Jilted (31 page)

Then he reminded himself where he was and how inappropriate these thoughts were. Ellie sniffed, and he braced himself for tears, the tears of which she’d no doubt cry rivers.

But she didn’t cry. Instead, the pair stayed in the visitor room, simply holding each other, his hand on the back of her head, for what seemed like an hour. So many thoughts ran through Flynn’s mind in that time, and not all of them were sensible. Each moment being this close to Ellie felt excruciating, both physically and emotionally.

‘Thank you Flynn.’ Her almost formal words came out of the blue, startling him. She eased herself out of his embrace. Her eyes were still dry.

‘Don’t thank me.’ They stood staring at each other. He was still searching for the words that would make things better. ‘What
happens now?’ he asked eventually, not entirely sure what he was referring to.

She swallowed, cleared her throat and spoke. ‘I’ll collect Mat’s things, I guess. Then go home, start making calls, let her friends and family know.’

‘Okay.’

He worried that she wasn’t crying – she appeared so completely detached – but perhaps that was normal following a loved one’s death. By the time he’d arrived home after his father’s death, his mother, Lucy and Gran were almost drowning in their tears. It was hard to know what was normal, and he imagined Ellie was similarly confused. He wished Ellie wasn’t the one who had to make the calls, but then again, maybe having something to occupy her would be good.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. ‘You don’t have to.’

He took her hands in his and looked down into her tired eyes. ‘I know I don’t have to.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

Not caring what anyone thought, but wanting Ellie to know he was there for her one hundred percent, he took her hand. They walked out into the corridor, where Lauren and the other nurse looked up from the desk. As he met their eyes, they quickly looked away. He wanted to get Ellie out of there fast, away from enquiring eyes. They approached the desk, Flynn ready and willing to speak on Ellie’s behalf, but she was a picture of calm and control.

‘Is there anything you need me to do, or can I just fetch Mat’s things?’

Lauren shook her head and tried to smile. ‘No. If the doctor needs you to sign anything, she’ll come and see you tomorrow. Or the next day.’ She paused. ‘I’m really sorry, Ellie.’

‘Thanks,’ Ellie replied civilly.

Flynn watched as she cleared the room of Mat’s few possessions: a photo of Ellie and Mat, a couple of puzzle books, library books, pyjamas, socks. Ellie put them all in a big, green garbage bag as if she were just taking them down for dusting.

‘Let’s go.’

She moved as if in a trance. Flynn wasn’t sure how to snap her out of it, or if that were a good idea, but he didn’t want her to be alone like this. He took the bag from her as they left the hospital.

‘How’s the farm?’ she asked as they crossed the car park.

The farm?
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Our sale was a huge success and we’ve got more lambs on the way than ever.’ It felt bizarre to be discussing work, and he wondered if he should make Ellie talk about the elephant in the room. He decided to give it time. ‘I really can’t be a complaining cocky this year.’

She gave a half-hearted chuckle. ‘That’s great.’

They arrived at the cars. ‘Are you okay to drive?’ he asked.

‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

He frowned. This wasn’t going how he’d imagined it at all. ‘Okay then, I’ll follow you.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled as if he’d just offered to make her a cup of tea.

Once on the road, Flynn mulled over the fact that he had no idea how you were supposed to act around someone who was grieving, didn’t know what to say or do to help them process everything. He contemplated calling his mum, but annihilated the thought immediately. As far as Karina knew, he wasn’t talking to – much less comforting – Ellie, and he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. Hell, if his mum found out she might even turn up at Mat’s place to keep an eye on things. And if Flynn knew only one thing about grief, it was that Ellie wouldn’t want many visitors right now. Especially not his mother. She might not even want him, but something told him not to leave her just yet.

She turned into the drive in front of him and he parked behind her. He took in the sight of the cottage with its purple walls, red roof and yellow awnings. What would happen to it now? Would Ellie sell it? He couldn’t imagine anyone but eccentric old Matilda Thompson living in it.

When he stepped into the hallway the place already felt odd, like he were entering someone’s private space without permission. His eyes skittered about the living room. When he’d dropped in on Ellie a few days ago, he’d noticed the half-packed boxes, the knick-knacks and souvenirs already cleared away. But it had still been a home then, the walls and floors and everything between had still told a story about the amazing woman that lived there. Now, the house felt cold and empty. And if this was what he felt, he could only imagine the desolation Ellie was experiencing.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she announced, dumping her keys in the leaf-shaped bowl on the side table. ‘And you must be hungry. There are a hundred different casseroles in the freezer. What do you fancy? Chicken? Beef? Lamb?’

‘Els.’ He stepped in front of her, blocking the way to the kitchen. ‘You don’t need to feed me. Why don’t you go sit down, I’ll get us a bite to eat.’

‘No.’ She flicked his hand away. ‘I’m quite capable of heating up a meal.’

He wasn’t saying otherwise, he thought, but refrained from pressing the point. Her eyes were wild, as if she might fly off the handle at any moment. He held up his hands and backed away. ‘Suit yourself.’

Leaving Ellie to the food, Flynn pottered around the living room, taking in Matilda’s remaining paraphernalia. He looked at some things and picked up others, trying to remember if she’d told him the stories behind each of them.
She’d been around, that old duck
, and she had some seriously cool stuff to show for it. He hated to
think of Ellie sorting through it all on her own, but who else would know what was gold and what was junk? Hopefully Joyce or one of Mat’s other friends would lump in.

Geez
. He paused, his hand wrapped around a vase in the shape of a naked woman.
She really was gone
. His throat thickened as he tried to imagine Hope Junction without Matilda. She’d come to the town when he was just a child and had been a whirlwind of activity ever since. There wasn’t a local charity or group that Mat wasn’t a member of. She’d even led the Boy Scouts at one stage, and he recalled sitting round the campfire, Matilda telling more poo jokes than any of the boys. A tear trickled down his cheek. No, he thought. He had to stay strong for Ellie. As he wiped the back of his hand against his eyes, a colossal crash came from the kitchen.

Flynn almost dropped the naked woman. Swearing, he laid her down on the coffee table and hurried into the other room.

Ellie stood, frozen, peering down at a mess of shattered china. He could only just recognise the pieces as belonging to Mat’s teapot collection. She raised her head, her eyes wide and glistening as she spoke. ‘I wanted these,’ she said. ‘Out of all her treasures, these were the ones she loved most.’

He stepped towards her. ‘There’s still plenty more,’ he offered, but the moment the words came out he knew they were the wrong ones, dammit.

She shook her head, her hand covering her mouth. He couldn’t tell whether she was about to be sick or just trying to stop the flood of emotion. ‘I’m such a clumsy fool,’ she said, and then it happened. The tears he’d been anxiously waiting for fell like a winter storm. Harsh, messy, unforgiving.

The microwave pinged. They both ignored the tantalising aromas drifting through the cracks around the door.

‘You’re not a fool,’ he consoled. ‘Anything but. Come here.’ He met her halfway across the kitchen. She came willingly, accepted his
embrace. If anyone were the fool, he thought, it was him, because right now, standing so close you couldn’t slide a ruler between them, he wanted her. Bad. And he felt terrible for it.

Ellie let Flynn lead her into the living room where he gently eased her onto the couch. Her head fell against his hard shoulder, which was anything but uncomfortable. She watched her tears splash down onto his jumper, unable to stop them, unable to care. All she could think about was Matilda. All the things she wanted to say but she’d never have the chance to.

Flynn put his hand on her back, rubbing the heel of his palm in tiny circles. Although it was platonic, she felt sparks of awareness shooting down her spine and lingering in parts of her that hadn’t seen a spark in years. She stiffened, so minutely that he didn’t seem to notice, not because she didn’t like the feel of his touch – the complete opposite, in fact – but because his attentions were taking her mind away from where they’d been. Away from Mat.

What kind of a daughter, what kind of a friend did that make her, if she could be so easily led astray? And when, as far as she knew, Flynn wasn’t even aware of the effect of his actions? He was just being Flynn. Kind-hearted, always-there-for-a-friend-in-a-crisis Flynn. He said she wasn’t a fool but he was wrong. She’d let herself be taken from him by one cowardly decision. And that made her the most foolish person she knew.

She looked up and twisted her head so she was gazing into his sea-green eyes. He looked back as if he too were lost in serious contemplation. Without thinking, she raised her hand and palmed the stubble on his jaw. Rough as sandpaper, she could run her fingers over his face all day and never tire of it.

‘You’re beautiful, Flynn Quartermaine.’

‘Don’t, Ellie,’ his voice warned, but it wasn’t irritation she saw in his eyes. A muscle twitched in his throat; she had muscles twitching all over her body.

‘But it’s true.’ Boldly, she crept her fingers up his face and into his mussed-up hair. A moan escaped her lips. He echoed it, his eyes closing and his head rolling back against the couch. She took the opportunity, moving quickly to straddle him. He opened his eyes and before he had the chance to voice any opposition, she pressed her lips against his. And kissed him.

Hard. Deep. Aggressively. Gently. Imaginatively. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t make up her mind. His lips were divine, too fabulous.

But the best damn thing was that he kissed her back. Wholeheartedly. Roughly. Lovingly. As their tongues entwined, his fingers slipped through her hair, drawing her closer to him. Deepening their kiss even more.

Once upon a time they’d been able to make out like this for hours, but right now she wanted more. Emotionally exhausted, physically wrung out, mentally drained, she wanted something that would help her forget all else. If there really were such a thing as right and wrong, then being with Flynn would definitely be categorised as the latter, but losing Mat had given her a different perspective. Life could be short. If she lost hers tomorrow, she didn’t want it to be with any regrets.

Her cheeks flushed, her body sweltered. She broke her connection with Flynn just long enough to peel her sweater over her head. The expression on his face gave her all the encouragement she needed.

She climbed off him, stood up and smiled, offering her hand. For a brief moment, he hesitated. Staring at her hand but not making a move with his. He hauled in a breath, running his fingers through his already tousled hair before placing them in her palm.

Her heart lifted. She grasped his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom where she’d lost her virginity. To him. He stopped at
the door and glanced around. She hadn’t changed anything since she’d returned, so it still looked much the same as when she’d left, ten years ago – aside from the wedding dress, of course. She shuddered at the thought of him seeing it and sent up a prayer of thanks when she saw that the wardrobe was closed.

Not wanting to think about her bedroom, or the past, or the future for that matter, she turned back to Flynn and stepped close. Fingering the bottom of his jumper, she lifted it up over his head. He didn’t help but neither did he struggle. Underneath he wore a simple, tight black tee. She inhaled and held her breath at the sight of his muscled torso.

‘Don’t just look,’ he whispered, his eyes glazed and dreamy. She knew then that he wanted this as much as she did. To hell with the consequences.

She slid her hands around his back and under his shirt. He sucked in air at her touch – she guessed her hands must feel like icicles against his burning skin.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said gruffly, leaning down and capturing her mouth. Where she’d been the instigator up until now, he suddenly became the assertive one. And if she’d ever been kissed like this before, she couldn’t recall. It was how two lovers would kiss in the middle of a bushfire, breathless and urgent, desperate to hold on to a forever they might not have.

And then Ellie couldn’t think anymore.

Flynn walked her backwards till her knees hit the single bed and she tumbled onto the ancient mattress, almost drowning in an abundance of cushions. One by one he threw them off, staring down at her with a ravenous look in his eyes. Still fully clothed, she’d never felt so on fire, so desirable. If he didn’t start undressing her this moment, she’d rip off her clothes with no thought to ever needing them again. She wanted nothing but skin between them.

He stood at her feet. Her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the evidence of desire rising in his pants. ‘You sure this is what you want?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She wanted him inside her taking everything she had.

‘Thank fuck.’ And with those words he sank onto the bed, reaching out to make quick work of her shirt buttons. Within seconds she was naked from the waist up, her nipples erect and her whole body shaking with need. He ran his hands over her bare skin as if reacquainting himself, cupping her breasts before he stooped down and wrapped his lips around one nipple.

She arched up off the bed and gripped his back with her fingers, the need between her legs growing with each passing second. Flynn gave her other nipple equal consideration as he rid her of her trousers. Warmth flooded through her and her heart spiked as his fingers slipped under the cotton of her knickers. She wanted to touch him too, but didn’t know if she had the energy or the wherewithal in her bamboozled state.