One (Love by Numbers Book 5)

by E. S. Carter

  He matches my stance, his shoulders widening, his aggression palpable. “The fact he’s avoiding you says it all, don’t you think? If my brother wants a re-run fuck, he’ll come and find you, I’m sure. Now if we’re done here, I’ll see you on set in the morning. I have work to do, and I want to get home to my wife and kid and not be caught up here firing one of my actors for his disrespect.”

  I’ve reached the end of my tether. He can fucking fire me. I’m past caring.

  “Fuck you very much, Mr Fox. You know where I am if you want to make good on your threats.”

  With those as my parting words, I turn and leave the trailer. As soon as I’m out of earshot, I spin and punch my fist straight through a giant set piece. Yeah, if I wasn’t fired before, I likely am now.

  The act of violence does nothing to quell the anger bubbling through my veins like acid, and I pull back my fist to do some more damage. Before I take the swing, a hand lands on my shoulder and I spin around faster than a bullet ready and willing to let my fury out on a person instead of a fake stud wall.

  My fist falls redundantly at my side when I see before me the last person I ever expected, but the only person I’ve ever wanted. Stood behind me hands raised his palms facing outwards in the universal sign for ‘don’t attack’, is the man that’s been avoiding me for four long days.

  I blink, expecting to see someone else when I open my eyes, believing that I must have conjured up his handsome face and intense hazel stare.

  I want to be angry with him, I really do. I want to re-ball my fist and unleash all the pain of abandonment he’s made me feel these last few days. But I can’t because all I feel is relief.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I have,” he nods honestly.

  “Why?” I have to ask. The whys are always the things I struggle to understand.

  He turns and looks over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone is watching us before turning back to look at me and answering, “Because I’m a coward.”

  That’s it? He’s a coward. Yeah, well, you and me both.

  “And now? Is this you being brave?”

  “No,” he reaches forward to take my hand and whispers, “this is me being selfish. Take a walk with me?”

  We leave the set separately with plans to meet at the same park where we initially bumped into each other. I drive home after having my fake scars and makeup removed with my gut a ball full of worry. This feels like the end when it never really began.

  Instead of heading straight to our meeting place, I drive home and park my car on the street, choosing to walk the couple of minutes to the park and attempt to clear the tangle of thoughts in my head.

  By the time I walk through the wide open gates and step onto the path that will lead me directly to Isaac, I have a plan. It’s not a great one, but it’s all I have. The plan is to simply not allow Isaac to walk away from this, from me.

  I spot him before he sees me. He’s sitting alone on a bench that overlooks the River Taff, his stare fixed on the fast flowing water, his hands braced underneath each leg. Even from this distance, I am drawn to him. Not just to the way he looks or the way he makes me feel, I am attracted to every part of him.

  With him, I’ve laughed, and I’ve cried. I’ve experienced all-consuming need and mind-blowing pleasure. I’ve shared my scarred soul and broken apart in his arms. But more than all that, I’ve lived. With him, I live.

  I approach him slowly, only a slight twitch of his shoulder telling me he feels my presence. When I sit silently next to him, only a few inches away, the distance between us seems like miles.

  “You came.”

  “You asked.”

  Birds flit above our heads from tree to tree, people jog, walk and ride past us, while fluffy clouds skim the blue sky painting a picture perfect scene. I appreciate none of it. My senses attuned to the man beside me, anticipating and expecting his rejection.

  It’s only what I deserve.

  “I’m sorry I left the other night.”

  “Why did you? I mean, I think I know why but I’d rather hear you say it.” I twist the leather cords on my wrist, rubbing my thumb over the little silver anchor plaited into the centre. The ends are worn and frayed, and it’s doubtful it will stay on my wrist much longer, but until it breaks and falls off it’s my only memento of my brother. I bought it for his eighteenth birthday. The anchor was to symbolise his wanderlust. Clark always said he was going to travel the world one day. Wearing this part of him kept him close and as my career took me from country to country it gave me a way to fulfil his dream.

  Isaac sighs heavily, and I tilt my face to carefully watch him as he battles with his explanation.

  “When you told me about your brother…”

  “I shouldn’t have. It was the wrong thing to share after we’d just fucked.” My tone is derisive, and I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

  He finally turns to face me. “We did more than just fuck, Flynn. Don’t deny it just because I’ve hurt you and you want to inflict a few wounds on me of your own.”

  He returns his gaze to the water and continues, “When you shared Clark’s story, I felt it. Every word and syllable hurt. I wanted to absorb your pain and take it away for good.” He drops his head and looks at his hands. “I’ve seen that level of damage before. I’ve lived it vicariously through my brother Josh. I’ve seen his despair. I’ve felt the ripples of its repercussions. Grief is the price we pay for love.”

  We are both silent while I absorb his words. He’s not making any fucking sense. His answer is ridiculous for more reasons than avoiding the possibility of falling in love with me.

  “So you’d rather push me away than ever love me? Is the possibility of loving me not enough to make it worth the risk? Because I thought we were going to see where this goes, Iz. We’re at the beginning of something, something worth the risk. Besides, you have others you love. Your parents, your brothers, Ivy-Leaves and Arty. Would you walk away from them to ensure you never got hurt?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re walking away from me, someone who hasn’t even gained your love yet? I have to say that’s the biggest load of bollocks I’ve heard in a long time. Why don’t you just say it? Thanks for the fuck, Flynn but I got what I wanted, and the payback tasted as sweet as I thought it would.”

  That gets a reaction from him other than the reserved indifference that’s been wafting from his skin like a bad smell.

  “Do you think I let you fuck me as revenge? Surely I would have fucked you for that theory to work?” he sneers as he leans across the bench bringing us almost nose to nose.

  “I told you I haven’t done this before and less than an hour ago I told you I walked away because I was a coward. I’m scared I’m going to hurt you, Flynn. Can’t you see that? Yes, I walked away to save my skin, but I also left to save yours. What if I fuck up? You’ve had enough people leave you, and I didn’t want to add to the list.”

  “So you left anyway?”

  “Yes, I left anyway, before this thing between us grew and planted roots.”

  “And now?” I don’t care how pathetic it makes me look. I’ll beg if he wants.

  His eyes sparkle with what looks like hope, and a shiver runs through me. Has he changed his mind?

  “Now, I know I was wrong. So fucking wrong, Flynn. But I’m not sure if this was the fuck up to end all fuck ups. I don’t know if you’ll give me another chance.”

  “I seem to recall you gave me more than one second chance.”

  That sparkle in his eyes flickers into a full blown light show, and he leans in even closer. To everyone around us we look like two lovers about to kiss. In my past even thinking about touching another man inappropriately in public would have sent me over the edge, would have sent the old Flynn over the edge. The new Flynn wants it more than his next breath, and I couldn’t give a fuck if we’re recognised and if it’s splashed across the front page of the morning papers.

  �
��And am I worthy of the same?”

  “Yes.” I haven’t even fully finished the word before his mouth is on mine. It’s a kiss that says sorry, one that talks of new beginnings and smothers all regret.

  “Come home with me, babe. Let me show you how sorry I am for not staying, for hurting you and for making you think, even for one second that you are not worth the risk.”

  Babe. I’m turning into a right wuss because that word on his lips sends tingles down my spine every time.

  “Fuck. I can’t. Elaina, my personal assistant, is meeting me at my place in around-” I glance at my watch, “-an hour’s time. She looks after my fitness and nutrition business while I get to play actor and she has some things I need to sign off on.”

  “Later tonight then? I could cook for you. My mum is a chef you know. I have some skills,” he smiles against my lips, sweetly kissing them and scrambling my brain with need.

  “Arghh,” I groan. “I’m on set at five in the morning, which means I have to leave around three so that the makeup girls can prettify my face.”

  “Tomorrow night then. If you say yes, I can wait until then.”

  “Only until then?”

  His breath whispers across my damp lips when he says, “If you said yes, I’d wait forever.”

  And there, on that bench, in that park overlooking the river, I kiss a man in public. Not just any man, a man I’m falling for so hard and so fast that if he decides not to be there when I finally hit the ground, I’ll end up decimated and broken beyond repair.

  It was a phone call with Josh that ended up being the wake-up call I needed. Well, it was more like a smack in the face, but it did the trick and had me running hard and fast towards the man I’d left broken and alone in his bed. Since the night I’d walked out of his house, he’d been the only thought in my head. No matter how hard I threw myself into work, or even my attempts at returning the flirty advances of Alice, a chef with the catering crew on location, my brain automatically returned to Flynn. If you asked me how many times I thought about him, I’d have to reply one, because he never really left my head.

  “How’re the kids? Are they enjoying the sand, sea and sunshine?”

  I can hear waves in the background and Arty’s baby babble. It makes my heart ache with yearning, wanting to be there with them.

  Maybe I should go? Get the job finished here and take the first plane to the island whether Josh wants me there or not. I know Ivy and Arty would be happy to see me, I could rent a little place close by…

  “They’re fine. We’re all fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”

  It’s almost like he’s annoyed that I asked about them, like by doing something as innocent as asking if they are having fun I’m questioning his parental skills. I let that thought slide and try to keep the tone of our conversation upbeat.

  “How long are you planning on staying out there?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “What about school?”

  “What about it? The kids have years yet before they have to attend and Ibiza has schools, they can join one here.”

  “I didn’t exclusively mean the kids. I was asking about your job.”

  “I’m not a teacher anymore. That’s my past.”

  “Are you leaving everything in the past? Even us?”

  Silence.

  “Laura wouldn’t want this for you, Josh. You loved your job. You…”

  “Newsflash, Isaac. Laura isn’t around to give a shit what I do. I’m sick of hearing about what she would want for me. She’s. Not. Here.”

  “You’re wrong. She’s always here. Your kids are evidence of that.”

  I shouldn’t provoke a reaction from him. I didn’t want to bait him into another argument.

  “Stop. Just fucking stop. I am not going to be lectured by a man who can’t even pick a gender and stick with it. A man who has never had a serious relationship in his life. Come back and preach to me when you’ve lost the most precious thing you ever had. Then you can reprimand me and inform me of everything I’m doing wrong in the name of my dead wife.”

  He hangs up.

  My steadfast, earnest and dependable brother is gone. I think the man he was died with Laura.

  My phone drops from my fingertips and bounces off the bed onto the carpeted floor of my room. I bow my head and run my hands through my hair over and over until my thoughts clear.

  I can’t change what happened and return Josh’s life to what it once was. I can only hope he finds his way back, and I’ll be waiting to welcome him when he does. I have to believe this.

  I’ll be waiting for him.

  Come back and preach to me when you’ve lost the most precious thing you ever had.

  I think I already have. Only, I have a chance to get it back.

  The next day brought with it a new set of challenges. After leaving Flynn that night, I refused to work at the Cardiff location, wanting to put some distance between us.

  Jake was pissed. He had a rough idea of my reasons and thought I’d pulled my usual move of fuck and run. The thing is, he’s right. Only not in the way he thinks.

  This had me miles away from Flynn, stuck in a field in the middle of nowhere when I needed to be back at the main location waiting for the opportunity to get Flynn alone.

  Luckily, it was Jake who gave me that opportunity when he called to order me back. He was a little surprised that I didn’t argue, and I didn’t tell him he’d given me just what I wanted.

  Finding Flynn was also easier than I thought.

  He was knuckle deep in plasterboard, having just punched through a fake stud wall. I bet he pictured my face as he drew back his fist for another shot.

  Getting him to meet me also came easier than I deserved but my luck ran out when he couldn’t come back to my place. I was desperate to be close to him again, eager for him to claim me once more. I hoped that one day soon I’d get to sink deep into his body, but for now, I was more than willing to be the one receiving. I knew Flynn wasn’t ready to take that step yet, but it didn’t stop me fantasising about plunging my cock between the firm, muscled globes of his perfectly sculpted arse. I thanked the heavens daily for the long hours Flynn has spent honing his body, particularly with power squats, and I wanted to show this appreciation by worshipping every muscled inch.

  My disappointment was quickly allayed when he agreed to come over tonight. After a full day on set, I’m currently on FaceTime with my mother while she talks me through making satay chicken on a bed of courgette noodles. When I texted this morning asking her for a low fat, low carb, high protein but more importantly a tasty meal that I could knock up in less than thirty minutes, she sent me a list of ingredients, and I grabbed everything I needed on my way home. Japanese rice wine vinegar was a little difficult to find in the local Spar shop, so I had to make a detour to the local supermarket, but I still got home with plenty of time to shower, change and clean up a little.

  It’s times like this that I wish I’d been more like Jake and paid attention when Mum was cooking. He’s a demon in the kitchen; I, on the other hand, can and have burnt water.

  “Once the chicken is fried off and lightly browned, take it off the heat and place it to rest on some kitchen paper.”

  “Done that, next.”

  “Have you melted the peanut butter in some hot water?”

  “Can I use the kettle for that?”

  “Yes, but not by placing the PB in the kettle, boil the water and pour over the butter in a jug or bowl.”

  I turn my face to the tablet I have propped up against the counter, rolling my eyes as I say, “I’m not an imbecile, Mother. I know you can’t put peanut butter in an electric kettle.”

  “You tried to boil an egg in mine once. It’s not such a stretch for me to think you’ve gained any cooking skills since that incident.”

  “That was ages ago.”

  “Six weeks, it was six weeks ago when you called over and we weren’t home to feed you.”

  “Toma
yto, tomato. Okay, the kettle is on, what next?”

  She proceeds to talk me through the mechanics of every part of this meal and for once it works, and I end up with something edible looking, that smells great.

  “So who is the lucky…”

  “Guy. I’m cooking for a guy, Mum. His name is Flynn.”

  “Friend or…”

  “More than a friend.”

  Silence.

  I’m setting the table, checking the time so that I can plate up the enormous amount of food I’ve just cooked and still keep it warm when I stop dead. My mother has never been speechless before.

  “Nothing to say? That’s a first.”

  “It seems it’s a night of firsts,” she retorts. “My first concern is that I’ve never known you to cook for anyone and my second is that not once have you ever admitted to being more than friends with anyone. Boy or girl. So, of course, I’m speechless. My son has found the one. I don’t know whether to give you the safe sex talk or demand you bring him home for dinner.”

  “That ship has sailed, Mum. Dad gave me the whole ‘wrap it before you tap it’ spiel when I was fourteen and he caught me with tattered copies of both Playboy and Playgirl under my mattress.”

  “Oh yes, I remember us drawing straws.”

  I spin around with my mouth wide open in shock to stare at her face that is grinning out at me from the eight-inch screen.

  “You drew straws to see who would explain the birds and the bees to your confused, bisexual teen?”

  She shrugs her shoulders at me and replies, “When you’ve had five boys in quick succession, you can come back and tell me a better way to have handled it. Besides, I got the short straw and ended up having to sit down with Jake. Now that was a ridiculous conversation.”

  At that, I laugh. A teen Jake wasn’t much different to Jake in his twenties. I swear he lost his virginity at the time most boys are still reading comics.

  “Fair enough. I forgive you. Now I really have to go. Flynn should be here any minute…” The doorbell rings and before my mother can protest, I blow her a kiss and thank her for her help. Her face disappears with her mouth wide open about to speak and demand an audience with the man I just admitted is my lover.