“I love you, Yara,” he whispers, pulling me down so I’m resting against his chest.
“I love you too,” I tell him.
Gabriel
“Well, if that wasn’t bringing the New Year in with a bang, then I don’t know what is,” I say.
She smiles at my stupid joke and nudges me with her hip as she hands me two mugs. I sprinkle the hot chocolate into them and then stir in the milk that’s been warming on the stove.
She seems worried about what she’s going to tell me, but I’m sure it won’t be anything we can’t deal with. If we’ve learned anything over the last five years, it’s that our love for one another is strong. We can get over anything if we always remember that.
“I’ve set a blanket up out back,” I tell her.
She looks surprised but doesn’t say anything. I lead her through my cosy living room and into the dining room, where I pull open the French doors that lead to my own little sliver of paradise.
The garden is perfect. It’s long and a little narrower than I’d like, but it’ll do just fine. The borders are lined with hedges that come up to my head, making it completely private. I’ve got shrubs and flowering plants, and I’ve cut a winding path that leads through the grass to the summerhouse I built. There are also poles discreetly placed within the hedges that run all down the length of the garden, and I’ve strung fairy lights on them so they hang in a zig-zag pattern all down the garden. There are lanterns and a fire pit that I’ve lit as well.
“Right at the bottom,” I say, pointing to the far side of my garden, “is a butterfly garden. There’s a little shed for the caterpillars and a place for them to flutter about. I did some research, so it should be butterfly-friendly.”
“You did that for me?” she asks.
I nod.
“But how did you know I’d come back?”
“I hoped,” I say. “You’d have to have felt absolutely nothing for me to not come back here, and I could tell you still felt something when I saw you last month.”
She nods and looks around at all the lights. “It’s magical.”
“A bit like you,” I say, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“I don’t remember you being so cheesy,” she jokes.
“Come on,” I say, nodding towards the blanket I’ve strewn over the grass. It’s a cold January night with the promise of frost hovering in the clouds above us, but the fire will be more than enough to keep us warm for a while.
Yara sits cross-legged on the blanket and sips her hot chocolate. I sit next to her and watch as her eyes flick over everything in the garden. They roam absolutely everywhere…except near me.
“Just say it, Yara. Just get it out and then we’ll deal with it.”
I hear her clear her throat and resign myself to the fact that I’m going to probably end up having a battle with her.
“I think I killed your sister.”
I almost spit my hot chocolate out. “What?”
She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, looking uncomfortable. “I went down to get a drink,” she whispers. “It was still early and I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I crept downstairs and got some orange juice from out of the fridge.”
“O-kay,” I say, trying to remember what the scene was like when I got there.
“She just appeared,” she says, rushing on. “I didn’t know she was your sister. I couldn’t believe it at first. I argued with her and told her to get out of your house.” Yara puts her mug down and starts to play with a bit of a fluff on the blanket. “She said the usual nasty crap and told me to get out of her house, but then she made me so angry I was shaking. I hated how much power I felt she had over me. I’d made a promise to myself when I woke up in that hospital that I wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“You didn’t,” I tell her.
Her eyes flick up to mine for just a second, and then once again she’s looking at everything except me. “She called me something and then I called her a bitch.” She shakes her head. “It made me so mad, Gabriel. So mad that I could feel myself shaking because of the anger that was coursing through me. I punched her straight in the face, hoping more than anything that I’d hurt her more than she’d ever hurt me. And then she collapsed to the ground and started to shake and twitch. I didn’t know it was a fit until you shouted to your mum.”
She turns her head completely away from me when she’s finished. This is what she’s been living with? This is why she ran from me that afternoon?
“Oh, Yara,” I say. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I hit her!” she says, rubbing a stray tear away. “I caused her to fit.”
I reach out to her and pull her close to me. “You didn’t. Jasmine had epilepsy, and she hadn’t been taking her medicine or sleeping much. Those are triggers, Yara. You didn’t cause it.”
“Okay, let’s say I didn’t cause it. I still can’t stop thinking about the last words she heard. They were my words, me telling her that I thought she was a bitch. It makes me feel sick when I think about that.”
“What’s done is done,” I tell her. “Jasmine died, and while it is tragic, and yeah, maybe the last words she heard weren’t the nicest words, they can’t be unsaid. But you didn’t cause her to fit. You didn’t kill her, Yara. You hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you, but I still feel terrible,” she says, her voice trembling from the tears she’s trying to keep from falling. “I still feel like I’m the one that killed her.”
I pull her onto my lap and kiss the top of her head as she snuggles into me. “I can’t help you with how you feel, but I don’t blame you,” I say. “I’m guessing that’s why you ran and were afraid to come back. You were scared of how I’d react, weren’t you? You were scared that I would blame you?”
Yara sniffs but doesn’t say anything.
“My sister did awful things to you back then,” I whisper. “She probably deserved to be called a bitch.” I wince as I say it, knowing my mum would have a heart attack if she could hear me talking about Jasmine like that. “But I won’t ever throw it back in your face. I won’t hold it against you. I won’t even think about it again. If this is what’s been keeping you from me for five years, then I’ll forget you’ve even told me. That’s how convinced I am that you had nothing to do with it. I need you to understand this, Yara. I need to know that we can move past this. No more secrets. No more pain. No more being apart when we should be together. Nothing.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she says through a sob. “I can’t believe you’ve forgiven me just like that. I can’t believe you’re okay about this. I’ve been terrified for five whole years.”
“You should have just talked to me,” I tell her. “When did I ever make you think that you couldn’t talk about things with me?”
“Never,” she says, shaking her head. “I was just scared, and fear makes people think irrationally.”
I sigh, feeling her thighs wrap around my hips as I pull the blanket around us. “You never have anything to be afraid of when you’re with me,” I tell her as sincerely as I can. “I know there’s still a story you’ve got to tell me. I still want to know what you’ve been doing for the last five years, but is there anything else that you think I need to know?”
She shakes her head, but then stops. “No, but I want to do something about the house.”
The house? “Like what? You want to sell it?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to buy it, and I don’t like the thought of someone digging him up.”
I frown, hoping she’s not going to tell me she wants to live there. “What do you want to do with it?”
“I want to demolish it,” she says. “I’d really like to burn it down to the ground, but I know I can’t do that. Can we just flatten it and then spread some wildflower seed on it or something?”
“Sure. It’s your land, after all.”
“Good,” she says, “then that’s what I�
�d like to do.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Chapter 28
Gabriel
Four days later, we stand side by side, hand in hand as the demolition crew begins to raze Yara’s house to the ground. I watch her as she watches them tugging and pulling at the walls that crumble easily. She has a serenity about her that I wasn’t expecting, but her eyes look unsure and frightened.
“You okay?” I ask, squeezing her hand.
“Yeah,” she says, “I am.”
I take a deep breath as the workers move some of the bricks out of their way. I shudder, hating how many bad memories Yara must have of what went on in that house.
“Shall we go somewhere?” Suddenly, I want to get as far away from here as possible. I don’t know how Yara can stand to be anywhere near this place.
“Where?” she asks, turning to face me.
I want to tell her that we’ll go back to mine, but we’ve spent every single minute there for the last four days. We’ve made love in every room. We’ve fucked each other in every room too. We’ve laughed. We’ve cried. We’ve told jokes and talked about the future. What we haven’t done is talk about the past.
Yara said she didn’t want to taint my new home with old nightmares. I hesitated at first, wanting to know absolutely everything about her right then and there, but I realised she was right to wait. If we’re going to talk about stuff she doesn’t want to talk about, it needs to be on mutual ground.
“How about we go for a drive and I’ll buy you some breakfast,” I suggest.
“Okay,” she agrees instantly. “But only if we can go to that place where you took me on my birthday. If it’s still there,” she adds.
“Deal.” I grab her hand and tug her until we get to my truck. We both climb in, then I slam the truck into drive and pull away from her property. After driving in silence for a few minutes, I lean over and squeeze her knee. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I don’t really feel anything, which I’m guessing is a good thing.”
I don’t answer her. I’m not qualified to know whether it is or it isn’t. So I change the subject. “Do you know what you’re going to eat?”
She smiles when she turns to me, causing wispy bits of her hair to blow across her face in the breeze that flows in through her window. “Pancakes and blueberries. The same meal I had that morning.”
I smile at her and drive my truck through the winding roads that circle our little village. “I think I’ll have the same.”
“What did you do with the Jeep?” she asks. “I kind of liked that beat-up old thing.”
I laugh as I remember the way she used to pick at the worn seats and complain about the mess that littered my floor. “I still have her. She’s in the lock-up near my shop.”
“Good,” she says. “I’m glad you kept her.”
As I drive around the final bend, I glance at Yara out of the corner of my eye. “I was hoping we could talk this morning. Clear some things up.”
“I guessed as much,” she says, not turning to look at me. “What do you want to talk about?”
I take a deep breath. “I want to know all about the last five years.”
“I don’t think breakfast will be long enough,” she says with a sigh. “How about I’ll just tell you the important bits?”
“Okay,” I say, trusting her to tell me what I need to know.
Yara
When the waitress walks away with our orders, my eyes wander all over the cafe, noticing how it hasn’t changed at all since I’ve been away. The booths are still pale blue and the walls are painted white with pink polka dots. It looks like they let five-year-olds decorate the place, and I kind of love it.
I hear Gabriel messing with his cutlery and my eyes swivel towards him. The sun streams in through the window on his right, making that side of his face glow. I can’t believe he’s mine. I can’t believe we’re together—as adults—after all this time.
“Latte with an extra shot?” asks the waitress as she returns with our drinks.
When I look up, I see her staring at Gabriel, even though I’m pretty sure she knows I ordered that one.
“Thanks,” I say.
Her gaze lingers on him for another second before she turns and fake-smiles at me. She places my steaming mug in front of me, saying, “This must be yours.” Then she completely turns her back on me while she places Gabriel’s coffee in front of him.
“Thank you,” he says, not looking up at her.
“You’re welcome.”
I find myself smiling as I watch her walk away.
“Does that happen to you often?” I ask.
His head snaps up. “Does what happen?”
“That,” I say, nodding toward the retreating waitress. “Women staring at you with their tongues hanging out.”
He chuckles and rubs his jaw where a smattering of hair is shadowing it. I can tell by the smile he’s trying to fight that it does. Hmm, maybe Gabriel has a story to tell too…
“Not really,” he finally says, stirring some sugar into his drink.
“Not really?” I question, feeling my eyebrows rise. “Maybe you should tell me your story first.”
“There’s really not much to tell,” he says. “I worked all the time. When Mum sold the house last year, I bought the cottage and started my own business. The last five years have flown by.”
“No women?” I ask.
He takes a sip of his coffee and then shrugs. “Not really. None to write home about anyway.”
“So you didn’t date anyone?”
“I didn’t have time, and the ones I dated,”—he looks at me and smiles—“weren’t anything special.”
“Didn’t you like them, or were they not very nice?”
He nods and looks out the window, then sighs. “They weren’t the problem.”
I sip my coffee and watch his coal-black lashes as he blinks. “Then what was the problem, Gabriel?”
He turns and pins me with those beautiful brown eyes of his. The ones that remind me so much of being in a time and place in my life that was equally the best and the worst. “They weren’t you,” he says simply.
I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, knowing exactly what he means. After I’ve finished half of my drink, I place my hand over his. “I am sorry about how I left you,” I tell him. “I meant what I said in London about how I was sorry every day. I shouldn’t have just run away like that without giving you a reason.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, but I know you’re sorry,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine. “So who was the guy that picked you up that day?”
“That was Jez.”
I see him frown as he tries to place where he’s heard that name before.
“He was the guy that did my tattoo,” I say. “I paid him to come and get me.”
“Oh,” he says, rubbing the tips of his fingers over my bare finger. “And who was the guy that gave you that engagement ring?”
“That was Jez too.”
Gabriel removes his hand from mine and shoves it under the table then levels his gaze with mine. “Were you with him when you were with me?”
My mouth drops open as I realise what he’s thinking. “No, Gabriel. I was yours and yours alone when I was with you.”
“But you had a relationship with him after you left.”
“Not right away,” I tell him quickly. “Jez was the one that made me go and get help. He found a place that was nice. Safe. He made all the arrangements for me.” I clear my throat as I think back to my time at the institute and how lonely and isolated I felt. It was a very dark time in my life, and I’m surprised I came out of it, to be honest. But Gabriel doesn’t need to know that bit. “I asked him not to come and see me while I was staying there. I didn’t want anything or anyone to complicate things. Then, on the day I came out, he was outside waiting for me.”
The look on his face tells me that brought him little comfor
t. “I would have been there for you if you’d let me.”
“I don’t want you to dislike him,” I say, trying to backtrack.
Gabriel frowns, looking confused. “Why not?”
“Because if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t have come back. Ever.”
Gabriel’s mouth twitches as if he wants to ask something, but the waitress chooses that moment to bring our food. I sit back and she puts it down in front of us while Gabriel stares at me the whole time.
“Go on,” he encourages after she’s out of earshot.
“Jez loved me,” I tell him, and he winces in obvious pain. “He loved me like a man should love a woman, and he looked after me. He was good to me. He encouraged me to study, and he helped me to find my feet. He taught me how to invest my money, which really paid off a few years ago. He also got me a decent job. Not the one in the strip club,” I add. “I got that myself after we broke up.”
“So you accepted his proposal and then you broke up afterwards?” He’s frowning, but I know I have to carry on. Even if I know he won’t like what he’s about to find out.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “I realised I didn’t love him like I loved you, and he knew that. We had a pregnancy scare,” I whisper, peeking up at him just as his face falls.
“Oh no,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he rubs his face with his hands. “Please don’t tell me—”
“I was two weeks late,” I rush, “and Jez was over the moon about it. He was the one that ran off to the chemist to get a testing kit. He was the one that had already started talking about baby names before the lines even appeared. That’s when I knew. Having a baby was the last thing I wanted. Not because I was young or didn’t want children. It was because I didn’t want them with him.”
“But you weren’t pregnant?” Gabriel asks, not looking at me.
“No,” I say, shaking my head as his eyes swing back to me. “The test was negative. It was just a late period.”
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