Hawthorn (8 page)

“Happy birthday, Danny!” I tickle him to wake him up. He rolls over and smiles. I notice dark circles under his eyes and my heart contracts with worry. I make a note to speak to mum and Jules about the nightmares, about my fears. My bruises are covered with a long-sleeved top. I know they’re there, defying explanation, and I’ll use them to make my point, but not now. I don’t want to spoil the twin’s birthday. Besides, Liam will be here soon and maybe he can help me figure out what’s going on.

Danny sits up and rubs his eyes. “I’m five.”

“Yep, officially and completely.” I hand him a card and the box containing his present. He drops the card and opens the present, holding it up to examine it.

He tears the blue foil paper, a huge grin on his face, retrieving the gift inside.

“It’s a friendship bracelet.” I gently take it from him and slip it over his hand, onto his wrist. “There you go. Now I’ll be with you always.”

I earn myself a big hug for that.

Heather is already downstairs, dressed in her new jeans and Frozen top, chosen especially for their birthday trip. I drop a kiss on her head and give her the box containing her bracelet. She smiles up at me and I notice the shadows under her eyes too, but am distracted by her squeal of excitement when she sees the bracelet.

I help her put in on and she holds out her wrist to admire it.

Mum and Jules are propped up against the counter holding matching mugs of coffee.

“Wow! That is so pretty!” Mum says.

“Very nice,” Jules says.

“I got one too.” Danny shows of his bracelet and Mum and Jules make the appropriate noises.

Breakfast is a whirlwind and then mum and Jules are bundling the twins into the car, strapping them into their booster seats. Before I can say boo, they are driving away and I am alone in the house for the first time.

I stand in the foyer and listen to the silence. I should be breathing a sigh of relief, kicking back my heels and chilling out, but instead I grab my keys, slip on my boots and pull on my coat. I don’t want to be alone in the house.

I call Liam to find out where he is, but it goes straight to voicemail. It’s only nine a.m. There is no way he’ll get here until midday at the earliest, so I set out for a walk. I contemplate heading to the village, yet my feet have other ideas, and before I know it I’m in the woods heading for the tree.

I don’t know why but I’m not surprised to see Sam there. It’s as if he’s waiting for me or something.

“Beach?” he asks.

“Okay,” I say.

As we walk down the trail that leads to the beach, our arms brush, our hands graze and I pull away.

He glances sharply at me and I catch a flash of something in his eyes that both intrigues and repels me. I contemplate making an excuse and heading back, but the thought of an empty house make me squash the conflicting emotions. I simply enjoy the walk. The wind picks up my hair and pulls it off my face, chilling my cheeks and ears. I stuff my hands into my jacket pocket as he takes the lead.

The sea is angry today, more grey than blue. A gust of wind pins me to the rock face as I make my way down the steps. It’s wild and exhilarating and I feel a giggle climb my throat. I press my lips together to hold it back and then we are on the beach.

My eyes tear up as the wind slaps me in the face, and I duck my head.

“Storm’s coming!” Sam yells.

He said that the other day, but I don’t remember a storm. “Maybe we should go back!”

“In a minute. Look!” He points out to sea. I shield my face and look.

I’m not sure what I’m seeing, but there is something out there, black against the churning grey, but too far out for me to see it clearly.

“What is it?”

“You see?”

I frown. “Yeah, I see it. What is it?”

He shakes his head and the sky growls. “Okay, now it’s time to go.”

We run toward the steps as the clouds burst and unleash a downpour that has us drenched in seconds. The steps are slippery. I stumble. Sam grabs the back of my jacket, pulling me back on my feet. He takes my hand and I let him guide me up the steps. At the top we break into a jog. I can barely see. It’s raining so hard. I wonder if it’s raining at the theme park. I hope not, I don’t want the twin’s day to be spoiled.

Thunder cracks. The sky lights up as a bolt of lightning dances across the sky.

I glance at the trees and then at Sam.

He nods and pulls me away from the woods.

I don’t protest. I’m sure he has a plan, maybe another route back to the house that doesn’t involve passing under trees during a thunder storm.

He’s still holding my hand and the contact sends a warm pulse up my arm that I try to ignore.

“Over there!” Sam says.

I wipe the water from my eyes to see a building up ahead. It’s a cottage, I think, with vines and stuff growing all over it so it’s almost camouflaged.

Sam breaks into a run, pulling me with him. In no time, we’re at the door. Sam is doing something to the lock. We tumble inside. He slams the door on the crazy storm.

I glance about, taking in my surroundings. We’re in a small living area, with a mantelpiece and a grate. The sofa looks old but comfy, and there’s a patterned rug and some colourful pillows.

“Come on, we need get out of these wet clothes.” Sam heads past me and through the only door leading further into the cottage.

I glance outside and see nothing but sheets of water. It doesn’t look like I’ll be going anywhere for a while, and my clothes do feel cold and clammy against my skin. I just hope Sam doesn’t try anything, otherwise I’ll have to kick his arse and it’ll put me in a terrible mood. In the time it takes me to think all this stuff Sam reappears in fresh clothes, rubbing a towel over his wet hair.

“I left you a pair of trackies and a T-shirt in the bedroom. There are towels in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” I slip past him, my boots squishing.

The door leads to a short corridor off which I can see a small kitchen a bathroom and one bedroom. I find a pile of clean towels in the bathroom and grab two before locking myself in the bedroom; where I do the quickest dry off and change ever. My phone, which was in my pocket, is dead. Probably water damage, so I have no idea what time it is or if Liam has called. I need to get back to the house.

I pull my boots back on and wince at how gross and soggy they feel, and then head back out into the living room.

“Here you go.” Sam hands me a mug of coffee.

“Um, thanks, but I really need to get back to the house.”

He glances out the window. “It doesn’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon.”

“Dammit! I need to get back, is there another way? I mean, besides going through the woods?”

He sighs as if I’m being unnecessarily difficult.

“I’m expecting someone,” I blurt.

He quirks a dark brow.

“A friend…my boyfriend.” It feels weird saying it out loud. I guess it’ll take some getting used to.

He sips his coffee then places it on the mantelpiece. “Well, in that case, we’d better get you back.” I wait, but instead of getting his coat, he crouches at the grate and starts to build a fire.

“Um, Sam?”

“One sec. If I’m going to be going back out there so soon, I want to make sure I have something warm to come back to.”

“You live here?”

He glances up at me from beneath those perfect dark brows of his. I bet he plucks.

“Nope.”

“So we what, just broke into someone’s house?” Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. I glance at the door, expecting someone to come barging in at any moment.

He laughs. “Well, I guess I should have asked your permission first.”

“My permission?”

He frowns. “This is Learmonth Cottage, Gemma. It comes with the house. I thought you knew?”

Did I look like I knew? “Mum never mentioned it.”

He shrugs and continues to build the fire, layering with small bits of wood and paper. “Maybe she doesn’t know.” He lights a long match and throws it into the grate. I watch as he blows gently to coax the fire to life. There is a crackle and flames appear, eating away at the kindling with greedy orange mouths.

He sits back, hands on thighs. “Maybe you can keep it a secret, a place to hang with your boyfriend. Your very own little love nest?”

His tone is amiable, friendly, yet there is darkness in his eyes, a tightness around his mouth that contradicts his tone.

I swallow, suddenly nervous. “No, I’ll tell her. Liam and I…we’re not like that.”

Like what? There goes that eyebrow again. He pulls himself up off the floor. “You don’t kiss?” He advances on me and I back up until I am against the doorjamb. “You don’t touch?” He reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face.

I am rooted to the spot, captivated by the light in his eyes. He smiles, a slow burn kind of smile that makes my insides feel all gooey. Then his gaze drops to my lips and his expression changes, suddenly sharper, hungrier. A spike of fear lances through me.

I turn away, pushing past him toward the front door. “I should go.” I open the door and step out into the rain, which, thank god, is only a drizzle now; so much for not letting up anytime soon.

I don’t glance over my shoulder, don’t want to encourage him. I don’t want him to follow because I am so confused right now.

I need to get away.

I head off as fast as I can go. Thankfully, he doesn’t come after me.

I take the path through the woods. The ground sucks at my boots, my toes feel wet and icky. It’s then that I realise that Sam must be staying at the cottage, regardless of him denying it. His clothes are there, he made a fire to come back to and he has food there so… I sigh. I’ll have to tell mum and Jules, of course, but right now I can’t wait to get home and take off these boots. I break from the tree line and rush through the gate.

There he is.

“Gemma!” Liam is sitting on the front step. He stands up, a huge grin plastered across his cheeky face.

I break into a run and then we are hugging. He smells so good and I bury my nose in the crook of his shoulder.

He pulls away and looks down at me. “I missed you.” He pushes me further away and his brow crinkles as he takes in what I am wearing. “You never were the fashion conscious type, but seriously?”

I look down at my bright blue trackies and walking boots and burst out laughing. I want to tell him the clothes aren’t mine. I want to tell him about Sam, need to tell him about Sam, because Liam is my best friend and we share everything, but the words won’t come. Instead I take his hand and lead him up the steps and into the house.

We’re on the way back to the house when I finally tell her. The twins are exhausted, knocked-out in the back of the car. Mary is in good spirits. It’s been a great day so far and, believe me, I do not want to put her in a bad mood. Yet I figure it’s better to get it over with now, give her the hour drive home to calm down, rather than spring it on her as we walk through the front door, and I did promise Gemma I would smooth things over.

I do it as casually as possible. “I almost forgot to tell you, Liam’s coming down today.”

She glances sharply at me, but fixes her eyes back on the road almost immediately. Mary is a safety first kind of girl.

“To stay? How long?”

“The weekend I think.”

“When did she tell you?”

I seriously contemplate lying, but immediately discard the idea. Mary can smell a lie a mile off. “Yesterday.”

“And you wait till now to tell me?”

“Sorry.”

She doesn’t look at me again. I can tell she’s pissed by the set of her jaw.

We drive in silence for a few minutes.

“She has a crush on him you know,” Mary says.

“Actually, they’re going out now.”

“Really? Is he at the house now?”

“Probably…”

She shakes her head. “Two teenagers, alone, unsupervised with their teenage hormones. Bleedin’ hell, Jules!”

My temper flares. “I trust Gemma. Come on, she’s going to be seventeen in a couple of months. It’s about time she had a boyfriend, and Liam… Well, he’s practically family, and they’re friends, which is even better.”

“Friends who’ve had time to store a build-up of emotions, it seems.”

I do the wise thing and keep my mouth shut. I let her work it out.

After another few minutes she sighs. “You’re right, of course. He’s a good boy, plus it’s not like he’ll be around all the time and we all know long distance relationships barely work, especially at this age.”

“Do you really hate the idea of her dating so much?” I ask.

Her lips lift in a wistful smile. “No, of course not. But she’s still so young. I remember my first love, his name was Warren, Warren Gunford, and I thought he was the sun. We had the best three weeks… Then he got off with Karen French and we were over. I was heartbroken.” She risks a quick glance in my direction. “I guess I just don’t want her to have to go through that just yet. I don’t want her to be in a rush to grow up.”

“Mummy, I need a wee,” Heather says from the backseat.

“Just hold it for a minute longer, punkin. There’s a service station coming up.”

She reaches out and squeezes my hand, and I know it’s alright.