover as much of her as she could and then slipped off the table, aware of the evidence of their lovemaking wet and heavy and hot between her legs. She wanted to run to the bathroom, to clean herself up, to pull herself together, to find some shred of the dignity that was scattered with her clothes on the floor. But she couldn’t. Not when he was standing there, looking as shocked and betrayed as if she’d shot him, pulling up the jeans he hadn’t even fully taken off. She hadn’t noticed he’d only shoved them down enough to enter her. She’d been too lost in the madness of passion to notice she was the only one truly naked and exposed.

  What an idiot. She brushed her hair back from her face. God, she wished she had the band. She needed the calm surety of pulling her hair back into that tight, high ponytail, returning herself to some semblance of order. But it had probably flown across the kitchen when he’d removed her t-shirt and god knows where it was now. So, she just raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears and lifted her chin, gaze meeting his, smile pulling at her lips in a way that felt plastic, tight. ‘Who said anything about love?’

  His gaze raked over her, heating for a second before returning to that cold tinged with fear. Betrayal. ‘You did. Just then. You said we were one.’

  ‘I didn’t mention love.’

  ‘That’s what you say when you’re in love.’

  ‘Is it?’ The tight smile widened. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love.’

  His nostrils whitened and his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, a huge something, but then all he said was, ‘I have. We were one. I will never be one with anyone else.’

  She tried not to flinch but god, it hurt so much that he would say that. That he would think it. Especially after what they’d just shared. The importance of it. At least, she’d thought it was important.

  ‘I told you I still love Anna.’

  She breathed past the sucker-punch of pain his words brought and managed to say evenly, ‘You did.’

  ‘I thought I made it clear this—’ he waved his hand between them, ‘—was to help us forget our problems. With no strings. You agreed.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘So why did you say that? That we’re one?’ The betrayal in his voice was so vivid, it hurt.

  ‘Because …’ Oh god. There was no reason other than she loved him. And she couldn’t say that. Not now. She wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. This was not going as she planned. But then, when did anything go as planned for her? Her history was full of a life with no plans. What had made her think that had changed? Could change? How could she be such a good doctor and yet so shit with her personal life?

  Why had she thought having an epiphany would make some kind of difference with him?

  ‘Well? Prita?’ He was staring at her, waiting, accusing.

  ‘I didn’t say it, I thought it.’ Well, that makes it all so much better, Prita. She almost rolled her eyes at herself as the dumb words echoed between them.

  His gaze was a little wild as he stared at her. She didn’t quite know what he was looking to find in her expression—contrition? Guilt? Insanity? Well, he might find that because this was insane. How could being in love with someone be so bad? Why did she feel like she’d done a criminal act? He was looking at her as if she’d been the one setting the fires, threatening to burn down his home, to make everything he’d worked so hard to achieve turn to ash, exposing everything he’d worked so hard to hide.

  Oh shit.

  Her mouth fell open as she realised what she’d done. What he’d been using her for. It wasn’t just a distraction for him. He thought this could fix him. That he could take this from her and keep his love for Anna on the pedestal it had always been on and never move forward, always look back at what he’d lost, not what he could gain.

  The hurt of it burned in her lungs, stung her eyes, made her take in a little gasping breath. Then made her say something she should never have said to him. ‘Why would I love someone who has tied himself so inexorably to the past because he can’t move past his fears? I’d have to be pretty stupid to fall in love with someone who would only ever love a ghost.’

  The lines bracketing his mouth turned white—rage, fury, she wasn’t sure because his eyes were cold, blanked of all emotion. ‘I thought you understood what this was. My mistake.’

  Then he turned and the kitchen door banged behind him, the sound, dull, empty, shocking.

  The front door slammed shut a moment later, the sound echoing through the house like the banging of a gavel signalling a life’s sentence of heartbreak and loneliness. Prita started to shiver, arms wrapped around herself as she leaned back against the table. What had she done? How could she be so stupid as to not have seen what was happening? He had obviously fooled himself into thinking that what was between them could help him overcome his fears the fire season brought, but that was just a surface thing, not the truth of the matter at all.

  And she’d just thrown that truth in his face in the most callous way imaginable.

  She’d always prided herself on her empathy. The hypocratic oath had seemed such an easy thing to uphold. Do no harm. She laughed, a bitter, horrid sound in the quiet of the house. She couldn’t have done more harm with what she’d said than if she’d picked up an electric saw and cut out his heart. That look in his eyes, she’d never forget. She had no doubt he would never forget it either.

&n
bsp; She bowed her head, hands covering her face as she breathed past the panic, past the pain, trying to think of a way she could fix this.

  But how could she fix something so irreparably broken? He’d trusted her to help him and she’d slapped him in the face then backed it up by crushing his heart, his soul, his very belief in the person he was trying to be. Had he been wrong in using sex with her to make him forget his fears? Yes. But that wasn’t a crime. It was a mistake, a hurtful mistake, but nothing more than that. He wasn’t the kind of man to have done such a thing out of cruelty. Whatever else he was, he was kind and good.

  Things she’d thought she was.

  How the fuck was she supposed to fix this when she didn’t even know if she could trust herself?

  Perhaps she wasn’t the best parent for Carter after all. Perhaps she couldn’t be the doctor this community needed.

  She stood there for long moments feeling sorry for herself. What was she going to do? She had no idea, but one thing was certain—she couldn’t stay here. There was only one thing she could do. Go to Chandra and tell him she and Carter were coming home with him and Vivaan. They’d make it work. Until Carter’s dad came to take him away and then she wouldn’t care what happened because what could matter to her then when everything she loved most was gone?

  She rubbed at her chest, knuckles digging into her sternum as she tried desperately not to cry. If she cried, she’d end up on the floor and might never be able to get herself back up again. She picked her t-shirt off the floor. She needed to get dressed. Get out of Flynn’s t-shirt.

  ‘Doctor Prita!’

  She jumped and turned around as Cherry burst through the door, phone in hand. Hell. She’d completely forgotten her nurse was in the house. Had she heard anything? She opened her mouth to explain, but before a single word fell out of her mouth, she noticed the distress in her friend’s eyes, the way she was thrusting the phone out towards Prita. Oh hell. Not again. She couldn’t deal with any more threats. Hadn’t she been through enough in one day? ‘I don’t … I can’t ….’ She couldn’t take the phone. She couldn’t.