‘And then what?’
‘Then you remind yourself you have a good heart, and that she’ll calm down eventually. Yes, you let it slip in an unfortunate way, and far too late, but you meant well. God, what that girl has put you through.’ Shaking her head, she looks troubled. ‘You’ve always been so patient with her. When I think of everything you’ve done for her—’
‘She’s done things for me too,’ he jumps in. ‘Including helping you … And she was the one who painted all those amazing doors in my room, before Dad … before he painted over them. The point is—’
‘The point is that you love her.’ His mum smiles.
‘Yeah.’ He runs his hand through his hair. ‘She’s it. She’s the one.’
‘Then you’ll have to be patient. Although perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to say sorry again.’
He hesitates. ‘I feel like I need to make a grand gesture.’
‘No. Don’t do anything big. The best thing you can do now is be honest. Just talk to her. That’s all. Give her a bit longer though. She’s upset about her mum but I’m sure she’ll come around.’
***
Another busy week passes, and Jake decides it’s time. There’s been nothing since the jumper, and he’s yearning to see her, even if it’s just her shouting at him again. As he knocks on her front door, he’s uncharacteristically nervous. It swings open, and her dad’s standing there.
‘Hi, Henry. Is Jones— I mean, Leila here?’ He feels like the kid he used to be, asking if his friend can come out to play.
The man looks at Jake sympathetically. ‘She is … but I’m not sure what reception you’ll get. She’s calmed down, but I’m not sure she’s ready to talk yet.’
Leila’s told her dad what happened. He grimaces. ‘I never meant to hurt her.’
Henry surprises him by laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know.’ Sighing heavily, he says, ‘I always knew it wasn’t Amelia sending the charms. Ray told me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell Leila either. I didn’t want her to be any angrier or more disappointed than she already was, especially after what happened when she was thirteen. She always seemed so happy when the charms arrived. I didn’t want to spoil that. So, this is my fault too.’
The two men exchange a look, and Jake shakes his head. ‘What did happen when she was thirteen? Is it anything to do with that scar on her back?
Henry looks shocked. ‘She’s never told you?’ His brows draw together. ‘Too ashamed, I guess. The guilt’s still there, I can tell, and I often wonder if the reason she seems to feel she doesn’t deserve happiness is because of that.’
‘Doesn’t deserve happiness?’
Henry sighs again, ‘Look, Jake. She needs to tell you herself. For the record, she’s lucky to have you, and I’ve told her that. I know you sent those charms because you care. She’s my daughter and I love her, but she needs to learn to see things from other people’s points of view.’
Jake feels a lump fill his throat, and nods in gratitude at the older man.
Fleur trots up, and seeing who’s visiting, wags her tail and starts panting. Her pink tongue lolls out of her mouth as she doggy grins at him. As Henry steps back into the hallway to invite him in, Fleur immediately jumps into Jake’s arms and licks his chin. ‘Thanks,’ he says, ‘I think.’ He imagines if Leila was down here to see this, she’d be shaking her head at the dog and muttering traitor under her breath. The thought makes him smile. Setting Fleur down and taking his trainers off, he asks where Leila is.
‘Spare room. Painting.’ Henry answers, reaching for the lead hanging on a wall hook. ‘Come on, Fleur. Walkies.’ Winking at Jake, he pushes his feet into walking boots and grabs some keys off the sideboard.
‘Thank you.’ As the front door closes behind Henry and Fleur, Jake takes the stairs two at a time and strides towards the box room next to Leila’s bedroom. When he pushes open the door, the breath leaves him. He stands in the doorway, stunned.
Leila spins around, her gaze unfocused before it sharpens on him. ‘Jake!’ She’s flustered, eyes widening. ‘What are you doing here?’
Moving fast, she puts her body between him and the painted wall behind her, arms outstretched to hide it. He steps to the side, and she matches him, trying to block his view. But he’s taller and sees it spread out in the way she must visualise it in her head.
‘It’s us,’ he says in awe. ‘The party. The night you …’ His voice trails off. It’s all there. The vast night sky dotted with stars, the rocky outcrop of Durdle Door archway stretching into the sea, the multi-hued shingle on their favourite beach. The sea, the shining moon hanging above its surface. The curve and sweep of the chalk cliffs. The only thing missing is the other teenagers who were there that night. It’s just the two of them in the sprawling image covering almost a whole wall.
She’s painted him struggling in the dense blue-grey sea, one arm above his head reaching for the sky. His scar is tiny but noticeable, and she’s captured his black hair and mismatched eyes perfectly. One green, one brown, and the right way around. She’s holding him with an arm around his shoulders, and is a glowing mermaid with an iridescent scale-covered tail and seashells covering her breasts. She’s swimming on her side and he can see Leila’s painted her own scar on her back, in the same shade as his. She’s added glitter to her long pale hair and there’s a small smile on her red lips.
‘You weren’t meant to see this. It’s not for you.’ She flaps her hands, but he just captures one and holds it tightly, turning to her.
‘The hell it isn’t. It’s amazing. Thank you.’
She blushes. ‘I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. I’ve just said, I didn’t paint it for you.’
‘Thank you anyway.’ He looks down at their joined fingers and strokes the stars and swirls tattoo on the back of her hand. ‘And I’m sorry. For not telling you about the charms sooner.’ Gazing into her eyes, he sees a softening there, and lifts her hand to his mouth. Kissing it, he adds, ‘I got it wrong.’
‘Yes, you did.’ Sliding her hands away, she lowers her head, her voice quiet. ‘Can you go, please?’
His stomach pitches and he feels sick. Lowering his voice, he asks, ‘You really want me to leave? After this? I know you’re angry but—’
‘Angry isn’t the right word any more,’ she says, backing away, ‘now it’s disappointed, or sad. I feel like you’ve stolen something precious from me. Something I can never get back.’ Her voice hitches.
‘It’s not me who took your mum away from you, Jones. She did that all on her own. I haven’t stolen anything from you.’ Now it’s his heart that hurts. He can feel it thudding and tearing apart in his chest. ‘I’ve given you everything.’ Spinning around, he leaves the room. She calls his name as he thunders down the stairs, but he doesn’t stop.
***
As he strides along the pavement, he hears footsteps racing up behind him. He doesn’t wait, just keeps going. ‘Jake!’ Leila’s hand wraps around his arm, pulling him to a stop. She’s out of breath as he turns to her. Her cheeks are flushed, her expression panicked.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry. I was just so flustered about you seeing the painting. I hadn’t planned to show it to you. I also wasn’t ready to see you yet.’
‘Yet? So, you were thinking about seeing me?’
‘I just needed a bit more time.’
‘What’s going on out here?’ His mum throws open the door and stares at them both. ‘Hello.’ Maggie raises both eyebrows at Leila. ‘I see you haven’t taken it off.’ Pointing at Leila’s wrist.
‘Mum …’
‘It’s okay.’ Leila tilts her chin up. ‘Maybe she’s entitled to give me a bit of a hard time. She is your mum after all, and she loves you.’
Jake’s mum sighs, her face softening. ‘You should speak inside. Come on.’
Leila glances at Jake, and he nods. They go into the house and through to the living room. After a moment, they hear rustling, a few footsteps and then
a voice calls out, ‘I’m going out. Talk. Properly.’ The door slams shut behind Maggie as she leaves.
Jake’s mouth curves.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Leila raises one eyebrow as she settles uneasily on the black sofa opposite where he’s standing.
‘Just thinking about how good both our parents are at making themselves scarce so we can be together.’ He snorts. ‘It would be easier if we moved out. Maybe we should do that and leave them in peace.’
‘Hang on, we’ve only slept together once, and I’m still pissed off with you, and you want us to live together? You’re racing ahead a bit.’
Jake stares at her. ‘What?’
Leila blushes a deep red, ‘Nothing.’
‘No, wait.’ He throws himself onto the sofa beside her. ‘You thought I was suggesting we get our own place together?’
‘No …’ She avoids his eye, staring over his right shoulder as if fascinated by something on the far wall.
He laughs. ‘Jones, if I ever asked you to move in with me, it would be a better offer than that, and believe me, there would be no confusion.’ She squirms but stays silent, her skin deepening from red to puce. ‘But I take it as a good sign you thought that and haven’t run screaming.’ When she continues to avoid his gaze, he gently grabs her chin and forces her to look at him. Reluctantly, her grey eyes flit up to his. ‘And you’re pissed off with me now, rather than being the furious girl who ran out of here without any underwear on?’
‘Jake!’ She punches his shoulder but a smile tugs at her lips and her blush starts to fade. ‘I’m not ready to joke about it yet.’
‘Okay, sorry.’ He drops his hand from her chin and slips his arm around her shoulders. ‘But can we talk about it, please?’
‘I’ve probably said enough,’ she murmurs, but doesn’t move away, ‘judging by what everyone else has told me. But that comment I threw at you at the house was unfair,’ she admits. ‘You’re right. I can’t take my anger with her out on you. It’s just the charms have always been such a huge part of who I am, and my relationship with Mum. Finding out they mostly came from you made me feel I was losing her all over again.’ She gulps, tears misting her eyes. ‘I reacted badly. I said some horrible things. I’m sorry. I know your heart was in the right place.’ Placing her hand on his arm, she gazes at him, ‘I … I am glad that if they’re not from Mum, they’re from you. They mean a lot. My bracelet means a lot to me.’
‘Thank you. I really was only trying to make you happy. But my timing was really bad. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way, I was just half asleep and it slipped out. I hadn’t slept properly for days because of how it was left between us at the wedding—’
‘You were that upset about it?’ Her eyebrows draw together and she drops her hand from his arm, shifting back to see his face better.
‘Of course. I hated how we left it. You’re my best friend.’
‘I am?’
‘You didn’t know that?’
‘You have lots of friends from the Marines, and you have Owen.’
‘Owen is my best friend, in a blokey way. But I talk to you about stuff I’ve never shared with other people. You’ve seen the best and worst parts of me.’ He shifts nearer, picking up her hand, the one with the stars and swirls on it. He rubs his thumb over the tattoo. ‘When we’re together I feel closer to you than I ever have to anyone else. And when we’re apart I worry about you. I care about you, which is why when I was at sea, I sent texts and the postcards. I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. I told you in Germany, I just want you to be happy, Jones. It’s why I sent you the charms.’
She leans in to him, watching him intently. ‘So where does that leave us?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You just want to be best friends? None of the, you know …’ She wiggles her eyebrows.
‘Kissing?’ he teases.
‘Well, yes …’
‘I want to be with you, properly. Best friends should always be the basis for that.’
‘It should?’ Shaking her head. ‘I feel like I’m being really dense.’
‘You didn’t feel that way about any of the guys you dated?’ A nerve pulses in his cheek. ‘That they were the person you wanted to spend the most time with? That you laughed with them no matter how shitty life was? That they got you like no one else did?’
‘No. Never. It always felt so … hard. Like I had to make such an effort. None of them really got it about my painting. You’re the only one who’s ever pushed me to pursue my passion.’
‘Then let me show you how a proper relationship is supposed to be.’ Dropping his head, he places a soft sweet kiss on her lips, and her head tilts back to return it. She reaches up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and their kiss quickens. She makes a sound deep in the back of her throat.
He pushes her back gently. ‘Not so fast. I’m glad you’ve calmed down and have decided to forgive me, but I have a few questions.’
She huffs playfully but moves back to rest against the red scatter cushions. ‘Such as?’
‘Why weren’t you going to show me that painting? Our painting?’
‘It was painted just for me. I needed to let it out.’
‘That’s the only reason?’
‘Yes.’ She meets his gaze, but he feels like she’s hiding something.
He decides not to push it. ‘Okay.’
Her fingers squeeze his thigh and she kisses the corner of his mouth. ‘I told El about us.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘Well, lots actually, especially after something she said to me at the wedding.’ Leila rolls her eyes, lifting her hand from his thigh to tick items off on her fingers. ‘She said, “Thank God.” That it’s always been there in the way you look at me, but I was blind to it. She thinks deep down I was aware of how you felt but wasn’t ready for you. She told me that because of Mum leaving, and failed relationships, I’ve always been untrusting. Not just with men. She said I kept her at arm’s length for a long time too and have a way of retreating into my own world, whether it’s with a book, a sketchpad, or a canvas. I put barriers between myself and everyone else.’
‘And what do you think of all that?’
‘I was miffed with her for a while, but it was food for thought and I had to do some long hard thinking about myself. Then I realised she was right.’ Blowing out a breath, she purses her lips. ‘It’s not been comfortable, I’ll admit that.’
‘What hasn’t?’
‘Having to acknowledge I’m a total idiot.’
He laughs, ‘Well not a total one. Maybe just a little one.’
She flicks his arm then adds, ‘I do need to work on my trust issues, and as Dad would say, try to spend more of my time in the real world.’
‘Did your dad say anything else?’ He hugs her, full of happiness.
‘He told me I was stubborn, too stuck in my own way of looking at things, that I needed to accept – however hard it might be – that Mum might never come back. That I had to stop running away, and had I learnt nothing since I was thirteen?’ She glosses over the last bit, speaking fast. ‘Above all, that I should be grateful you’ve always been there for me.’
‘Aww, that’s nice. Thanks, Henry.’
‘He said one other thing, when I told him something had happened between us.’
‘What was that?’
‘“Well, it’s about time.”’ Bringing his mouth down to meet hers, she murmurs against it, ‘And now, I completely agree.’
His questions about her thirteenth year are swept away by her soft lips beneath his, and the warmth of her hands on his body.
***
Hours later, when they’re lying in his bed curled around each other, Jake broaches a tricky subject. He knows he might be pushing his luck, but can’t stop himself.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he strokes her face. ‘So, I know this is going to be a sore spot for a while, but I kind of did something.’
Sitti
ng up, she stares down at him. ‘Jake, no. What now? What did you do?’ Her expression’s worried, as if the happiness of the last few hours might be snatched away. ‘No more secrets, okay? Just honesty.’
‘I bought you another charm,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I saw it and knew it was meant for you. Especially after our conversation on the way to Annecy about your mythical creature paintings. I was hoping to give it to you myself this time. No envelope, no mystery. Just something from me to you. Is that okay?’
Taking a deep breath, she lets it out slowly. ‘That’s a relief.’ Nodding, she purses her lips. ‘Okay. I’m going to be sad it’s not from her, but I need to move on.’
‘If you’re ready.’
Pushing her hair behind one ear, she gulps. ‘Not completely, but I’m trying. So yes, please, I’d like my charm.’ She holds her left hand out politely like a child waiting for a present, the charms jingling on the bracelet around her wrist.
He reaches across to his nightstand and pulls out a small black box tied with a baby pink ribbon. Turning to her, he places it on her palm.
Untying the ribbon, she opens the gift. ‘Oh, Jake,’ she breathes, her grey eyes wide. Holding up the tiny charm, she smiles. It’s a painter’s palette with tiny coloured gems to denote the different shades of paint, with a little paintbrush sitting on top of it.
‘You like it?’
‘Yes. It’s perfect.’ Leaning forward, she kisses him hard before resting her forehead against his. ‘Thank you.’ There’s an inflection on the last word, telling him she appreciates it coming from him directly, no pretence. Drawing back, she extends her arm. ‘Put it on, please.’
Obeying happily, he finds an empty link and attaches the new charm to the bracelet. ‘Promise me you’re going to sell those paintings. You need to get serious about your art. It will make you happy. Or if not, at least you’ll have tried.’
Her face is solemn. ‘You’ll be there to encourage and support me? To pick up the pieces if I fail?’
‘Always. Just tell me what I need to do to help.’
The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020! Page 26