He's Back

by Aria Ford

  I heard a child's protest turn into a yell. “Uncle Drake!”

  I laughed and my sister did too. “Yes, that's right,” she repeated wearily. “No, he's not in town. Actually… are you?”

  I laughed. “I want to be,” I said. “Can I come down?”

  “For a visit? That would be great!” Harper enthused. “When? How long? Grant is away right now.”

  Grant was her husband, father to Henry and Hayley, my niece and nephew. “Oh,” I said. “Would it be okay for me to visit, say this weekend?”

  “Yeah,” she said instantly. “Grant is coming back on Tuesday. So it'll just be me and the kids. That okay?”

  “Sounds great,” I said sincerely. “I want to catch up. Feels like a while,” I added.

  “It has been a while,” she said. “I saw you last fall.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. We'd had Thanksgiving at her home in Louisiana. I missed her.

  “Well, then,” she said. “I'm on a school trip right now, as you might have noticed,” she added, taking the phone from her ear and holding it out so I could share in the yelling, cheery chaos. “So I'll have to go right now before Henry blazes a trail up the sand-dune.”

  “Sand-dune!” My excitable nephew yelled. “I'm going...”

  I chuckled. “See you on Friday night, then,” I said. I planned to drive down, which could take a while. But getting out and onto the road would do me good too.

  “Fantastic,” she said raggedly. “Looking forward to it!”

  “Me too,” I said. As I hung up I realized that I was. It would be good to see Harper again.

  When I'd put the phone back in my pocket, I realized that I hadn't asked Harper the one question I'd meant to ask her: what I could do if I thought I'd really upset a girl. I shook my head.

  “You're thirty-four years old,” I told myself. “You should know, too.”

  I really should be able to sort out my own difficulties with Ainsley. But then, as Harper often said, I wasn't very good at dealing with girls.

  I sighed. Somehow, I hadn't got it figured out. I had been really lucky to meet Ainsley at all, now I thought about it. If she hadn't been the sister of my best college friend I would never have got talking to her. I would have been too shy.

  I wondered what Chett was up to now. We'd sort of lost touch since he moved to Colorado for work and I stayed here in Florida. I wished he was here to tell me what to do about Ainsley. Though it was only one day since I finally replied to her messages, it still seemed as if she was mad at me.

  I recalled what Chett had said when Ainsley and I first began dating.

  You're a lucky guy. Ainsley's an amazing girl. If you treat her right, and watch out for her temper, you'll be the happiest man alive.

  I grinned at that. When I first heard that, I hadn't known Ainsley had a temper. I recalled the first time she'd lost it with me – when I'd promised to take her somewhere and then forgotten and been an hour late. She hadn't actually shouted at me. She'd just been aloof. She'd gone all silent and tight-lipped and basically ignored me even while talking to me.

  “So it wouldn't surprise me if she's doing the same thing now.”

  I made up my mind. I'd leave it for a few days. If she hadn't replied by Thursday afternoon I would drive past and see if she'd see me.

  I was going to miss her over the next few days, though. With all the misery and worry I was going through, I could have done with her presence. She brought so much joy to me.

  That night with Liam, we sat in his crowded apartment, the stack of books on the floor having been moved strategically to make way for two bar-stools. We leaned on the counter and chatted.

  “So,” I said, taking a long drink. My eyes were slightly unfocused even though I had only drunk two beers – I was really tired. “How are you? Really?”

  He frowned. “I'm fine, Drake. Really happy. Why d'you ask?”

  “I dunno.” I shrugged. “I guess I just feel weird. Empty, kind of.”

  “It's because the job's finished,” he said. “I always get like that. When I'm working on something big – like setting up the computer cluster at the lab, say – I feel depressed when it's ended. Weird.” he shook his head. “Like, you should be happy when you've produced a result. But you feel...drifty, you know,” he said, shrugging again. “I dunno.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “It's that, I think. I just feel purposeless now.”

  “Good word, that.” He nodded. “So right.” He drained his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Another?” He was already slightly shaky on his feet I noticed, though he was standing to fetch two more bottles from the crate by the back wall.

  I shrugged. “I have to get home somehow, Liam.”

  “No you don't,” he said. “You can stay here. If you want,” he added, shrugging again.

  I looked around the chaos of Liam's home. He was a computer technician to end them all, and his house looked like he was a bomb-technician, and one who had succeeded in blowing up his own sitting-room. Things were everywhere. There were two stacks of books that didn't fit the small, compact book-case. The couch was shoved against the wall and there was exercise-equipment on the floor. The laundry-basket was in the kitchen doorway and there was a pile of trainers under the seat across from me.

  “If you have room for me,” I nodded. Staying here wouldn't be a bad plan. If I drove home I risked being fined too. And I really didn't want that now.

  “I always have room,” Liam said with a shrug. “Just not for furniture.”

  I laughed. “I noticed.”

  We got more drinks and I felt my mood spiraling down into the dark place I'd been trying to avoid all day. I was so tired and now I really didn't have the energy to pull myself away from it. Like a magnet, the sadness drew me in.

  “Liam?”

  “Mm?” He was slumped on the counter-top and he looked out of it too. I remembered how much work he'd been putting in over the previous two weeks and felt suddenly guilty for bringing my depressed self to his door.

  “If I... if you'd upset a girl,” I asked, “what would you do?”

  “I dunno,” he said. “If I knew that, I'd be with Carrie, wouldn't I?”

  I sighed. “I guess.” He looked sad. His eyes were damp and he had a sort of wry half-smile on his face. I felt sorry for him. I hadn't realized they were that close.

  “I really screwed up,” he said. He took another drink of beer and I felt a sudden worry for him.

  “You didn't,” I told him. “Not your fault. These things take two sides.”

  “Yeah?” he said with a sad shrug. “So tell yourself that. What d'you think you did?”

  “I don't know,” I said miserably. “I guess I didn't reply to her text soon enough?”

  He frowned. “That doesn't sound like something someone'd lose it about. You've replied now, haven't you? And been apologetic and all.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I have.”

  “Well, then,” Liam said. “If it isn't that, what then?”

  “Well,” I sighed. “If she'd known I was going to be out of the country, maybe she would've known why I didn't answer immediately.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Hell, man.”

  “What?”

  “You mean you didn't tell her you were going away?”

  “No,” I said, surprised he had to ask that. “How could I?”

  “You mean you didn't trust her enough to tell her. That's it, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I hadn't wanted to open up the long list of questions. If I'd said I was going, she would have wanted to know. Where. And why. And how. And pretty soon I'd have had to tell her the whole story and then...

  “You didn't tell her because you thought she'd tell someone.”

  “Yeah.”

  I breathed out heavily. I was surprised at myself. How could I have honestly thought Ainsley would betray me. Why would she? If I'd ended up telling her everything, she would finally have understood. She would have know
n why I was there, doing something I'd more or less promised myself I'd never do.

  “I'm an asshole,” I said woefully.

  It was all so obvious now. The facts had been staring me in the face all along. What I had to do to make things right was tell Ainsley everything, not tell her less than nothing! I should have learned that the first time. The time when I thought it was too complicated to explain why I'd suddenly shifted to corporate law and the big money.

  I looked at Liam. He was staring into nothing.

  “Liam?”

  He sighed. “You're not an asshole,” he said. “You wanted to make everything work out smoothly.”

  “I did,” I nodded miserably. “But I still messed up. With her, I mean. I understand now.”

  “Great,” he said. “So you understand. Now what can you do?”

  “I dunno,” I mused. “Feel bad?”

  He chuckled. “That'll only make it worse. Feeling bad means you know there's something to change. If all you do is feel bad about yourself, you won't fix anything.”

  I stared at him. “Hell, Liam. That's profound.”

  He blinked. He looked more surprised than I felt. “I guess,” he said.

  I laughed. “Thanks, man. You know what? You're right. I need to do something. Now I just need to figure out what.”

  “Well,” Liam looked at me pointedly. “Maybe the first thing you should do is tell her what you didn't tell her.”

  I nodded slowly. “You're right. If I can do that, I can fix it.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said. “Now,” he added, getting to his feet, “I am going to see what in hell happened to those things we put in the oven. Remember?”

  I went pale. “Please tell me you also forgot to turn it on?”

  He frowned and went back to the kitchen. I sniffed, noting the lack of smoke.

  “Yeah,” he said, coming back. He looked relieved. “I did. So. Let's do that this time. And this time,” he added with a grin. “I'm setting an alarm. How long does pizza take?”

  “Depends,” I said, sliding off the stool and coming into the kitchen as he padded off in that direction. “How hot is it?”

  “The oven? Oh. Three seventy five.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “Half an hour, then.”

  He looked impressed. “I'll set my phone to ring at...hell. Ten-thirty.”

  I nodded. No wonder I was feeling slightly hungry. “Yes.”

  “Okay,” he said. “That's supper taken care of then.”

  “Finally,” I grinned.

  “Well, look on the bright side. It isn't overcooked.”

  I laughed. “You're right.”

  We shared a grin and headed to the kitchen table.

  While we chatted and waited for the meal to be ready, I realized that I felt a lot happier than I had for the last few days. Liam was right. The work was done, and it was good work. We'd exposed some really bad stuff – images that were still giving me nightmares, if I was honest about it. And all I had to do now was the simple thing I should have done ages ago. The thing that would set me free.

  I had to tell the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ainsley

  I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling miserable. I stumbled out of bed and headed to the shower. As the scent of rose shower gel enveloped me, I found myself thinking about Drake and recalling our most recent, most-amazing night together. I sighed.

  Well, it's just as well it happened now, I thought. I'd not had the chance to get used to him again.

  The thought was strangely not comforting. I wrapped myself in my nightgown and dried my hair and took out my new blouse, a white one with little yellow flowers. I needed some cheering up.

  Dressed and ready for work I had breakfast and headed off. The day was smooth, if unexciting, and I arrived home in more or less the same neutral, distant frame of mind as I'd been in when I left.

  I carried the groceries through to the kitchen and started unpacking. As luck would have it, I dropped the new bag of flour and it broke. Great.

  “Oh, for...” I sighed and headed to the corner for the broom. At least I wasn't feeling sad anymore. Now I was just mad.

  I was busy trying to get the last of that peculiar glue that flour makes with water off the floor when the doorbell rang.

  “Go away,” I muttered. “I'm busy in here.”

  I carried on scrubbing the floor, then took pity on the courier – or whoever it was – out there. “Okay, I'm coming.”

  I marched in and pressed the buzzer and I guessed whoever it was must have found their way in, or already left, because they didn't repeat the ringing and I went back to the kitchen.

  “Right,” I said, leaning back and surveying the floor. It was clean now and I felt an odd sense of pride at having got such a small but satisfying task off the list. “That's done. Now where was I..?”

  The doorbell rang. I stiffened. I hadn't ordered anything. So why was the courier here? I frowned. Dusting traces of flour off the knees of my dark-brown slacks – flour has an unspoken mission, which is to jump out and get you when you wear dark clothing – I opened the door.

  I stared.

  “Drake?”

  He gave me that lopsided grin. He was holding roses in one hand and his other hand was twisting in a way I knew that meant he was nervous. Oddly, seeing him there didn't make me feel compassion or pity. It made me feel a cold, stiff rage.

  “Ainsley,” he said. “Hi.”

  “I don't think I want to see you right now,” I said thinly. The headache that had been lurking at the back of my head since this morning was starting to creep over me. I could feel my heart thumping and my cheeks were hot with anger. “I think you should leave, now.”

  He swallowed hard. “Ainsley, I...”

  I lost it.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing to me?” I exploded. “Walking into my life and then out again with never an explanation. How dare you? You show up here, all apologetic, and expect I'm going to just smile and say it's okay? I'm not doing that. Not this time.”

  “Ainsley, I...” he trailed off.

  “I don't want to hear it,” I said firmly. “I have had enough of your half-baked apologies. You go around doing things and never tell me anything and I'm sick of it. Go away.”

  I was about to shut the door again. I felt my arm stretch out and my fingers close on the cool wooden edge of it. I don't know what stayed my hand.

  “Ainsley?” he said pitiably. “I'm sorry.”

  Right. I drew in a deep breath. “You might be,” I said thinly. “But I don't know if that really helps me. I'll have to think about it.”

  I saw the hope move across his face and I sighed.

  “Drake,” I said, “for someone who isn't an asshole, you know how to make people think you are.”

  To my surprise, he smiled. “Aren't I an asshole?” he asked.

  I looked at him. “No,” I said. “You're a well-meaning person. Who does remarkably dumb things sometimes. And hurts people too. But you're not an asshole.”

  His expression softened. “Ainsley,” he said. “Thank you.”

  I blinked. “Why thank me?” I asked, mystified.

  “For understanding?” he said with a nervous grin. “For a second chance?”

  I snorted. “I'm probably terminally insane,” I said rudely. “But you know what?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I really, really like you.”

  He smiled at me. I looked into those brown eyes and it looked as if the sun came out in them. I felt warm inside. It surprised me that my regard meant that much to him, which was surprising in itself. Why had I not realized that before now?

  “I like you too, Ainsley,” he said. “In fact, I like you with all my heart. I owe you something too.”

  “What?” I asked, suspicious.

  “An explanation?”

  I was surprised. “Ah,” I said.

  “Ah?”

  “You know, I have been wan
ting one of those from you for a long time.”

  He laughed. “I'm sorry. I was dumb. Well, tonight – and not entirely on my own, I add – I finally saw sense. And I realized that was what I hadn't done and why you were mad.”

  “Oh.” I raised a brow. “And now that you know this, you finally decide to give me one?”

  He looked hurt. I was cross with myself for the fact that, at that moment, I wanted to hurt him.

  “Yes,” he said, disheartened. “I want to. You don't have to listen. But I want to tell you.”

  “Well,” I said with a shrug. “I would like to hear one.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed, wide shoulders slumped. Then he followed me inside.

  “Right,” I said as he put the roses on the coffee-table. “Coffee?” I asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  I made coffee and he stood in the kitchen door, with that tentative half-smile on his face that made my heart flip over.

  “Okay,” I said when I'd finished with it I passed him a mug and carried my own and we went to sit in the sitting-room together.

  “Right,” he said. He lowered himself onto the seat and he looked down at his hands, clearly nervous.