Vision in Trust (Legends of the North #2) (12 page)

She nodded and followed him towards James's cottage, wondering if he were angry with Miles or her, or for having to sort out her problem?
 

With a quiet sigh, she knew it was probably better if she didn't see Rob anymore, or at least not alone. If Miles had it in his head that something was going on between the two of them, he could quite easily make their lives hell. Miles was like a cat; he wouldn't kill a bird, just injure it, and then watch it slowly die, just because he could. They had enough problems without adding Miles to the list.

***

Time seemed to slow as Rob listened to the four of them update everyone on what they'd researched—which wasn't a lot he had to admit. Yet it wasn’t enough to stop him from still wanting to punch something. Or, more accurately, he still wanted to punch Miles, and he hated violence.
 

Even then, as they walked through the village towards Matt's house, he could feel himself getting more wound up. The look of fear on Jess's face kept running through his mind, and she already had faint bruises on her wrists. This guy was her ex, and that was another reason he was so frustrated. He had no idea what had happened between Miles and Jess, and he didn't think anybody else did either. As they walked down Matt's street, he wondered why Matt had never spoken to him about Miles.

As Matt unlocked the front door, Emma turned to speak to Jess. "Do you want to come in?"

"No. I'm going to go back to our place, thanks."

"Okay. I'll probably stay here tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow. Rob?"

He looked up at his name and shook his head. "I should probably get home too, but thanks." And he meant it—he
should
go home, but that wasn't where he was planning on going. They left Matt and Emma, and Rob fell into step beside Jess as they walked towards her place.

"Are you coming to mine?"

"I think I should. We need to talk." Something in his tone must have made her realise he was serious because, when she glanced his way, she just nodded and pushed open the gate to her house. He followed her up the path, wondering if she would actually talk to him.

They each took a seat at opposite ends of the sofa, and Rob knew this wasn't going to be easy. Tugging at the hair at the back of his head, he tried to work out how to start this conversation, but for once Jess made it easy for him.
 

With her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, she started talking. "Miles is a vindictive man. He likes to own things, people, and he's not a sharer. He ... he told me he was behind your attack. I don't know if it was him or if he got someone to do it for him, but either way, he was behind it. I'm so sorry, Rob." As she said the last words, she rested her chin on her knees.

Rob felt like he was a kid again, listening to his mum apologise for his father's behaviour. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault. And why did he attack me? Does he think you still belong to him?"

He watched as she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't think I ever knew him. In the beginning, he was sweet, caring even, but over time ..."
 

He shifted in his seat to face her and leaned closer, but not close enough to touch, even though he wanted to.

"What did he do to you, Jess? Tell me what he did."

Her head jerked up at Rob's question. Was it so obvious? She had never told anyone what had happened that night. Never intended to, having buried it as deep as she could to try to forget, to make it seem like a bad dream. And it had worked while she was in London, with some distance between them.
 

But being back up here, never knowing when she might run into Miles? Worse, when her mum might invite him round, try to set them up. If she told Rob, it might make it easier for him to accept that whatever might have started between them had to stop. For his safety, more than anything. She didn't want to be responsible for him getting hurt again.

Her eyes started to water and she sniffled, but she refused to cry, not again, not over him. Shifting her gaze, she stared at the wall behind Rob and coiled a piece of hair around her finger.

"We'd known each other most of our lives. Not well, but we knew of each other. Our mothers were friends, so we saw each other a lot. We started dating when I was nineteen. I'd just got back from Switzerland and, if I'm honest, it was probably because it's what our mothers wanted. Miles was sweet and attentive, and we got on well, and I was feeling a little ... lost."

"Why?" he asked, and she glanced at him.

He looked curious, with one eyebrow raised. Jess realised he might be friends with Matt, but they didn't know each other that well, and clearly Matt didn't talk about her. "I had an agreement with my mother that I could study what I wanted at college, as long as I went to a finishing school in Switzerland afterwards." Rob laughed, a full belly laugh, and she couldn't blame him.

"Seriously?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds. They have courses to prepare you for dealing with different cultures. It's actually quite useful if you're planning on international work. Learning the customs of different countries and, of course, which fork to use when."

He snorted a laugh at her last comment but kept his eyes on her.
 

"Anyway, when I got back from that, I had A-levels in English and psychology, my mother pushing me to get married, and I didn't know what I wanted. He listened to me, paid attention to what I said, and we discussed things. I was so used to being told what I should be doing, and it was just ... He was so different. And yes, I was young and naïve and fell for the act. I realised that too late."
 

Jess unfolded herself from the sofa and began to pace the room.
I can do this.
If she told him, it would make it easier for them not to see each other. Would he blame her? Would he come to the same conclusion she had, that she should have known better? Or, as Miles said, she'd brought it on herself?

"I think Miles had been interested in me for a while before we actually got together. It was clearly taking me too long to catch up to where he was. One night, I was walking home, and he just appeared next to me. He wanted to know where I'd been, what I'd been doing, and who with. I think he'd had a few too many to drink, which was unusual for him since he likes to be in control. I've heard other people say this and never believed them, but one minute we were walking along the lane, and the next thing I knew I was ..." Jess stopped her pacing and faced the fireplace, her back to Rob before she continued.

"I was on the ground with Miles on top of me. I tried to get him off me, but he grabbed my wrists and then, and then ..." A sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth and nose with her hands. She didn't want to shed any more tears over him, over what he’d done.

"Shh, you don't have to say anything else," Rob said, from right behind her, but she could feel the small distance he'd left between them.

Jess closed her eyes, and behind her eyelids, she could see herself from that night. Curled up on her side, wrapping her torn skirt around her. Miles stood over her, laughing, then just before he left he spat on her. Like she was nothing. There for his use, and then discarded like trash. The pain and humiliation from that night pushed to the surface.

 
"He just left me there, alone. He just ... he ..." But she couldn't finish, wasn't even sure what she was trying to tell him anymore, as her sobs had her body shaking. Rob gently turned her around, enveloped her in his arms, and just held her while she cried.

***

He held her as she cried, and he felt completely useless. What could you say after someone told you that? Words sounded so glib, and no woman should ever have to experience that. He thought he'd wanted to hurt Miles before, but now? He wanted to see him suffer the pain he'd put Jess through.
 

Her sobs were becoming quieter, and she pulled out of his hold, swiping at her eyes. Standing tall, she pushed her shoulders back and stared him straight in the eye before dropping her gaze. Frosty Jess was back and trying to push him away again.

"You asked if he thought I still belonged to him, and the answer is probably yes. I was his, as far as he was concerned. That entitled him to something I hadn't been providing, so he just took it. Not long after that, I left for London, and I hadn’t seen him since. Well, until I moved back. I guess he thinks I need a lesson in how to behave. He wants to teach me that I shouldn't have left. That even if he doesn't want me, no one else can have me either."

Rob let her pace away from him, putting as much distance between them as she could, without actually leaving the room.

"That's why we need to stay away from each other. It's me he wants. He doesn't know who you are, and if you stay away from me, he'll leave you alone. You won't get hurt again."

Hell no. Did Jess actually believe he was going to give in to a bully? Because that's all Miles was. Rob had gone that route before, and he knew bullies just took and took, for as long as you let them.
 

But he'd learned a long time before how to stick up for himself. How to stand up for others too. He wasn't about to let Miles dictate who was in his life. Walking over to where she stood, he put himself right in front of her, so she had to look at him.

"It's not that simple, Jess. First of all, there's some bigger shit going down at the moment than Miles and his bloody ego. Whatever is going on, we're both involved, so how can we stay away from each other? Second, I'm not going to let Miles rule my life. I like you, Jess, and I don't want to stay away from you. If you don't want me here, I'll go. As long as it's what
you
want and not some misguided attempt to placate Miles."
 

He watched her take in his words, a blush slowly spreading across her cheeks. Leaning back against the wall, she trapped her hands between it and her back and stared at him.
 

What’s going through that head of hers?

"I ... like you too," she said, hesitantly.
 

She sounded like she was admitting to a crime. So he didn't say anything, just gave one nod as he tried to stop the grin from forming on his lips.

Wow, she couldn't believe she'd admitted that to him. And now she didn't know what to say, because he hadn't said anything after, just stared at her. Her stomach growled as though telling her what to do, and she listened, making her way into the kitchen. Rob followed her and, without thinking, she asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner?" Then she buried her head in the fridge to avoid looking at him.

"What are we having?"

Assuming that was a yes, she checked the shelves again and let out a hum.

"What's that mean?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder to look in the fridge too.

"Well, I was hoping Emma might have already made something, but it doesn't look like it."

"Can you cook, Jess?"

Straightening, she shifted away from him. "Define cook."

Smirking, he said, "Prepare a meal."

Folding her arms over her chest, she thought about it. "Does a sandwich constitute a meal?"

Rob shook his head and nudged her to the side. Picking up a box of eggs, he searched through the veggie drawer. "How about a mushroom omelette?"

"You can cook?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the disbelief in her voice written all over her face. "I've lived on my own for a long time, so it was either learn to cook, or starve."

A look of sadness passed over his face before he hid it with an overly bright smile, and she wondered what that was about. "I can help if you show me what to do."
 

He took out what she thought was a lot of ingredients before closing the fridge door. "Can you chop vegetables?"

"I think I can cope with that."
As she made a salad, he whipped up the eggs. Her attention was drawn to the bare forearms he'd revealed once he'd removed his hoodie to cook.
She noticed the ripple of his muscles, and then a streak of paint across the bottom of his bicep. "Are you decorating?"

Putting the bowl of eggs down, he turned to her with his eyebrow scrunched together. "What?"

Pointing to the paint on his arms, she said, "I thought you might be redecorating. You have paint on you and—" she sniffed "—you smell of turpentine."

Chuckling, he said, "That's my new cologne." When she didn't laugh, he said, "I was joking. I was working before I met up with all of you." The pan sizzled as he poured the egg mixture into it.

"You were painting at the gym?"

"No." He pulled a spatula out of the pot of utensils and started poking at the edges of the omelette.

She wasn't sure that was what you were supposed to do to an omelette, but then again, how would she know?

He dropped the spatula and said, "I've been working on this project for a while. It has nothing to do with the gym. It’s not something I talk about usually."

"Not even with Matt?"

He shook his head.

"Why? What is it?"
 

He shrugged one shoulder as he flipped the omelette over, and she had to admit, she was pretty impressed.

"A few people I know from ... some groups have been trying to set up a drop-in centre for a few years now. We've finally got somewhere and, well ... let's just say it's seen better days. I'm helping to fix it up and whatever else they need."

He slid the omelette onto a plate and cut it in half. Jess put the bowl of salad on the table and offered him a beer.

"Thanks," he said as he pulled out a chair.

She sat across from him, and the smell of cooked eggs made her mouth water. Her eyes closed and she said, "No, thank you for cooking. It smells delicious. So, what kind of drop-in centre is it?"

His fork stopped halfway to his mouth as he looked at her through narrowed eyes. Had she said something wrong?

He ate his forkful of food then said, "Ideally, we want it to be for anyone who needs help, but realistically we can't provide that yet. So we're going to start off providing help for kids who've been abused. We have some counsellors who are willing to donate their time. And when I've finished, we'll even have a couple of beds, should anyone need one for the night."