The Love Left Behind

by Daniel De Lorne

  The Love Left Behind

  Daniel de Lorne

  romance.com.au/escapepublishing/

  The Love Left Behind

  Daniel de Lorne

  What happens when a man with his heart in the clouds falls for one whose feet are firmly stuck to the ground?

  Pilot Nick Galanos is on a mission to visit the fifty countries his mother couldn’t before she died. But the closer he gets to his goal, the more he worries that he won’t have anything to show for it but stamps in a crowded passport. On a rare visit back home, he meets a hot electrician with a killer set of dimples. Suddenly a future of shared adventures seems possible.

  Except for one thing...

  Lyall Turner’s big brother died in a plane crash. He’s been afraid of flying most of his life, but there’s no shortage of destinations in Australia that don’t require a boarding pass. But then he meets Nick and suddenly his ‘no biggie’ phobia stands squarely in the way of a beautiful future together. Now he has to decide whether he’s going to let his fear or his heart take the lead.

  And will Nick stay grounded while he decides?

  About the author

  Daniel de Lorne goes for the heart. Whether it’s irresistible vampires, paranormal paramours, or hot everyday men, he promises stories with a magic trifecta of ruin, romance and redemption. In love with writing since he wrote a story about a talking tree at age six, his first novel, the romantic horror Beckoning Blood, was published in 2014. This was followed with the rest of the Bonds of Blood trilogy and the romantic suspense Echo Springs series.

  In his other life, Daniel is a professional writer and researcher in Perth, Australia, with a love of history and nature. All of which makes for great story fodder. And when he’s not working, he and his husband explore as much of this amazing world as they can, from the ruins of Welsh abbeys to trekking famous routes and swimming with whales.

  If you’d like to know more, visit his website at www.danieldelorne.com and subscribe to his newsletter to receive a free story, the latest updates on new releases, cover reveals, giveaways and more.

  Acknowledgements

  What started as a bit of a fun side project to see if I could do something different has turned into a story I love deeply. I’d like to thank my good friend Nikki Logan for giving me such excellent feedback (now and always) which led to major but very necessary revisions. What you’re reading today is vastly different from its first incarnation—and better for it. A big thank you to David Clark for providing background information on flight simulators and the perks of a pilot’s life. Any errors—or artistic licence—are, of course, my own. An enormous thanks to Kate Cuthbert and the Escape Publishing team for encouraging me in a new direction with this book. It’s been great working with you over the years.

  To my husband, Glen, for being my biggest fan, who gives me the freedom and encouragement to keep going, who tries his best not to break a writer’s fragile ego, and always shares in the joys and comforts me through the lows. And finally, thank you to you, the reader, whether you’ve stuck with me from the first book or starting from here. I hope you enjoy this book.

  To Elaine Liew,

  who shared her stories with me in Biology,

  and who—unlike Rosie—didn’t make it,

  but who—like Rosie—was so very loved.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

  1

  Each dragging step took Nick Galanos closer to his shower, his bed, and a sleep desperately overdue despite it being only eleven am. Thirty-six hours of travelling, cramped on a full plane after nearly missing his flight out of Bogota, and he was dead on his blistered feet. His mud-stained backpack weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he groaned as he hit the bottom step leading up to his fifth-floor apartment.

  Only about a hundred steps more to go. He could do it, even if his legs protested at any more walking. Then he’d sleep.

  But dreams of a restful slumber disintegrated as a drill whirred in the stairwell above. So that’s why a van was parked in the visitor’s bay. What had that email from the strata company said? Lights in the hallway were getting fixed—finally—and today was the day.

  He stopped. Perhaps it would be better to get a hotel room. He needed sleep before dinner with his father. Or maybe he could cancel. Say he got back later than expected. But he didn’t like being the one to pull out of their fortnightly dinners; he preferred it when Dimitri did that. He continued the climb. He’d put in earplugs and shut the door.

  No cables or empty iced coffee cartons littered the floor until he reached his level where a ladder, with an electrician straddling it, blocked Nick’s door. The need for sleep vanished as he took in the vision in tradesman blue. His thighs filled his shorts proudly, while a tight white t-shirt covered some not too ridiculous arm muscles that twitched as he pulled apart wires. He had dusty blond hair and when he looked up, he smiled and flashed a set of deep-set dimples.

  Nick snapped his mouth shut.

  ‘Alright, mate?’ the electrician said. ‘Not in your way, am I?’ He twisted to look behind him to make sure and then back again, a motion that tightened Nick’s gut as much as it stretched the guy’s obliques. In those microseconds of distraction, he scrubbed his face over a week’s beard growth, as if that would do enough to cover up the fact that he looked like shit. Why hadn’t he put on a clean shirt when he’d left the airport?

  ‘Plenty of room,’ he managed to say. ‘How’s it all going?’ Like he knew what was really happening.

  The electrician shrugged thick shoulders. ‘Getting there. There’s some dodgy wiring in this place.’

  ‘You can say that again. The lights in my apartment have been flickering for ages.’ If he were ever home long enough, he’d have called someone in to sort them out. Well, he was home now. No time like the present.

  And what a present.

  ‘You wouldn’t mind taking a look when you’re done, would you?’

  ‘Happy to.’ His silver-blue eyes twinkled. ‘If you like.’ And it must have been Nick’s fogged brain that made him believe they shone with anything other than a tradie’s confidence.

  ‘Thanks.’ He lugged his weary body around the ladder and unlocked his front door. ‘I’m just going to jump in the shower so if I don’t answer right away—’

  ‘I’ll know where you are.’ Flash of dimples like shots fired. ‘I’m Lyall, by the way.’ He leaned down and offered his hand. Those eyes, again, stared straight into him like moonlight on a lagoon, and Nick’s mouth dried.

  ‘I’m Nick. Pleased to meet you.’

  He expected Lyall to turn around and go back to whatever it was he was doing, but he waited until Nick had gone inside and shut the door.

  Lyall couldn’t be gay. Men like that were usually straight. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, unless those muscles weren’t just for show. He hazarded a peek through the peephole: Lyall was fitting the light. Stretching up to expose a small patch of tanned and taut skin. After trekking through jungle for a week, that bit of taunting flesh was more alluring than a hot sho
wer free of leeches. He had to get a grip. But with Lyall due to come knocking in about ten minutes—fifteen if he were lucky—that was the one thing he couldn’t do.

  There’d be plenty of time to entertain those fantasies later. Right now, he stank. He hurried to open the curtains and the balcony’s sliding door to let fresh air into the apartment, then headed into the kitchen. He picked up the pen from the counter and crossed through Colombia on the list stuck to his fridge.

  ‘That’s another one done, Mum.’

  He scanned through the list of fifty countries, his pen passing each name, checking and rechecking that they were complete. France, Ghana, Lebanon … On and on as each one brought a flash of memory—bull-running in Pamplona, snow monkeys in Japan—him with his mother the only constant through them all, that and a tension between fulfilling her dream yet wishing she were there in person. A small part of her scattered and left in the places she’d never got to go.

  Only two countries remained: Myanmar and Greece. Her fiftieth birthday was in less than five months, and he’d be in Greece for that. For the end of it. Fifty by fifty. And then there’d be no more ashes left to set free. But with all those countries crossed out, and the last two blaring amidst the scratches, was he losing more than he gained? Once they too were done, she’d be gone for real.

  That thought was like a sledgehammer to crumbling walls and he struggled to stay upright. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the fridge. He was tired. Lack of sleep always ruined him. He was happy to be doing this. Happy to get out of Perth and fulfil her wishes. Then why did it feel like he was losing a piece of himself every time as well? Probably because it was just him and his mother and a bunch of strangers. And it was hard sharing things with a memory.

  He sagged. Just two more to go. He could do it. He needed rest, that was all. Then his head would be clear. But with the electrician coming in soon that seemed even further away. He’d shower, clean himself up, deal with Lyall, then crash.

  He left his backpack at the door to the laundry and went down the hall to his pitch-dark bedroom. It was like walking into a cave without a torch. When he’d moved in, the windows had been dressed in fabric so thin they may as well have been paper. He’d replaced them within a week, fitting black-out curtains that stopped the light with severe prejudice. If he didn’t have darkness, he couldn’t sleep, and given he travelled at some odd times, he needed full sensory deprivation. He’d even considered soundproofing the walls; something that was even more appealing when the drilling reverberated through them.

  He peeled off his clothes and got in the shower. Blessed clean hot water streamed down and washed away the gunk of the plane ride, the smell of himself and other people. He scrubbed his hair, not sure what he’d collected while travelling through the rainforest. Of all the places he could have gone in Colombia, she’d wanted to go to Ciudad Perdida, the Lost City. Did his mother have a death wish when she wrote that list? The hike was awesome, the ruins too, but they hadn’t been easy to get to. He’d wrecked his shoes, caught gastro and became a smorgasbord for mosquitoes. Not the first time. But he was doing what she wanted and that had kept him going. But was it too much to ask for some luxury now and then?

  He stepped out of the shower and faced the mirror. Shadows collected under his eyes and the fuzz covering his face was way more than stubble. He was close to Wild Man of Borneo status. Carrying razors was a hassle at any time and downright pointless in the jungle so he hadn’t been able to keep his mug clean, even if he’d wanted to. He wasn’t due back at work until Monday so there was no reason to get rid of it yet, but he felt scruffy and unattractive in a crazy kind of way. And with Lyall about to come in—damn, those dimples—it wouldn’t hurt to smarten up.

  He hurried through his shave, feeling lighter once it was done, and dressed. The drilling had stopped, and he was pulling on a shirt when Lyall knocked at the door. Nick scraped his hand through his hair to push his fringe out of the way—he needed a haircut too—and opened the door.

  ‘Hey.’

  Lyall’s eyes widened at the transformation. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked as he stepped out of his boots and entered.

  ‘Much. You don’t need to take your shoes off.’

  ‘It’s ok. I don’t want to ruin your carpet.’

  A considerate tradie? First time for everything.

  ‘Can I get you anything? Glass of water? Coffee?’

  Dimples again. ‘Water’s great. Thanks. Which ones are your dodgy lights?’

  Nick filled two glasses with water from the tap and offered Lyall one before flicking on the switch to the living area and kitchen lights. The apartment was open plan and the lights from one sparked in the other and vice-versa. Right on cue, they flickered and dimmed before going back to their full strength and repeating their dance.

  ‘Riiiiight.’ Lyall looked from the lights to the switch then pulled out a screwdriver. ‘Did you go somewhere nice?’ he asked as he unscrewed the panel. Nick didn’t want to distract him while he was playing with live wires, but when he didn’t answer, Lyall looked at him. ‘The backpack? The face fuzz? I assume you went exploring.’

  Lyall had probably managed to work and talk plenty of times without getting electrocuted.

  ‘Yeah, I was in Colombia, trekking for five days in the Sierra Mountains.’

  ‘Sounds amazing. Just a holiday? Or were you there for work too?’ He peered inside the cavity.

  ‘A holiday.’ The word didn’t seem adequate for what he’d been through. He’d hiked fourteen kilometres a day, gotten drenched in thunderstorms that lasted hours, and suffered debilitating stomach cramps, yet he’d seen some of the most beautiful, lush and unspoilt parts of a country that most people still thought of as being filled with drug dealers and guerrillas. It had been an experience, but even that didn’t do it justice. Avarina would have loved it.

  ‘You travel light for a holiday.’

  What else had Lyall noticed in the short space of time they’d been in each other’s company?

  ‘Had to. Didn’t want to be weighed down too much while walking through jungle. Anyway, I’m used to it. I’m a pilot.’

  Lyall hissed and pulled his hand back.

  ‘Are you ok?’ Had he electrocuted himself? There hadn’t been any sparks.

  ‘Yeah, just … so … uh …’ Lyall cleared his throat. ‘Where’s the fuse box?’

  Nick showed him down the hall, unsure if Lyall was really alright. But Lyall carried on. A few flips across the switchboard and the stuttering lights stopped. He returned to the living room.

  ‘So … a pilot. Aren’t you—’ Lyall stared intently at the wires, perhaps trying to figure out what to do next and needing the concentration. He placed a hand on the wall and leaned like it held him up. He breathed long.

  ‘Are you sure you’re ok? You didn’t get a shock?’

  He smiled but it was one of those I-know-something-you-don’t smiles. A secret he wasn’t up for sharing. He breathed again and returned to whatever it was he was doing with the wires. ‘Do you fly often?’

  ‘Every chance I get.’

  A deep furrow appeared on Lyall’s brow, the tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips, his jaw tight. Should he keep talking or leave him to it? But Lyall didn’t seem to be searching for anything, and his hands were still. His focus, however, was intense. It was like his fuses had blown and he needed everything to figure out how to get them all working again.

  ‘I work for Thai Airways and considering there’s no boyfriend, no husband, no kids, they offer me extra shifts when they come, which works for me. I love flying.’

  Lyall stared at him. Nick had nothing to hide, having long ago decided it wasn’t worth being awkward about who he was, hiding behind vague pronouns and gender-neutral terms like ‘they’ and ‘partner’.

  Lyall’s mouth hitched in one corner.

  ‘What about you?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Same. No boyfriend, no husband, no kids. Just a crazy family.�
�

  No uncomfortable shift in his shoulders or misdirected glance, no weak laugh. That settled it. A hot gay electrician. It was a cliché every gay man dreamed of.

  Sometimes a couple times a night.

  Lyall’s eyes stayed on him, looking up with that cheeky grin again. The formulaic porn scenario played inside his head, and while he wouldn’t say no to a quick-and-dirty tumble with the sparky, he was getting way ahead of himself.

  He must be really tired.

  But that didn’t mean later wasn’t a possibility.

  Nothing ventured …

  ‘Say, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’ If Lyall said yes, he’d cancel Dimitri and suffer the consequences.

  Lyall’s eyebrows jumped and he stuttered.

  Damn, he’d got it wrong. Lyall had just been teasing. Nick took a step back, about to tell him to forget about it, and wondering how much longer he’d be there and was he safe, when Lyall’s phone rang.

  ‘Two seconds.’ He grabbed it out of his pocket.

  Nick read the upside-down MUM on the display before Lyall answered it.

  With Lyall engaged, Nick grabbed his glass of water and downed the lot. He refilled it and leaned against the kitchen bench to half-listen to the conversation. It started easy at first, a hello and an explanation of where he was—‘on a job’—but then he was looking at his watch and unable to stop a wince screwing up his face. He sighed. ‘Yes, yes, fine, I’ll be there. Love you.’ He hung up.

  ‘Bad news?’

  ‘You could say that. My sister’s been in the hospital—she’s fine—and Mum was meant to pick her up, but now she’s got something else to do so has asked me to go. Dammit.’

  ‘Won’t your boss be upset with you disappearing?’

  Lyall laughed. ‘I am the boss.’

  ‘Really? I’m sorry, you just look … I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s ok. I’m twenty-seven, in case you were wondering. And anyway, there’s an apprentice around here somewhere. He can do a few things outside while I collect her. But first …’