by Anna Bloom
I reach for the tea bags as the whistle begins to blow again on the kettle. "Want one?"
"What do I look like? A flipping teapot? It’s all you guys do, make me tea." She props her glasses on the end of her nose.
"Okay, okay, calm down." I laugh as I bustle around her trying to get to the drawer with the spoons.
"I went and cleaned Matilda. You left her locked up in a right state."
I wince. Matilda. I’d forgotten during my afternoon with Sophia I’d left her locked in the outhouse covered in wet sand. "Thanks, Mam. I was distracted."
Mam grunts. "You’re welcome."
We have an odd relationship. Always have. She hadn’t wanted me to follow Dad into the police force. Turns out I never got that far, but then still somehow ended up following the old bugger, anyway.
"I am sorry about Dad’s funeral. Shayne’s still really mad about it, isn’t he?" I say as I stir three sugars into Sophia’s tea.
I’d apologised many times before, once I’d calmed down after storming out of LA the last time, but the words never seemed enough.
I made a choice, and I missed my father’s funeral. That’s a decision I won’t ever be able to change—no matter how mad my brother is at me, or how disappointed my mother stays.
Mam gives me that worn smile, the one she always wears when anyone mentions Dad. "He would never have left his mark either."
And isn’t this the truth? Even when it meant missing urgent doctor appointments. Appointments that could have meant he’d still be sitting at the kitchen table with Mam. Loyalty and duty, the two fundamental character traits I’d inherited from my dad.
"I’m going to take Sophia her tea."
"Your sister is going to explode when she finds out."
"Any chance she won’t?"
Mam chuckles, shifting her glasses and pulling her crossword back towards her. "I would say zero to none. Good luck to you."
Bugger.
Sophia’s on her phone as I manhandle the cups backwards through the door. She shoves it under her pillow just a fraction of a moment too late.
Not a great start.
As if she can read my thoughts, or maybe my expression is all too obvious, she pulls the phone back out again. "I was just checking to see if Sarah called, or text."
I hold in my groan. My possessive unhealthy side doesn’t much like the attachment she’s made in rehab. But I know that’s only because I haven’t met Sarah or had a chance to vet her. It’s the bodyguard in me. The protector. "And has she?"
Sophia frowns. "Nope. I hope she’s okay. She’s fragile, you know? She puts on this tough girl front but she’s lonely."
"Then I’m sure she’s glad you’re her friend." I pass her a mug of steaming tea. "Did you tell her everything?"
She nods. "Yeah, it was good to talk to someone. I found the group therapy sessions really hard."
I sit on the bed and tuck my legs up. "Shayne always hated it. Mam made him keep going though."
"When did he get clean?"
I sigh. The truth is going to come out, eventually. "After I left to work with you. When I went with your family, he was a mess. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for walking away and taking your job, he thinks I put you above our family."
"Why did you leave him if he was struggling, he must have only been young?" She sits a little straighter, kicking her long legs out from under the duvet.
"I guess I didn’t like someone threatening a child. But maybe I was also running away from the mess here. I didn’t really know how to help Shayne; his destructive streak is legendary. It’s sad how he still holds it against me."
"It wasn’t your fault though, you were just living your own life." Her gaze settles on the blank wall for a long moment. "That’s the thing about addicts," she continues, her eyes flicking to mine. "They are quick to blame. I see it now. I blamed you for how I felt, I blamed my mum for forcing me into showbiz. It’s only now I see I could have walked away if I’d really wanted it enough."
"To find that cottage with roses?"
Her eyes hold steady on mine. "Yes."
"How exactly do you plan to pay for the cottage with roses?" I run my hand up her leg, relishing the smooth skin. "There are going to be repercussions if you don’t film the last movie."
Her nose upturns with disgust. We both know she has to go back to finish it. I wish I could ferret her away here in Wales forever, but I can’t. This is a temporary escape until things calm down and she gets a grip again—it’s not forever.
"I could find out about other scripts, I guess?" A slow smile grows across her face until it dazzles. "I’ve never searched out scripts before. We could get some sent here and you could help me practise and test them out." Her eyes shine and sitting on my bed with her hair tangled and her skin make-up free she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
"I’m a fabulous actor." With a quick flick of my hand I catch hold of her ankle and drag her down the bed.
"My tea, Blake!" The tea slops all over the sheets and pillows but I don’t care. I just bind her in my arms, kissing her warm mouth until my body comes alive under her touch.
Later when she is moaning about still being thirsty, but I’m spent on the mattress, my arms lopped above my head I decide to tell her. She’s told me everything. It’s only fair.
I take a breath, but then can’t seem to release it with my words as I begin to speak.
"Shayne and I were close growing up, tight as thieves, and well, sometimes we were." She raises an eyebrow in the darkening gloom. We’ve officially spent the whole day in bed, and I for one don’t plan to ever leave the rumpled sheets. "We weren’t always the most honest of boys." I chuckle. "How do you think Glynis at the shop knew you’d wrestled vodka down your knickers? Shayne and I used to get caught all the time. Mam used to give us hell." The bottle of vodka still sits unopened in my wardrobe and I have a good feeling it will remain that way. I’m going to go give Glynis the money myself. I’ve got this stupid idea that maybe one day I will be able to present it to Sophia as a souvenir of just how strong she is. So long as she never breaks the seal she’s always winning.
"Then," I sigh, this is the difficult bit, "There was a girl. She liked us both I think, but she was dangerous. I mean, Shayne and I were cheeky, but Erin, she always pushed it one step further." The memories batter at me from deep within the box I keep them locked in. I won’t let them out. I’m in control, not them.
"Shayne and Erin got into stuff: drinking, speed, weed, anything two local kids from Wales could get their hands on. I knew what they were doing, but I didn’t tell anyone and I just let them get on with it. Dad was strict. He had to be, he was an officer of the law and he believed in old school upbringings."
Her eyes widen as I mention dad being a police officer.
"So I let it go. I decided to do my police training down south with the Met. I didn’t want to be in Wales. Then Erin died, she drowned in the sea when she was high. Shayne was with her that night, but somehow he got himself onto the shore." The call still haunts my nightmares. Shayne’s voice broken and small when he called to tell me. "Shayne went off the rails, got into some major trouble. When it came to the background checks for my police training, well it didn’t look good."
"So that’s why you didn’t join the police?"
"No. I was halfway through when Shayne overdosed. He was so angry with me. Somehow, he blamed me because I’d left them to it and hadn’t tried to help Erin when I knew how damaged she was. As far as he was concerned, I was the reason she died in the sea, because I was the one with the knowledge to stop it."
I drag a breath into my tight lungs. Do I blame myself? Yes, sometimes.
"It’s ridiculous, really. I came home to help Mam. Dad was retired by then, taking security jobs. It was him who introduced me to Sloane, who in turn years later, led me to you." I kiss the tip of her nose despite the wild beating of my heart struggling against the dark memories of the past. "But Shayne didn’t want to be
fixed, not by me anyway, so I went travelling for a while. As you know." I drop a kiss onto the top of her head. "And when the job came with you I went for it."
"And when your dad died?"
"It was when you were at your worst. You were so small and surrounded by all this crazy; every time someone came near you it was as if you’d jump out of your skin. How could I leave?"
A startling droplet of water rolls down her cheek. "Don’t cry. It’s so long ago now."
"It’s my fault you didn’t say goodbye to your dad."
"No." I shake my head. "I wouldn’t have made it back in time, anyway. And if we are laying blame, it’s Shayne’s fault. If he hadn’t pushed me away in the first place I might never have taken the job."
"He’s always going to hate me though."
"Meh," I kiss her again. "He hates most people, don’t sweat it."
I pull her closer, relishing the warmth of her body pressing alongside mine. I still crave her despite the fact I’ve owned her many times over the last few hours. "Can I ask another question?" she says.
"Another one?" I smile against her hair and kiss the top of her head.
"If I’d kissed you a week later than I did, after my eighteenth birthday. Would it have been different?"
I think about it as I watch the shadows spread across the ceiling. Eventually I sigh. I just have to be honest. "No, it wouldn’t. I wasn’t repulsed by you, Sophia, I was repulsed by me. I’m eight years older. Now it doesn’t feel too bad, but then it would have made life awful for you." I kiss her, teasing her lips into my mouth, chasing her tongue in a pretty dance until I pull away. "Now we stand a chance, I hope."
Her teeth shine white as she smiles in the now dark room. "We do."
I pull her towards me again, sinking my face into the tender skin of her neck. "I hope so. I really hope so."
I’m dozing off to sleep when she starts to shake with laughter. "What is it?"
"Us. If you think about it, Blake, it’s a bit like you shagging one of your baby sister’s friends."
I nip her throat with sharp teeth. "That’s not even funny, not funny at all."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophia
And so this is life.
All I’ve ever needed is love.
Fifteen years of misery, and it’s the one thing I need.
"How’s it going?" Blake flops down on the sofa and lifts my legs from under a blanket, resting them onto his lap before carefully tucking the blanket around the two of us. He smells of outside and salty air and my eyes rove over him. I don’t think anyone else in the universe can make a chunky knit jumper look quite as attractive as Blake.
"Good walk? Where’s Matilda?" A thunder of paws meets my question and the air poofs out of my lungs as she clambers onto my lap. Matilda is not meant to be a lapdog. I scratch behind her ears sending stray hairs flying until they stick to the cotton of the navy sofa. She lays her head on the papers of my script which is very much what I want to do with them.
I send Blake my most sulky frown. "Remind me again why I am reading this shit script?"
Blake runs a hand up my thigh, annoying the Mastiff who resettles at no little pain to me, and drops his bottom lip. "Does Princess not like the words she’s been sent?"
I punch him on the arm, it hurts me more than him. "Not funny, Blake, seriously it’s terrible." I flick my thumb along the edge of the papers as if performing a magic trick which might improve the contents. I open at a random page. The trick hasn’t worked. It’s still drivelling rubbish. Davies called the day before and told me he was sending a script from A1 Entertainment. He’d suggested in a pained voice that I read it as I was out of favour with the Stein Brothers and who knew what would happen in the future. "Listen to this," I instruct Blake, and he adopts a choirboy pose, his hands clasped in his lap and an expression of angelic serenity painted across his face. It would be believable if not for the lip twitching. "But, Charles," I gesture my hands as I scan the words, "how can I go on with this shaming guilt, this dirty secret smeared over my skin? It’s slowly dissolving my willpower, undoing the good work I’ve put in." I stop and cock my head to the side, levelling Blake with a flat look. "See, it’s shit. No one has ever said that, not ever."
Blake rolls his eyes. Relaxing his angelic pose, he returns to running his hands up my legs in a very un-angelic manner. "Audiences love that shit. You never worried about it before."
He has a point which is annoying. "Yeah," I counter, "but back then I was letting Davies and Mum drive the show." And hadn’t they just. They’d driven the show right off the side of the road. "I want some integrity." My cheeks flame. "I mean, if there is any integrity left for me to salvage."
He nods. "You need to work out what you want. Who you are. At the moment you have nothing, well," he shoots me a wink, "you have me and I’m pretty awesome. But you need financial security and the way to achieve that is to make choices on your own and be financially savvy with your earnings—unless of course you are happy to live here with my mam forever."
I stare at him wide-eyed. Did he just insinuate us living here, together, forever?
A faint pink scorches the planes of his cheeks and he bends down whispering to Matilda and pulling on her ears so he can’t meet my eyes. I don’t care. Inside I’m glowing like a beacon. This thing, it really is it.
"I wish I’d never given mum so much control."
Blake sighs and closes his eyes. "Honestly, Sophia, why do you think your dad left?"
My pulse changes to the erratic rhythm it gets whenever someone mentions my missing parent. "Let’s not talk about him. It would be tragic for us to have our first row already."
Blake’s face freezes as if he’s torn, his expression finally relaxing as he lets out a steady breath. Why do I have a bad feeling I’m not going to like what he’s about to say? "You know he called me all the time after he left. Your mum, she screwed him over good and proper."
"What do you mean?" My back straightens.
Blake purses his wide lips. "What do you mean? Which bit?"
"No, I mean what do you mean?" If my heart wasn’t thrumming in my chest, this conversation would be funny. I don’t know what’s worse, knowing Blake has kept yet another secret from me, or that my dad had been calling but had never managed to speak to me. "What do you mean mum screwed him over? She told me he left, that he’d decided to go back to England."
"Yep, he did go back eventually." Blake shifts on the spot. "But that was after she’d tied him out of the ’Sophia Jennings’ business." His fingers quote the air, which again would be rather funny if not for the subject of our conversation.
"How could she do that? He was my father, and I was a child." God, how I wish I hadn’t been a child. My life, this circus of miserable destruction had all begun because I’d been too young to know what was going on around me, to stand up for myself.
"Listen, I don’t know everything. Just that when I walked in ten years ago, it was a shit storm." He shifts in his seat, adjusting a snoozing Matilda. "And that was before Davies arrived."
My socked feet press against his side and despite the confusing thoughts circling, inside I want to squeal with the excitement that I’m touching Blake Henderson after all these years of wanting him and missing him. "What do I do?"
He shrugs which isn’t that helpful. Lucky for him he’s damn sexy doing it. "I don’t know. Call your dad, call your mum? Ask questions from anyone who can tell you what happened all those years ago. Who’s in charge here? You or them?"
I stare at a framed printed picture on the sitting room wall, it’s nondescript and bland. I kind of like it. "Can I ask a question of you?"
His nose scrunches and he runs long fingers through his dark hair. "I wasn’t on the list of suspects to interrogate."
I jab him in the ribs with my big toe and he squirms away. "Seriously, Blake, I need to know something." His blues smoulder but within their depths I glance a flicker of fear.
What did he have to fear?
Hadn’t we shared everything now?
"When did you know you wanted me? Like, when did you know you’d eventually have to leave because you liked me in ways you shouldn’t?"
Thrusting my legs from his lap he jumps from the sofa, his back curving as he paces across the room. His hands hold the stone mantlepiece above the fire, his fingers gripping the rough surface until his knuckles bleach white. "You can’t ask me that Sophia. It’s not fair."
Pushing at Matilda until she’ll free me from her excessive bone crushing weight, the whole time with her growling at the annoyance, I jump up and move towards him. My hands reach for his back, feeling the roll of his muscles as he quivers beneath my touch. "I’m not trying to trick you into revealing something sordid, or awful, Blake." My throat tightens and I wish it wouldn’t. "I just want to know this thing I’ve always felt hasn’t been one-sided."
He straightens and I keep my hands on the wool of his jumper, relishing the connection between us. We may have been intimate, we may have crossed that irreversible line, but in a strange way knowing I can place my hand on him at any time is almost as powerful.
"It hasn’t." He turns, his face split with torture until he smooths the creases on his forehead and pulls himself back under control. "I can’t give you a time, or a day; all I can say is that the day I left I’d never wanted any woman more than I did you." He drags a shuddering breath. "It’s wrong, but it is what it is."
A cheek splitting smile lifts my face and my eyes prickle with stinging moisture. I blink rapidly trying to disperse the droplets before he can see I’ve been moved to tears. I’ve been weak enough, now it’s time to strengthen and harden my resolve. "So, honestly, Blake, we need to talk about something. It’s super important."
Super important? I’m becoming more and more British by the moment. A thrill runs up my spine. Isn’t that who I am?
His eyes narrow. "Listen, Sophia, I’m just trying to be honest with you. You asked for that."
Holding my hands towards him in surrender I laugh. "I just think it’s wrong that you know, we’ve had sex, and what with it being slightly above standard, I’m wondering why we haven’t had a date yet?"