Spiralling Skywards: Falling (Contradictions #1)

by Jones,Lesley

  He stopped exploring my throat with his tongue and looked at me. He licked his lips, and for the first time since meeting him, I swore I glimpsed a moment of self-doubt flash across his face. I felt bad for it, although really, it was all a little bit too much, too fast. How was I not supposed to be overwhelmed?

  “Too much?” he questioned.

  “Which bit?”

  “Everything. All of it. Me, the house, renting this place?”

  I was silent for a few moments. It was too much, but it was exciting too. So far we’d gotten along great, but we’d still not even had sex. What if I was shit at it? What if I dove into this and it all fell apart? I’d never had my heart broken, simply because I’d never allowed anyone to get close enough to break it.

  Until him.

  Until Liam Delaney.

  “I’m just a little overwhelmed. You’ve given me a lot to think about in a very short few hours.”

  He stepped back and leant against the bedroom wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing a chunky cardigan and a beanie on his head, which was a bit different and refreshing from what blokes normally wore around here. It wasn’t quirky, just different, and it was just another thing I added to the list of things that I found attractive about him. It was a growing list. A rapidly growing list.

  He shifted his position, buried his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and looked around the room.

  “Liam. I like you.” My mouth filled with saliva, I swallowed a couple of times in succession and wondered for a few seconds if I was actually gonna throw up. Situations like this, feelings, emotions, coupledom, they were all new to me.

  “I like you a lot, but please try to understand, I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. I had a boyfriend for three months when I was eighteen and just starting college, and that’s about it. One boyfriend. Ever.”

  He kept staring down at the carpet, still avoiding making eye contact with me.

  “I’ve been out on dates, but I can count on one hand the men that I’ve seen more than once or twice. I don’t think I saw any of them more than three times.”

  “I really don’t need to hear the low-down on your sex life.” He spoke, but he still didn’t look at me.

  “I’m not giving you the low-down on my sex life. I don’t have a sex life,” I snapped.

  Now it was time for me to lean back against the window sill and cross my arms in a defensive pose. His eyes finally met mine. I’d never seen him look more serious. His eyebrows were drawn together in a deep frown, causing lines to appear on his forehead.

  “Wha’d’ya mean you don’t have a sex life? You’ve had a sex life, though? You’ve had sex before, haven’t ya?”

  Yeah I’d had sex, but not nearly as often or with as many people as I was apparently expected to have had sex with.

  I recalled the conversation I’d overhead Nan and Luke having about me years ago and wondered again, exactly how much Liam knew about my past, about my mother.

  “Sarah?”

  Good thing the only light in the room was shining in from the hallway and the street light outside, because my cheeks were on fire, and I didn’t want anyone having to bear witness to my absolute embarrassment.

  I didn’t know why I was embarrassed to tell him the number of men I’d not had sex with. It wasn’t something I should’ve been ashamed of, and I wondered if I would have been embarrassed to admit my number if I had been the kind of girl that slept around. Maybe I would have openly, happily, and without an ounce of regret admitted to sleeping with ten, twenty, or thirty men. What number constituted as “high” anyway? I had no clue—but what I did know, what I was acutely aware of, was that my number was low, very low.

  “Yes, I’ve had sex.”

  He let out a grunt of relief. I thought back to the amount of blood involved when Darren popped my cherry and assumed that dealing with virgins was obviously too messy for his taste.

  Anger bubbled in my chest. I wasn’t sure why. Him not wanting to deal with messy virgins, my self-imposed celibacy, those bloody hormones again? I had no clue.

  “Twice,” I added. Thinking that he would be relieved to know that no blood would be involved if we did ever finally get to fuck. His eyebrows shot up and then pulled down into a frown almost within the same second.

  “Twice?” he questioned, crossing his arms back over his chest.

  “Yes twice. Two different men, but twice, ever.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Twice, I’m getting it. Fucking hell, you’re practically a virgin . . . ish.”

  “There’s no ‘ish’ when it comes to virginity. That cherry is either popped or it’s not. Although, if the second bloke had been my first, technically I think I would still be carrying my V card.”

  “Yeah, I don’t need to know that kinda information, Sares, like, not ever, if that’s all right with you?”

  “Oh, I’m more than happy to never speak about my sex life, or lack thereof, with you or anyone else on this planet again, ever.”

  He pushed his hands back down into the pockets of his jeans and stepped towards me.

  “I sorta like your lack of past experience. It turns me on.”

  He took another step towards me, hands still buried in his pockets, but at least now he had a smile on his face.

  “I don’t. What if I’m no good at it?” I whispered.

  “Then I’ll teach you to be better.”

  He stepped closer.

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  He was right in front of me.

  “Baby, I’ll teach you to love it.”

  His hot breath hit my ear and neck and goose bumps rippled out across my skin, making my scalp prickle and my toes curl. All traces of anger gone.

  “But I’m scared. I’m terrified. I don’t let people in. I’ve never been in love, but at least I’ve never been hurt.”

  His arms were around me in an instant. His lips on my face, my eyes, and neck.

  “Don’t be scared, pretty girl. Don’t ever be scared. We’ll take it slow. Everything, all of it.”

  His words and the look in his eyes matched in their sincerity, giving me no reason to doubt him. I’d never felt so secure and accepting of someone else’s feelings for me. He gave me a sense of self-worth that I’d never experienced before, and my chest and throat ached with the weight of emotion I felt.

  Despite all of this— despite him and his words—there was still that voice. That ever-present little voice in my head. The one that had been put there by the selfish actions of my parents that told me I was undeserving and unworthy.

  “I’ll teach you, bub. One day at a time, I’ll teach you everything that I know. And what I don’t know, we’ll learn together. I’ll hold you tight every step of the way, so please, don’t ever be scared.”

  My emotions hit me like a tidal wave. Every self-doubt and insecurity were washed onto the shore of my naked soul, and for the first time ever, I let a man in and voiced my biggest fears.

  “But I’m not lovable enough for people to stick around.” I had no clue the words would come out on a sob when I started to speak, but there they were. “People leave me, Liam. My dad left the moment he knew I was conceived and went running back to his wife. Then my mum, oh god, Liam, my mum.”

  I felt like I would choke. It was as if the pain and emotion the words caused in my chest were living, breathing, tangible things that were escaping through my throat and out of my mouth.

  “My fucking mother cared so little that she packed myself and Luke into a car to drive to a twenty-four-hour chemist so that she could get her prescription for Valium or Diazepam and her sleeping tablets filled. Getting her next fix of numbness was more important to her than the safety of her own children.”

  I was gasping for air by the time I got the words out, my knees were week and my vision blurred. Panic began to set in.

  I hadn’t had an attack like this in years, but this one was coming at me with force.

  The sound of the cutting e
quipment, Luke’s voice telling me everything was going to be okay. He was singing. He sang a song to me and told me to keep my eyes closed. He would sing any song I requested, as long as my eyes stayed closed. I squeezed them shut. I squeezed and squeezed until my cheeks and my head ached. What did he sing? What the fuck did he sing?

  “I can’t remember the song. What did he sing? I can’t remember. I can’t remember.”

  I grabbed the front of Liam’s cardigan and held on for dear life as he lifted me and then sat down with me in his lap on the bed. He pushed my hair back off my face, stroking his fingertips across my cheeks as he rocked me in his arms, telling me everything would be okay.

  “I’m here, Sarah. I’ll always be here. You don’t ever have to be scared again, pretty girl. I’m here, and I’ve got ya.”

  I took deep breaths in through my nose and breathed them slowly out through my mouth. The whoosh of blood pounding in my ears began to quiet, and I knew if I opened my eyes, my vision would be back. I felt drained. Mentally, physically, on every emotional level, I was exhausted.

  Feeling safe and secure in Liam’s arms, I kept my eyes closed and let the pull of sleep and dreams of neck-kissing husbands, big detached houses, and mangled cars claim me.

  I scooted back against the headboard with Sarah still in my arms. I held her tightly for a full ten minutes, making sure she was sound asleep before moving into a more comfortable position.

  This was all my fault. I pushed her too far. I knew she was young, but I had no clue exactly how inexperienced she was. I also had no idea how much of a negative impact her parents had on her life. Her words kept playing on a loop in my head, her dad went back to his wife? Was she the product of an affair? How did that work? Did she and Luke have different dads? Fuck, my dad was an arsehole sometimes, but at least he’d been there. At least he was present, too present a lot of the time. As for my mum, I didn’t know how I would’ve managed without her growing up. Even at thirty, I still needed my mum.

  Sarah had grown up without either. I wondered if she had ever met her dad, if he had ever played a part in her life. I couldn’t remember Luke mentioning him being around. This must be the reason her grandparents had stepped up. Thank fuck they had. I hated to even contemplate what might’ve happened if they hadn’t been around. Despite everything, she was lucky that Luke was a good bloke and he, along with their grandparents, had always been there for her. I wondered how young she was when all this happened, young I was guessing. No wonder Luke was so protective of her. All things considered, it came as no surprise really that they were so close, and here I was, putting her in a position where she was having to lie to him, where she knew I was lying to him.

  Fuck.

  I’d made promises I didn’t know if I could keep. My move to England was supposed to be temporary, a year, maybe two. However long it took to get the new business up and running.

  In the space of four weeks, this girl had me spinning, buying houses, and promising a future, a forever. I wasn’t even divorced yet. I had a wife for fuck’s sake—a wife I’d conveniently forgotten to mention to Sarah.

  I’d instructed my lawyers back in Australia to serve Olivia with divorce papers on the same day I left. I’d not heard anything from her yet, but I was expecting to any day now. She could fight me all she liked, but her adultery and our two-year separation were enough grounds to end things, which was exactly what needed to happen.

  I had a new life in England now. Sarah was hopefully my future, Olivia my past.

  Sarah turned her head slightly in my arms, mumbled something about someone named Kylie, and then licked her lips. Suddenly feeling way too warm, I pulled off my beanie and undid my cardigan. She let out a small sigh, and I pulled her tighter into my chest, overwhelmed by what I felt for this girl. My eyes roamed her face, memorizing every detail about her eyelashes, right down to the way they fanned out except for the very corners, where they curled right up. She had the prettiest eyes when they were open, the bluest blue. The image of a tiny little girl, barely walking with strawberry blonde hair and freckles on her nose hit me out of nowhere. Sarah’s little girl.

  Our little girl.

  A child.

  Our child.

  Olivia and I had never discussed children. Not once. Not even when other people brought up the subject. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, and I didn’t want to bring a child into the world that would be moulded and manipulated to do her family’s bidding. Fuck that. Children were my sister’s job. I’d run the family businesses, but I wouldn’t be carrying on the family name. Yet, here I was only four weeks after meeting Sarah Carter, planning a future with her, making promises, and imagining what our children might look like.

  My eyes moved from her lashes to her mouth, and I couldn’t resist the temptation, the pull, whatever it was, it overwhelmed me, drew me in and spat me out feeling eviscerated. I simply had no fight or resistance left in me, nor did I seek it out. I brushed my lips against hers and opened my arms and my heart to whatever emotions were about to come my way. She sighed at my kiss, and that was when I fell.

  I thought I was prepared.

  I had no fucking clue.

  The ground opened up and swallowed me whole, consumed me. I fell to a place unknown to me. A place way beyond my comprehension. It was no longer about lust. My feelings had moved way, way beyond lust.

  My chest tightened as I took a few moments to acknowledge that fact. I let it settle over me, I absorbed it and sucked it into my pores, I let it flow through my bloodstream and sink into my marrow.

  She was inside me now, part of my DNA, and I had to fight the overwhelming need to cry as that realisation hit me and panic began to set in.

  What the fuck?

  I can’t do this.

  This is not who I am. Not what I do.

  This is not what I came here for.

  I didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. I’d known her for four weeks. Four fucking weeks.

  My head was screaming at me to run. Run far, far away, but my heart, my heart had my arse firmly planted on the bed with my arms tightly wrapped around the girl that was fast becoming the centre of my world, my whole fucking universe.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, it was on silent, but the vibration caused Sarah to stir but not wake. I’d never had an anxiety or panic attacks, I’d never even witnessed one, but I was pretty sure that’s what she’d had earlier, and I was pretty sure that they left the person feeling drained afterwards.

  I actually didn’t mind if she’d stayed asleep all night. I would have gladly held on to her till my very last breath.

  And what was scary was that the thought of holding on to her for the rest of my life didn’t scare me, whereas the thought of losing her left me terrified.

  I must’ve fallen asleep too because the next thing I knew, we were lying wrapped around each other on the bed, obviously trying to keep warm as the room was freezing. I’d had all of the amenities switched on the day before, I just hadn’t physically switched on the heating. I’d been out and bought a kettle, toaster, and a coffee machine, as well as the bed and bedding, towels, and a fridge freezer, which would be delivered on Monday.

  I was hoping that Sarah would come with me to pick out furniture. I looked down at her sleeping in my arms and knew that if moving my life permanently to England was what I had to do for this girl, then that was what would happen. Leaving her was no longer an option.

  I slid out from beside her, found the cupboard containing the boiler and switched on the heat. It didn’t escape me that we could just go to her place once she woke up. After all, her place was empty across the road, but I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to keep her here. Somewhere that was ours that nobody else knew about yet.

  We’d had zero privacy the previous four weeks. It had been years since I’d kissed a girl in my car or on their front doorstep and then gone home alone, but that was just the way it’d had to be. Luke was going to be home the following day, and we planned to t
ell him that we were together then. I had no clue how he’d take, it and to be honest, I didn’t care. I was falling fast for Sarah, and I’d tell him that. I needed to tell her about Olivia first, though. We were married on paper only, she hadn’t been my wife in years, if ever, so it was no big deal. I’d just rather Sarah knew the truth and that she heard it from me.

  I found the keys to Sarah’s house in her bag and left her sleeping while I went across the road to her place. I gathered up her sweats and trackies she’d had on the night before and some toiletries from her bathroom. Then, right before I left, I tucked some milk, teabags, beer, wine, and some cups from her kitchen into my bag too.

  The place was warmer when I returned. I put everything in the kitchen before going back to the bedroom where Sarah was just sitting up and rubbing her eyes. I sat on the bed and watched her as she blinked a few times and took in her surroundings. Then she covered her face with both hands and mumbled, “Oh please tell me that didn’t really happen earlier.”

  “Yep, I really rented the place across from yours.”

  She spread her fingers apart and looked at me through them.

  “That wasn’t just a dream?”

  “Nope, you’re here, tied to the bed of your very own stalker.”

  She actually sat up further and moved her legs, just to be sure they hadn’t been restrained. She looked across to me and gave a small smile.

  “Kidnapped and tied to a bed by my stalker sounds like a much better dream than the nightmare of me having a major panic attack in front of him.”

  I wanted say something funny in response, but my sense of humour vanished when I saw the tears shinning in her eyes.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “One day, just not right now.”

  “I’m here when ya do.”

  “I know. Thank you and I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Like I said last night, it’s been an intense few weeks, and I just added to the pressure today.”

  We sat and stared down to where our hands had found each other’s. We remained in total silence for a few moments.

  “So my stalkerishness levels increased exponentially while you were sleeping.”