Tumble Creek

by Louise Forster

  The most heartbreaking thing she had to accept was who he wanted to be with: Susanna, his first love, the woman he adored and respected, the woman who gave him a beautiful son. All these years, he’d believed she was dead, he never stopped grieving for her. To find out she was alive … of course he’d want to rekindle what they had. What sane man would want a short, curvaceous, ex art teacher when they could have a kick-arse, long-legged, beautiful woman like Susanna? For both their sakes, she had to let him go.

  She turned into his driveway, stopped the car and waited a few seconds. She hoped her timing was right and Brock was either still in Sydney or at work. All remained quiet. Good. She shoved the driver’s side door open and cursed the loud squealing hinges. To save it from happening again, she left the door open. Okay, time to get this over with. She walked up to the front door, shoved the key in and opened it. She started hurrying down the hall towards the kitchen where she’d left her laptop.

  But Sofie didn’t get that far.

  ‘Sofe.’ Brock’s deep voice, harsh, and demanding.

  Heart pounding, she stopped dead at the living-room door. Hand clinging onto the door jamb to steady herself, she whispered breathlessly, ‘Brock.’

  Dressed in worn jeans that fit snugly across his thighs, and a black long-sleeved T-shirt, stretched across his deep chest and broad shoulders, Brock leaned back on the couch. His arm resting on the side, hand casually hanging over the edge, the other along the backrest. A stranger would think him relaxed, but oh dear God, the opposite was true; his face was all hard angles. With his jaw set, Brock’s sharp, assessing eyes narrowed in on her, the dangerous glint unmistakable.

  Oh boy, she was in deep shit.

  Then he spoke, and his barely controlled rage hung around him like a storm. ‘What the hell have you done? Why the hell haven’t you answered my calls, my texts? At the very least I deserved that courtesy.’

  Done—done! Her mind stuttered. Did he know what she’d been up to?

  Concentrating on what mattered to her most, Sofie brought herself up to full height, squared her shoulders, and let her anger roll through her and out of her mouth. ‘Oh—so it’s all right for you to take off—’ she snapped her fingers, ‘—just like that! Even though you knew where I was, so that wasn’t a problem. Tumble Creek is a small town, and it would’ve been damned easy to come get me so we could go to Sydney—together—to meet Susanna! It was all right for you to leave a barely legible note. It was all right for you, once you had me on the phone, you still had nothing to say, no explanation—none, as to why you had to leave suddenly.’ She started to shake, and damn it all, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. Instead she used it fuel her anger. ‘Do you have any idea how belittled you made me feel, how vulnerable and unimportant—how carelessly you handled the situation?! How carelessly you handled me?!’ Shocked, Brock’s brow shot up, eyes open wide, assessing. And Sofie thought, good!

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?!’ Big body rigid, and fists clenched to his sides, Brock surged from the couch and headed straight for Sofie.

  Alarmed at the level of rage that electrified the heavy atmosphere, Sofie took a step back. It took him three strides and he was there, wide shoulders, deep chest, angry as hell, looming over her. She took another step back, he followed, and without touching her, pushed her all the way to the opposite side of the hallway. Sofie dropped her bag and brought her hands up flat to his chest in an effort to stop him advancing any further. But it was futile. And unfortunately, she couldn’t possibly miss the heavy pounding of his heart under her palms. As Sofie’s back hit the wall, his hands slammed the wall on either side of her shoulders, making her flinch. His manoeuvre had Sofie trapped. Damn. His body blocked everything, there was only Brock, his glare, his tension, his clenched teeth and distinctive scent of musky pine. She’d never seen him like this—never, and it scared the crap out of her. It also made her freaking-bloody-furious.

  She choked back the tears that threatened and yelled in his face, ‘How dare you do this—this macho bullshit with me. How bloody dare you! You’re scaring me!’ Mouth trembling, eyes brimming with tears, she shoved his chest. He didn’t budge, nor did he flinch.

  Brock’s dark, narrowed eyes studied her face before flicking up to capture hers, penetrating, assessing. Understanding flowed through his features and slowly, Brock closed his eyes, let his head drop, chin almost touching his chest, and in an agonised voice, he growled out long and slow, ‘F-u-ck!’

  It didn’t take a genius to know the cussing wasn’t aimed at Sofie, but rather at himself.

  He rolled his shoulders and his chest expanded with a few deep breaths. He lifted his eyes, they were bright, and held hers captive. His aura softened further, his hands slipped behind her and then she was in his arms. ‘Sofe,’ he murmured against her neck, ‘that’s the last thing I ever want you to feel around me. I fucked up—totally. I’m sorry, Babe, so very sorry.’

  His entire body trembled—that, coupled with his sincerity, and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant what he’d said. But it didn’t change the fact he’d left for Sydney without her, and without an explanation.

  She pushed him back. Puzzled, he thankfully allowed a little distance so she could say what she needed to. ‘I think you’d better specify exactly what you’re sorry about. Tell me why you rushed off the way you did. I have a huge crack here in my heart.’ Oh bugger, she wished she hadn’t said that.

  Dumbfounded, his head angled to one side.

  ‘I know that sounds melodramatic,’ Sofie cried out, ‘but that’s how it feels, and it’s bloody painful. And I’m going to be frank, because prolonging this is making it worse.’ Visibly shaken, his frown deepened and his mouth went tight. Sofie nearly stopped to throw her arms around his neck, but held herself in check. She wasn’t done yet. Focus, she told herself, gritted her teeth and went on. ‘You went to Sydney to meet up with your first love. A beautiful, vibrant and amazing woman with legs that go on forever. You love her, Brock, you always have. You told me how you lost her and I could see how much it still hurt you. Then to discover her alive—with no partner—why wouldn’t you take up where you left off … sort of.’ Her brows drew together, frowning because inexplicably, Brock was desperately trying not to laugh. His body shook with it. ‘This is not a laughing matter!’

  ‘Babe, you thinking that about me and Susanna is funny.’ He sobered, his voice quiet, gentle, as he explained, ‘First, all the innocent lives lost would make me feel the same way, emotional and passionate. Susanna and I were never in love … never! We liked each other, we admired each other’s work and ideology, but I never loved her and she never loved me. We were—are—crazy good friends. Susanna lives for Raff and journalism. And that’s it.’ He leaned in close, making sure she got it. ‘Understand, Sofe—lives for Raff and journalism.’

  Mouth parted, Sofie nodded.

  ‘I, on the other hand, Sofe, live for you.’

  Oh God, he couldn’t have said anything more beautiful. Her mouth trembled, her eyes stung and instantly tears welled.

  He cupped her face. ‘I love you. How could you so easily forget that?’

  ‘But Brock,’ she had to make him understand, ‘you’ve said beautiful things to me before you found out Susanna was still alive. Without explanation, you went rushing off and left me stranded feeling like shit—wanting to kick you in the nuts and thinking a whole lot more I wanted to do to you. But mostly thinking, how you could be interested in frumpy me … Susanna is gorgeous.’

  ‘And it would seem a very fertile, very busy mind digging up more shit—and none of it’s mine.’ Frustrated, he slid his fingers into his hair, information churning behind his eyes. And then it was as if clarity hit, and he barked, ‘Jesus Christ, your mother and that mongrel really did a number on you.’ He gritted his teeth, and added, ‘Your parents are mostly to blame, but arsehole cemented it.’

  Sofie didn’t know what to think or say about that except, yes, it was true. But she couldn�
�t say that out loud, not yet anyway. She worked hard at her self-esteem, believed she’d grown stronger, and she had, but all it took was Brock’s lack of communication skills, and the fear of losing him, and everything came tumbling back. Just like her sister Jennifer, she was never good enough. Her choice in clothes, her hair, her size, her teaching career, all of it ridiculed. She did rebel, got pregnant and married Jett the surfer dude, now arsehole, who took over whittling her down even further. Yes, she’d let her head go and fill with crap, yet again.

  She should have trusted Brock.

  Wind out of her sails, Sofie’s legs gave way. Brock’s strong arms caught her and held her close.

  Breath coming in short gasps, she leaned back. Oh God, what had she done?

  Brock studied her with a passionate mixture of anger, disbelief, and disappointment. And then he murmured, ‘I love you, Sofe, and I have for a long time. I didn’t go there sooner with you because you deserved better. I thought I wasn’t worthy, wasn’t up to it—that I was broken. But now I see that maybe you’re more broken than me.’ Out of frustration, his broad hands and fingers wrapped around her shoulders, then he yanked her in close, and barely an inch from her face, Brock continued. ‘Listen carefully. I love everything about you. The way we are together blows my mind, but how can I win—how can I erase the crap you were fed?’

  Oh God, this is it. He’s going to tell me, he loves me, but he can’t do this shit.

  His eyes flicked back and forth on hers. ‘You’re doing it again. Stop it, Sofe. Stop it.’ He tenderly brushed her hair back.

  ‘Brock,’ Sofie’s voice trembled.

  ‘I’m going to show you what you do to me.’ His eyes came within an inch of hers. ‘How only you can make me hard just looking at you. And you know that’s true. Right now, I want to take my—ever—loving—time to make sweet love to you. I will slowly ease my hand down from your breasts to the warm, soft skin between your legs. And I’ll make all your negative thoughts evaporate, same as you do for me.’ He leaned in, mouth lightly touching hers, and tone erotic, he murmured, ‘Babe, beautiful.’ His hot breath and sweet words alone had her there already. ‘Then, me inside you, deep,’ Despite the heavy atmosphere, Sofie couldn’t stop a little tremble of anticipation. Brock paused, then, concerned eyes on hers, he continued on a low, ominous growl, ‘But first I have to consider all the angles,’ and voice deeper, more intense, he added, ‘to keep you out of jail.’

  ‘What?!’ Sofie squeaked, her mind in turmoil. How did they get from his hands on her, and going in deep—to jail!

  ‘Jail, Sofe. You scared the crap out of me, and it’s not over,’ he told her. ‘I would throw in my badge for you, not a problem. Tak told me you went to Sydney. Do you know how fucking hamstrung I was. Could not make a move or I would not be able to help you if later everything turned bad. I have no idea what you were up to, therefore I had to cover your arse here in this town.’ Brock shoved his hands under his arms, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Voice quietly rumbling in a calmer tone, he added, ‘You didn’t answer my texts, and obviously didn’t read them either, or you’d have known not to go there in the first place. You’d have known to drop whatever you were doing and get your arse out of there.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Sofie cried out. ‘Jail?’

  ‘Yeah! Breaking and entering is an offence.’

  ‘But I had a key!’

  ‘I know, Tak never should have done that! And the trouble you could be in, makes no fucking difference if you had a key or not! The door could be shut, not locked, Sofe, and as soon as you opened it, walked in uninvited, same deal—breaking and entering.’

  ‘Don’t be mad at Tak, I’d just gone through a shit fight with Jett and ordered him to give me his keys and address.’

  ‘Yeah, and I said it was wrong of him to do that. What if a neighbour saw you, decided you were an intruder and called the police? Had you been there when they arrived, you would’ve been in deep shit! You went into his house for fuck’s sake! For cops who only have cold hard facts, not your personal reasons for being there, how do you think that looks for you? They’d ask questions and if they’re not happy with your answers—it could lead to you being charged with entering unlawfully!’

  Horrified, Sofie gasped, and her mouth went dry as she felt the blood drained from her face.

  ‘Yeah, Babe, you’re getting what I’m on about. We need to have a serious talk.’

  Okay, it was safe to say she was in deep shit. Head down, forehead pressed into his neck, Sofie tried to calm herself. Letting her go, Brock moved back. Her relief at getting some breathing space didn’t last. He nabbed her hand and led her to the lounge room. He sat sideways on the couch and pulled her down to face him.

  He shook his head and said, ‘I need to know all the details of your trip to Coogee.’

  ‘Takumi didn’t tell you anything?’

  ‘Only that you went to Sydney to retrieve something that could be in Olsen’s townhouse. That you were so hopping mad, and the reason he gave you the keys and address to Jett’s place was worth getting suspended for. He covered your arse any which way he could. Jesus.’ Brock rubbed his face. ‘Okay, he did say that he’d recorded the incident and that it was up to you to tell me, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to. I know Tak—nothing would make him shift. I left Rafael watching over Susanna in hospital and came straight here. For Christ’s sake, Sofe, I was on his phone when he handed it to you and you chose not to tell me anything. Now here you are … give!’

  ‘Excuse me! I’d just had a moron try to blackmail me, and I was alone for most of his insane bullshit! And you were no help at all.’ Hospital? Hand on her chest, Sofie gasped. ‘Susanna’s in hospital?’ Sofie yelled, and lashed out, thumping him on the shoulder, and he let her. ‘Why didn’t you say?! What happened?’

  ‘Extreme pain and nausea woke Susanna early the other morning,’ he answered. ‘She and Raff have a long-standing promise, if anything happened and other needed to know about it, they’d make the call, no hesitation. Raff had only spoken to her the night before, telling his Mum about all of us and how it went. The pain and nausea was different, something she hadn’t experienced before, but considering her old injuries and numerous operations Susanna worried. A specialist sent her straight to the Royal Prince Alfred with appendicitis. Raff and I had no idea what was wrong until we got there. We didn’t see Susanna until after the op. She’s fine now.’

  ‘That’s good, but a simple text would’ve …’ Oh damn, she’d said the wrong thing and quickly added. ‘A simple explanation could’ve saved me a lot of anxiety.’

  Brock’s mouth thinned and his sharp eyes narrowed in on her. ‘One word, Sofe—trust. Now give—me—your—phone,’ he ordered looking very pissed off.

  ‘Oh …’ Sofie whispered sounding guilty.

  ‘Yeah … oh!’ his tone a verbal poke, and hand out he waited.

  There was no point in refusing him, so, reluctantly, Sofie tugged her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to him. Elbows on her knees, face in her hands, and feeling wretched, she waited for the inevitable. He flicked through and found his message telling Sofie what had happened with Susanna and turned the screen towards her. She read it and remorse prickled her skin.

  ‘The same would go for you, Sofe, a text, a few words,’ he muttered. ‘But I got nothing. How was I going to help, if you didn’t tell me what I was supposed to help you with? Takumi had Jett cuffed and in the car for demolishing your house. You needed to tell me what he was doing there—doing to you—then I could’ve dealt with it.’

  Back ramrod straight, lips pressed together, Sofie stared at him, and didn’t miss that there was a lot of thinking going on behind his eyes.

  ‘What was it, Sofe? What’s the arsehole doing?’

  Her lips began to tremble. That God-awful lump in her throat thickened and tears welled. But she didn’t speak, she couldn’t speak about this, never, ever.

  Brock slowly nodded. ‘You know, Sofe, I�
�ve seen it all. There’s nothing—nothing that would faze me, or make me think less of you.’ He paused, encouragement etching his face. Moments passed and he gave a small shrug, which told her he’d given up waiting and to brace herself. ‘Let me guess.’

  Horrified, Sofie’s heart skittered and she broke out in a sweat. ‘Please don’t, Brock. Please just leave well enough alone.’

  ‘No, can’t do that. I need it all so that I can protect you when it all blows up in our faces. And it will, Sofe, it always does.’

  Shaking her head she cried out, ‘No it can’t—it can’t!’ Tears trembled in Sofie’s eyes and her hand went to cover her mouth trying to hold back the wretchedness holding her prisoner.

  ‘Now you’re just trying to be cute.’ Brock smiled, gentle eyes flicking to hers as he studied her face. Then he said something that rocked her world. ‘Sofe, I know you feel trapped. You’re thinking anything you say will change the way I feel about you. But really, the opposite is true, believing in me shows that I have your trust. There’s nothing more important than love and trust. They go hand in hand. You have to have both for a relationship to work. And Babe, you have mine.’

  Breathless, Sofie let that sink in and slowly nodded.

  ‘Just tell me … it’ll be easier for both of us, but especially for me so I can protect you. Please start at the beginning. When you arrived at Jett’s place. What were you looking for? What did you touch?’

  Brock wasn’t going to give up. ‘Okay, well …’ Head down she gazed at her fingers twisting in her lap.

  ‘Babe …?’

  She raised her chin, and nodded. ‘Right … well, the first thing that hit me was the pile of mail sticking out of the letter box. I didn’t touch it. I had the keys ready and hurried to the door. I made sure no one was watching, then I quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves, and opened the door.’ Brock nodded, relief washing over his features; Sofie imagined it was for the latex gloves. ‘The next thing that hit me, apart from the fact all the blinds were closed, it was gloomy and stale inside, there wasn’t any furniture, except for a small camp table and chair. I wandered through and found the bedroom. Again no furniture, the mattress was on the floor, rumpled bed, grubby linen, and that was it. I opened the closet, his expensive clothes were packed in tall boxes ready to move. There were four boxes stored on a shelf above. I managed to pull them all down and searched through them, thoroughly. There was one full of documents, but it didn’t have what I was looking for, nor did I find the jewellery that he stole. Especially our grandmother’s rings. Rings that should’ve gone to Claudia. Anyway, his laptop was in that box as well. I assumed what I wanted would be on his laptop. I needed his password to get in. I tried several, but I wasn’t having any luck, so I took it and left.’