“Better make sure I never let you go, then.” He kissed her neck, making her growl in frustration.
“If you think this is the way to get me to talk, then you’re insane. The last thing I want to do is have a heart-to-heart with you. You can hold me here all you like, Harry, but we are not talking.”
“Fine, we’ll snuggle instead.” He wriggled closer to her, feeling her tense even more. “I like snuggling. I can snuggle all night.”
They lay like that, in silence, Harry listening to Magenta huff and puff in annoyance, while the sun disappeared and darkness filled the sky. Magenta’s bedroom was bathed in shadows. Harry hoped the darkness would work in his favour, the way it had in the mine.
Hours passed as he waited for the most stubborn woman he’d ever met to let go of her anger. It was a long wait. At last he felt her body relax against him. He gave it another few minutes before he spoke.
“Why did you cut me out of your life when you were thirteen, Magenta?” His voice was soft and intimate. A whisper between lovers.
The tension surged back into her body as the question registered.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her tone was without inflection. It was as though she bit out the words.
“I need to know. I’ve been trying to talk to you for years. Every time I came back for a visit, I’d make an effort to see you and you always shut it down. This time I’m back for good, I’m not going away and you can’t ignore this thing between us.”
She growled, but didn’t deny his claim. It gave Harry hope. He caressed her hair with his nose, breathing in the scent that was purely Magenta. He didn’t know what the fragrance was, if he got the chance he’d raid the bathroom so he could find out. Right now, he loved that the scent was unique to her.
“Everything was fine until I went to uni,” he said softly. “I remember talking to you about it before I left. You knew how worried I was, scared to be starting uni when I wasn’t even sixteen. You told me not to worry. You told me that, no matter what, I’d come back to Invertary and you’d be there for me.” He took a deep breath and shook off the old pain of rejection. He was an adult. There was no room in his life for the anxieties of his childhood. He’d been devastated for a time, a long time. Eventually he’d come to realise that Magenta had a reason for what she did. Now he wanted to know what it was. It was the only way they could get past it and move on to the type of relationship he knew they were meant to have.
“I came home after the first term and you’d changed,” he said. “Your hair was black, your clothes were black. It was as though someone had sucked the colour out of you. I remember the pain in your eyes even though you were sneering at me at the time. I remember the words—You’re a freak. A loser geek, Hairy Boil. I was embarrassed hanging out with you, and now that you aren’t here I don’t have to pretend I like you anymore. I only pretended to be your friend because I felt sorry for you. Now you can make new loser geek friends in uni and I can hang out with normal people. Go back to Glasgow, where you belong.”
Magenta sucked in a breath. He heard the pain in it and knew he’d been right in thinking that saying those words had hurt her as much as hearing them had hurt him.
“I was devastated,” Harry whispered. “But I got over it. It took me about a year. Eventually I started thinking with my head and not my broken heart. You were the one person in the world who knew me well enough to know exactly where to hit to get me to back off. You used every one of my insecurities to get me to leave you. It took me a while to figure it out. To realise that there was pain in your eyes. To realise that you didn’t mean what you said.”
Magenta trembled against him. He held her tightly. “It’s okay. Really. The words don’t mean anything to me now. They don’t hurt or bother me. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an adult. The only thing that bothers me now is why you said that to me. I want to know why you pushed me away. I want us to move past this.” He took a deep breath. “You need to tell me why you did it.”
The silence was deafening. It lasted so long that Harry was beginning to fear that she would never talk. That they would never be able to bridge the chasm between them. That she was lost to him forever.
Magenta cleared her throat. Harry dared hope. He stared into the warm shadows, made by the glow of the orange streetlights outside, and waited.
“You are so smart,” she whispered. “Like, Stephen Hawking smart.”
She fell silent. He loosened his grip, enabling him to caress her arm, hoping that each gentle touch would reassure her enough to get her talking again. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t judge. That he wouldn’t hate her. He hoped she got the message from the way he touched her. He hoped she felt exactly how precious she was to him.
“I’m not smart,” she said at last in a small voice that broke his heart.
Although his need to refute her claim was strong, he didn’t say anything. He suspected she needed the silence to continue talking. Instead of verbal reassurance, he kissed her neck and held her tightly.
She took a shaky breath. “I mean, I’m really not smart. I made it through primary school, although I spent a lot of time in remedial lessons.”
Harry stilled, wondering how he could have missed that. But then, their time in primary school had been all about play, not what was happening in class.
“When I hit high school, things got worse. I couldn’t keep up with anything.” She let out a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t read properly, Harry. I can’t write properly. The kids in school thought it was hilarious. They called it baby writing.”
Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled her hair. The pain he felt for her was overwhelming.
“That first year in secondary school, when I was twelve and you were still there, was a shock. I failed at everything. I could understand the teachers fine when they were talking about the subjects, but as soon as I had to read or write anything, it became a mess. I did better in the practical subjects, like art and gym, but even then, when we had to write notes or read up on something, I screwed up.” Her voice hitched. “The kids called me Maggie the moron. They would throw things at my head in class when the teacher wasn’t looking. They stole my books because they said I didn’t need them. What’s an idiot like you doing with books, Maggie? You’re too thick to read them.”
Harry wished he could turn back time and make those kids pay. He didn’t ask why Magenta hadn’t told him at the time. He knew why: he’d been an outcast too because of his big brain and because he’d been applying to uni while most kids his age were struggling with basic algebra. They’d both had to deal with their share of cruel jibes and rude comments. The difference was that Harry also got a lot of respect because he was so bright. Magenta hadn’t had that.
“There was a teacher—Mrs. Adams, remember her?” Magenta sounded wistful.
He had to clear his throat because of the emotion blocking it. “English teacher. Young and pretty.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. She wanted me to be assessed. I don’t know what kind of assessment she meant, but the thought of it scared me. Mum went up to the school, and you know what she’s like.”
Harry grunted. Magenta’s mother did whatever she could to be the centre of attention. If that meant stopping her daughter from getting the help she needed, she’d do exactly that.
“Anyway, Mrs. Adams spoke to Mum about getting me assessed, and Mum refused outright. She said that I was fine the way I was. She told her that not everyone could be as clever as my sister Grace. She said they were putting too much pressure on me, expecting too much. Mum told me later that she was worried they’d take me away from her and put me in a special school. She’d heard about a school in Glasgow where all the stupid kids went. She was worried I’d be locked up with them.”
Harry clenched his jaw at the thought of Magenta’s mum’s wilful ignorance. “You know there isn’t a school like that, right? Your mum’s imagination got the better of her.”
“I know that now,” she said, although
she didn’t sound convinced. “Back then I was worried I’d be sent away because I was too stupid for school.”
“You’re not stupid, Magenta, don’t say that.”
There was silence. Harry petted Magenta to soothe her, and hoped it helped.
“While you were gone at uni, things got worse. Everywhere I turned, people were telling me I was dumb. The kids at school. The teachers who tried to push me. My mum, who kept reassuring me that it was okay to be stupid. That she was happy that I would never want to leave her and go to college, like Grace did.” She scoffed. “Mum’s reassurance was a lot like other people’s bullying.” She sighed at the memory, and Harry clenched his jaw with the need to have a little talk with her mother.
“I knew I had to do something to defend myself,” Magenta said. “I had to learn how to care less about the fact I was so thick. I had to stop being a target for everyone. So I changed. I became Magenta. Magenta skipped school and flipped off the teachers when they tried to push her too hard. Magenta punched the kids who called her names. Magenta disrupted the classes she couldn’t cope with. I was particularly bad in English class, which made Mrs. Adams sad. I still see the tears in her eyes. I hated that look. I hated her for pitying me.”
“Maybe she was worried about you, baby.”
“Maybe.”
“When you came back after your first term at university, I couldn’t let you know how dumb I was. I wanted you to think well of me. I wanted you to think I was normal. I couldn’t stand the thought that you might look at me the way the other kids did, like I was nothing. If the normal kids noticed how stupid I was and thought less of me, then how would someone as smart as you feel about it? I couldn’t take the chance that you would reject me. It would have broken me. So I rejected you first.” She took a deep breath. “It was the right thing to do. We’re worlds apart. You’re a genius with a business that earns millions. You can hold your own with governments, academics and security specialists. You’re smart, kind, funny and confident. And you can kick ass with the best of them.
“I work in a lingerie shop. I never finished school. I don’t have an email account, or text people, because I can’t read and write properly. I’ve never read a book all the way through because the words jump around and it takes me a day to read a page. I struggle reading maps, signs and instructions on medication. I’m not funny, kind or confident. I pretend to be. Mostly I’m just prickly. I know, deep inside, with an unshakeable certainty, that I am not as clever as the people around me and that I’ll be ashamed when they find out. All of my energy goes into hiding who I really am—the stupid girl. The one that can’t even fill in a form. Even the twins don’t know how dumb I am.”
She wriggled in his arms and Harry let her turn. She lay on her back beside him, looking up at him. “You understand, don’t you? A relationship between us would never work. You would get bored being with someone like me. You’d get frustrated because I couldn’t keep up with you intellectually, or you’ll become embarrassed because I can’t do the basic stuff other people can do. Do you see why I told you to leave me alone all those years ago? Do you understand why nothing has changed?” She shook her head. “No, some things have changed. You’re even smarter, and now you’re sexy and respected too. But I’m still the same. I’m still here. In town. Wearing black and cheesing people off. You need to go back to London where you belong.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “And please take Executive Barbie with you. The town isn’t ready for her.”
Harry attempted a smile at her joke about Rachel. He gently brushed her hair back from her face, then caressed her cheek. It would be so easy to fall into those wide honey eyes of hers. So beautiful. So fragile. Although she’d beat him up if he told her so.
His voice cracked when he spoke. “You’re not stupid, dumb, dull, thick or even a moron. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You’re talented and skilled.” He kissed the end of her nose and watched as unshed tears pooled in her eyes, making them sparkle. “There’s a written test for becoming a caving leader, isn’t there? That’s why you haven’t taken the exam.”
She bit her bottom lip as she nodded.
“Oh, baby.” Harry wrapped her in his arms and felt his heart ease as she wound hers around his waist.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you, Harry?” she whispered against his neck. Her fear was like a knife to his gut.
Harry leaned up on his elbow to look down into her gorgeous face. She took his breath away. He gently caressed her cheek.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said softly. “You aren’t stupid. You’ve had a lot to deal with and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you get through it.”
One lone tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.
“Magenta.” Harry pressed his nose to hers. “You’re perfect the way you are. Nothing could make me think less of you. Nothing.” He leaned back to look in her eyes. “You’ve got to know I love you, baby.” Her breath hitched. He saw a flicker of hope before she masked it. “I do. I love you exactly as you are.”
She started to shake her head. Denying his words.
“Sh.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Don’t think about it. You don’t have to say anything. Nothing you can say, or do, will change how I feel anyway. I came back for you, Magenta. I might be years too late, but I came back. And I do love you. Believe that. I do love you.”
He lay on his back and pulled Magenta into his arms, where he held her close. For a long time they lay like that, listening to the silence, watching the shadows, until he felt Magenta fall asleep. Harry kissed the top of her head.
He’d help Magenta see that she was nothing like she’d described.
She was perfect.
And she was his.
18
Magenta woke to find herself alone in bed and her clothing gone. She was dressed only in her underwear and had no recollection of taking her clothes off. Harry. She’d been so worn out after their chat that she’d slept like the dead. She groaned at the ceiling, wondering where he was now and feeling grateful that he’d left her with underwear.
The room tilted as she turned towards the clock by her bed. She had a hangover. An emotion hangover, which was the worst kind, because you still remembered every traumatic thing you did or said to get it. She glanced at the time, relieved to find that she had an hour before she was due at work.
The door was kicked open and a grinning Harry entered carrying a tray loaded with food. “I made breakfast.”
His smile had a daze-inducing effect on her sanity. He was dressed in yesterday’s jeans, but his feet and chest were bare. Magenta snatched the sheet and pulled it up to under her chin, making Harry laugh.
At the sight of him, memories of his whispered words from the night before flooded her mind. He’d said he loved her. It didn’t feel real. She wasn’t convinced she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.
“What’s with all the vegan stuff in the fridge?” He placed the tray on the bed beside her.
His words brought her back to the present.
“Megan’s latest health kick.” Magenta eyed the food. There was toast, a variety of spreads, eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms and potatoes. “How many people are you feeding?”
“Just us.” He winked at her before handing her a plate loaded with food.
Magenta reached for the coffee and was grateful to find that it was mud thick. Exactly the way she liked it. She eyed Harry thoughtfully, feeling slightly nervous that they were hanging out half naked in her bedroom. Not that her body had a problem with this. No, her body wanted to rub against Harry’s chest, to feel the muscles and sprinkling of hair against her skin. Her body wanted Harry’s huge, skilled hands dancing over her. Her body wanted to be licked, and kissed, and touched. It took a great deal of effort to get her body to shut up.
She opened her mouth to thank Harry for the food and tell him to clear out. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what came out. “How often do you work out?” she said instead.
She felt the blush heat her cheeks. He had way more than the two-pack he’d claimed in the mine. There were at least six well-defined muscles decorating his stomach. His biceps were firm enough to bite, but it was his wide shoulders that made her shudder. She was a sucker for a broad-shouldered man.
“Every day,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Otherwise I’d spend 24/7 sitting at my computer and have a backside like Jabba the Hutt. Plus you don’t want to be unfit and fight. MMA is gruelling. You need to be on top of your game physically as well as mentally—even when you’re an amateur.”
She thought about that as she nibbled on some toast. “Let me get this right. You compete at mixed martial arts, you run a company, you are the UK expert in security-based programming and you go rock climbing when you have free time.” For some reason, all of that irritated her. “I hate to tell you, Harry, but your life screams overachiever. Are you good at everything you do?”
His eyes grew dark. “How about you find out the answer to that for yourself?”
Magenta swallowed hard as her body started screaming at her again. Her body had needs, it told her. Harry could satisfy those needs. Harry was good at everything. Her body was convinced he’d be very good at satisfying her. Magenta frowned at herself. She didn’t have time to lust after Harry. There were things to be said.
“Harry, about what you said last night?” She couldn’t seem to make any more words come out of her mouth.
His eyes twinkled. “I wondered how long it would take you to freak out about that.”
She scowled at him. “I wanted you to know that I know you didn’t mean it. That you were just comforting me after…after everything I told you. I wanted you to know that I’m okay with you not meaning it. People say things in the heat of the moment. I understand that.”
His eyes went wide. “You think I told you I love you to make you feel better?”
She nodded. She couldn’t think of another reason he might say it. He wiped a hand over his face.
“Those freaks from your past really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella Page 10