Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2) (16 page)

He shoved his hands on his hips. “And now?”

Now? Now she wished she wasn’t having this conversation with both of them pissed off and neither of them fully dressed. She didn’t want to have to choose between her career and Jarrod again. She’d already done that once before.

Why couldn’t she have both?

Weren’t women supposed to be able to have it all these days?

“Come and live in Brisbane with me. The anchor job is based there so I’ll be around twenty-four seven now. No travelling. No snatching time to be with each other.”

It was a much more compelling proposition now than the one she’d made earlier, but the same hesitation she’d seen then flashed through his eyes again.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she said, jumping in, desperation taking over. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted
him.

But she wanted this opportunity as well.

“Leaving your job and your family and your home town. I understand that.
Believe
me, I do. But I think it could work. Like you said earlier, we’re two smart people, right?”

He nodded. “I just wish it didn’t feel like such a … afterthought.”

A cramping pain took up residence in Selena’s chest. God—how did this all go so wrong? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Phil’s phone call threw me. I wasn’t planning on it. I wasn’t planning on tonight being the night I was offered the one thing I’ve wanted for fifteen years.”

His snort tore through her like a bullet. “And here I was thinking maybe tonight
I
was the thing you’d wanted for fifteen years.”

Bitterness coloured his words and there was defeat in the way he raked his hand though his hair. But he wasn’t being fair. He was already living the life he’d always wanted.

“I’m not talking personally.”

“That’s the difference between us, Selena. I
am
. You think your job can bring you personal fulfilment? You’re wrong. It can’t cuddle you in bed at night. It can’t fuck you in a shower. And it
won’t
be there when you’re fifty and some other younger, perkier blonde is waiting for a family tragedy to take your place.”

Selena gasped, recoiling at the implication, emotion thickening her throat and jabbing her straight in the solar plexus. As a blow it hit pretty hard. She’d have never thought Jarrod capable. Which just went to show how much she didn’t know about this very adult Jarrod.

Maybe she deserved it after all the pain she’d inflicted on him over the years, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Shit,” he swore, pushing a hand through his hair, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. That was a crappy thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it had been a heat of the moment thing. But it had obviously come from somewhere and maybe it was best that it came out now. “Okay.” Selena held onto her temper and the hard ball of hurt inside her. “Maybe we need to cool down and have a think about this? Talk about us and the future later?”

“Later?”

“After … When my stint as news anchor is up.” The way things were between them right now they’d probably need that kind of distance.

He gaped at her. “In
four
months?” Clearly he didn’t think they needed
that
much distance. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

Selena shrugged. She had to admit, it was a long time and no matter how pissed she was at him now, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. Not anymore. But maybe they needed to take it slow? Get to know each other again.

“We can still see each other. We’re two hours away. We can make it happen.”

He shook his head. “I don’t just want bits of you, Selena. The parts left over. The pieces you can spare. I’ve been without you for fifteen years, and they were long and hard and I hated every one of them.”

He moved, coming to a halt in front of her, sliding his hands onto her upper arms, his eyes searching hers. “I walked around in a permanent state of …
less
and I didn’t even realise it until you waltzed back into town a few weeks ago and lit me up again. Now I’ve found you again I want
all
of you.
Everything
.”

The raw need in Jarrod’s voice shocked her. Everything? He wanted too much. She loved him, but Grandy had brought her up to need more in her life, and she didn’t want to be smothered by his love. To grow to resent it like her mother had grown to resent her father. She didn’t want to be
bound
by it. To have only
it
in her life. She needed more.

And right there in this moment she knew she had to make a clean break again. No matter how much she wanted to fold herself in his arms and beg him to come with her. Or tell him she’d stay.

She didn’t want to spend the next however many years with Jarrod arguing about the clash of her career and his vision of their all-or-nothing life together. She might be looking at an extended time in the anchor chair, an extended time in one place for a change, but there were still going to be a lot of demands on her time.

It wasn’t just a couple of hours of hair and make-up and talking into a camera. As the face of the channel there’d be studio commitments. Extra-curricular stuff. It was better to cut her losses and run before they ended up hating each other.

She didn’t want him hating her again.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said, gathering every ounce of strength to pull out of his hold. She turned her back on him, walking over to her jeans and stepping into them, the noise of the zipper covering up the sound of her breaking heart.

“That’s bullshit,” he said and when she turned to face him, his arms were crossed and he was glowering.

Selena shook her head. “I can’t give you
everything
. It’s the job. It may be a desk thing but it … consumes you. There are still long hours and then schmoozing and media and studio and charity commitments and weekend things … Then there’s Twitter and Facebook and the whole gamut of social media. It’s never ending really. I’d be in early and working back. There’d be phone calls in the middle of the night. I’d be out a lot. You’d get … resentful.”

He glowered some more. “Don’t tell me what I’d get. I’m not some child trying to keep a toy all to himself. I understand you’d have commitments.”

“Do you know the separation and divorce rate in the industry, Jarrod? It’s high. It’s
insanely
high. Higher than the average. I’d rather end this now before it even began than watch your love die. It would
kill
me to see you like me less and less. Kill me to see you continually sacrificing what you want for what I want and watching you slowly wither from it. You belong here, Jarrod.”

“I think I can decide that. I’m a big boy.”

Yes. He was. But she couldn’t put either of them through it. Not again. She was used to being the one that walked way. She could do it again. She picked up her bag, her gut hardening into a ball. “It’s not your choice.”

“So you’re going to leave again. Like last time?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“We
can
work it out, Selena. We just have to want it bad enough.”

Selena shook her head, gathering herself to be cruel. She had to be cruel to be kind. For both of them. “I don’t want it bad enough.”

His flinch was visible even in the shadows and from a couple of metres away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hurt you again, believe me I don’t, but a relationship is not my priority at the moment. I have to give this job my
everything.
I won’t have time to invest in …”
us
“… something we shouldn’t have rekindled in the first place.”

“I see.” The angles of his jaw tightened. “You want wings and I’m roots.”

Oh the irony of that damn speech coming back to bite her on the ass. Selena swallowed. “Yes.”

“Well then, go,” he said, his voice tight, his eyes bleak. “Go fly away. Be free.”

His gaze dared her to leave as if, deep down, he thought she’d stay. But Selena knew she couldn’t. No matter how her heart crumbled and her body screamed at her to stop. No matter how much she loved him she had to do this.

She had to be strong. She would regret it forever if she wasn’t and that would destroy them quicker than anything else.

“Goodbye,” she murmured, her heart mapping his face one last, lingering time before turning on her heel and flying away.

*     *     *

Two weeks later
Jarrod stood shoulder to shoulder with Marcus and Ethan in a crowd of people outside Jumbuck Springs’ oldest church. It was Friday and it seemed the whole town had turned out for the triple funeral of the Wyndham family. The whole country actually, with the Prime Minister and the Opposition Leader also in attendance along with several local and state dignitaries.

The entire nation had been shocked at the ravenous appetite of the bushfires and touched by the tragic deaths of the Wyndhams.

The funeral had been delayed due to the nature of their deaths and the subsequent investigations, but now it was here Jumbuck Springs was farewelling the newcomers to their midst as if they’d lived in the area for generations.

Reggie’s under-twelve football team, dressed in their green and red uniforms, their green socks pulled right up to their bony knees, their recent medals around their necks, formed a guard of honour as the three coffins were loaded into the hearses. Reggie’s medal sat atop of his.

Marcus cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot and pulling at his collar. All three of them wore their formal emergency services uniforms, complete with jackets and ties, and they were bloody hot under the blazing midday sun.

The crowd watched in silence as the cars pulled away for their journey to the cemetery. Ethan glanced at Marcus then pointedly at Jarrod as Marcus cleared his throat again and fiddled with the knot of his tie.

“Are you okay?” Jarrod asked.

Marcus had never been comfortable in a suit jacket, but Jarrod didn’t think for a moment that was the cause of his brother’s unease today.

“Yes.”

Jarrod exchanged glances again with Ethan. They’d been worried about Marcus. He hadn’t been the same since the day they’d discovered the Wyndham’s burnt-out car. He was irritable and short-tempered at home and trying too hard to be his old larrikin self when he was out. He’d thrown himself into his work, refusing to talk to anyone or take some time off. And when he wasn’t at work he was at the pub or drinking on the back veranda.

His act seemed to be fooling everyone except the two people who knew him best.

“Marcus …” Ethan murmured, putting his hand on his brother’s arm. “It’s okay to—”

“I said I was fine, damn it,” he interrupted on a low growl, shaking Ethan’s hand off and stalking away.

“Shit,” Ethan swore as they tracked Marcus’s path through the crowds. “That went well …”

Jarrod shrugged. “He’s not exactly easy to talk to at the moment.”

“Yeah. But he can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” Jarrod murmured.

Ethan checked his watch. “Crap. I have to get back to the station. I’m still dealing with a bunch of stuff from the bushfires.”

“It’s fine, man. Go back to work. I’ll keep an eye on him. Pretty sure I know where he’s heading.”

Ethan nodded. They both knew Marcus would be hitting the pub. “Let me know if you need backup,” he said, clapping Jarrod on the shoulder before departing.

Jarrod took a deep breath. How was it possible to still smell smoke? Or had it just become so ingrained into every building, horizontal surface and blade of grass in town it would never really go away? Were they destined to always suffer from a lingering reminder of the disaster that had knocked on their back door?

He looked across the dispersing crowd, either heading for the cemetery or gathering in small, sad groups shaking their heads and speaking in hushed tones. The PM’s protection detail hovered as he greeted some of the townspeople on the way to his ride. Other VIPs climbed into their vehicles.

A large gaggle of media were cordoned off. Mostly they were packing up now as the crowd broke up but their TV cameras had relentlessly scanned the crowd that had started to gather here two hours ago, their telephoto cameras clicking and flashing as they snapped shots of grieving people and ass-kissing politicians alike.

He searched through their number one more time. About the hundredth for the day. Just in case he’d missed her, examining every face like it might magically morph into hers. Even when he’d seen John with a busty brunette he vaguely recognised holding a Channel Four microphone he’d hoped that Selena would still show. Would come back to cover the funeral just as she’d covered the fires and the awful moment he and Marcus had found the Wyndham’s bodies.

She didn’t. She hadn’t come. She wasn’t here. Disappointment dug deep beneath his skin and wrapped around the frozen knot of emotions that had been sitting like a boulder in his stomach since the night she’d walked out of his bedroom.

And he’d let her.

Hell. He’d practically
driven
her out with his anger and his desire to have
everything
. But Selena had made her choice. Twice now. Both times she
hadn’t
chosen him.