better?
Because the person he’d hurt recently? She was the one who mattered most. Her words—the ones he’d tried not to listen to—rang in his ears like town hall bells pealing through the county.
Don’t let him win.
Was that what he was doing? Wasn’t she right? Wouldn’t having a committed, happy, honest relationship be the ultimate act of rebellion against his father’s memory? Even when facing the worst, Merle had hope and strength. She wanted more for him. But also for herself. Because she could admit how she felt. She had courage. He wanted to be better for her—brave like her. And he didn’t give a damn about his bloody father any more.
He didn’t want Merle to be alone, and the last thing he wanted was for her to find someone else. In time, she would. She was too beautiful, too loveable not to. Suddenly his old arrogance soared inside. No one else—no one—could give her what he could give her. He wanted her to have everything she’d missed out on. Not material wealth or luxury. It was simpler than that. Scarier. But how did he create a bond that would only strengthen them? How did he reach out to her? How did he do any of this? For all of his supposed intelligence, he was absolutely clueless.
It felt as if that empty ache inside was filling with his own blood.
I want your first I love you.
That plea had devastated him. But she didn’t realise she’d already had some of his firsts. Things he’d never told anyone. Things he’d never done before. Spending that time with her. Laughing like that with her. Playing in a way that was more than superficial, in a way that formed serious foundations.
But she didn’t know, because he’d not told her. Because he’d been a coward. It turned out he was better than Merle Jordan—the hide-away queen herself—at avoidance. He finally accepted that he’d run away not to ‘protect her’ from him. He’d been protecting himself. Because he didn’t want that pain of loss. Because he didn’t want to be rejected. Because he didn’t want to be a disappointment. So he’d got in first. Everything that terrified him, he’d done to her. He was a jerk.
And now he felt terrible for it. The biggest mistake of his life had left him balancing on the narrowest ledge of a cliff. He didn’t have long to stop himself falling. Merle Jordan was like a sprite. She’d lit his life for only a short time, but he’d not appreciated her true value. So he’d left her. He’d lost her. He couldn’t lose her for ever. He couldn’t let her disappear, never to be found again. So how did he reach out? How did he try to make this better? How did he fix what he’d broken?
With the truth.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MERLE WAS SICK of being stuck in a mega-mansion all by herself riding the roller coaster of heartbreak and hope. She’d spent the week storming through the boxes in silence, determined to still do a good job. But determined to do a fast job. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could escape, and the sooner she could recover. Because the hope side of the equation was slipping.
A couple of days after Ash’s abrupt departure a load of groceries had been delivered. A mass of fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and fish and, yes, even more instant noodles. She hated that he’d been that thoughtful when he’d refused to care. Was it only pity? With a sprinkle of guilt perhaps. Either way, it was a scattering of emotional crumbs she really didn’t want from him. Because she wanted everything. Instead, Ash Castle had left her with only ash—the remnants of her pride, of her memories of that last week, with her burned heart.
She’d worked through the whole week, then the weekend. She had that week off with Ash to make up for anyway. She’d focused on cataloguing one item after another, not letting her gaze wander to the pool outside, not letting her mind wander to wisps of conversation, to the echo of laugher and sweet sighs. And she was never, ever, thinking of that last kiss—where she’d tried to pour her soul into him. To show him what she felt in the hope he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. But he had.
She’d half-hoped to find something of his mother’s, knowing it would mean so much to him. But there was nothing. There wouldn’t be even that littlest of