‘But it was the only time it hurt,’ I say. ‘It was the only time you let yourself fall in love with your foster parents.’
‘Jesus, Holly. What do you know?’
‘I know that the day they left you something happened deep inside you that you still can’t change. You were heartbroken and ever since then you’ve kept your heart locked up in case you’re rejected again. I know you were set on a destructive path until you found programming and Gabe. That you found it easier to screw things up and be unlovable before anyone could reject you.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Thank you so much for the elucidating character sketch.’
I feel like the ground is tipping beneath my feet. It occurs to me that helping him like this might be ruining everything we share, but not helping him isn’t an option. I want him to be better. To be happy. To be capable of accepting love, to open his heart to trust and relationships.
‘Did Julianne stay in contact with you?’
‘She wasn’t allowed,’ he says, his expression rock-hard. ‘The foster system is very “protective” of its kids. Once I moved on, I was assigned to a new guardian. She wasn’t allowed to have my details.’
‘So you never heard from her again?’
A muscle jerks in his cheek, but he is quiet. Quiet for so long that I contemplate a new line of questioning. ‘When I turned eighteen,’ he says quietly, ‘she was able to get my contact information from the foster system then.’
My heart warms. This woman cares for him. Loves him. To have contacted him after so long shows she never forgot him. ‘What did she say?’
‘Does it matter?’ There is a bleak pain in his voice.
‘I think it does.’
His jaw tightens. ‘She said she thought about me every day since they left. That she wondered about me and hoped and prayed that I was happy. That I was with someone who loved me as much as she did. She said she wanted to see me again.’
Tears clog my throat, but I can’t give in to them. I am trying to be professional, and to treat him as I would any other patient. ‘How did that make you feel?’
I expect him to say happy or relieved. Instead, I get ‘Fucking livid.’
‘Livid?’
‘Yeah, Doc. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t want to see her. She was in my past.’
‘You were still angry with her. For leaving you.’
‘No! I just didn’t want to know her.’
‘When did you last hear from her?’
He scowls at me. ‘Two months ago.’
‘What did she say?’
‘I don’t want to do this.’
‘I know.’
‘I mean it, Holly. I’m done. This is shit.’
He stalks towards my desk, bracing his hands on its edge. I know I’m close. So close to whatever has brought him here, whatever brought us together.
‘Are you afraid?’
‘No!’ He whips around angrily and his face is pure emotion. Handsome but scarred by the wounds he carries. ‘I’m not fucking afraid. I’m bored. Sick of this. Over it.’ His nostrils flare as he draws in a deep breath, so deep his chest puffs with it. ‘Two months ago she wrote to me to say she had cancer. That she needed me to know how much she loved me and how goddamned proud she was of what I’d achieved.’ His chest falls as he exhales. ‘Two weeks after that, she died.’ He pauses, his eyes spearing mine like blades. ‘There you go: the answer you’ve been looking for this whole fucking time. She died, I went to the funeral and since then I haven’t been able to sleep. Ta-da! It’s no deeply held secret—it’s life, and it’s my life, and I want you to butt the hell out of it.’
I’ve had patients shout at me before, but only one man I loved has ever done so. I have endured so much worse from Aaron, but it never hurt like this. I brace my back against the wall because I’m not sure I can stand any more.
‘You think you know what makes me tick?’ he says, moving closer towards me, his body a contortion of rage. I am not afraid, not like I would be if this was Aaron. I am afraid for him, for the emotions that are coursing through him. For the pain he feels and how it controls him.
‘I’m trying to,’ I say softly. ‘I want to.’ A muscle near my heart throbs and I know then what I need to admit to him and myself. ‘I want to love you, Noah. I want you to let me love you. I know that’s not going to be easy for you, but I’m falling in love with you and I need you to be brave enough to own that. I want to help you deal with this so we can be together. Properly.’
He stares at me like I’ve started speaking a foreign language. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ he whispers, haunted and cross.
‘Fight your instinct to push me away. Isn’t that what bothers you? That you pushed away Julianne? That you pushed away her love when you wanted it so badly?’
‘You don’t know shit about me, Doc.’ He stalks towards me, close but not touching me. ‘You think this is love? This is sex. I like fucking you. I decided I’d fuck you the first moment I saw you to prove that I could. That’s who I am and that’s what this is. You think I have issues with love? Maybe you’re right. But they’re nothing compared to your issues. You have a sick need—you want to love someone who’s going to hurt you. You were hurt by your parents—you could never win their approval. You weren’t what they wanted. So you look for that hurt now—you found it in Aaron and you’re looking for it again in me. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen—we both do—but at least I’m smart enough to walk away before it explodes. Fucking bloody love!’
I am shivering and hurting and shocked in equal measure. ‘Noah...’ I lift a hand to his chest. His heart is beating slowly, like he’s not even bothered by what he’s just said. But I take a punt. ‘You’re angry. Maybe I’ve pushed you too hard. Let’s...just...let this go for now.’
‘You don’t get it,’ he says condescendingly. ‘That’s what I’m doing. I’m letting it go. I’m letting you go.’
‘Wait a second.’ I shake my head, trying to see things clearly with a heart that’s breaking. ‘You’re doing what you always do. You’re pushing me away before I can push you away. I’m not going to hurt you, Noah.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Holly. I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. You don’t hold that power over me. I don’t love you.’
I pull in a breath, shocked. Hurting. Aching.
‘I’m not single because I’m damaged or running from love. I’m single because I want to be. I like being on my own. I like fucking a variety of women. You must know that about me. Surely you’ve heard the rumours? Well, Doc, they’re all true.’
My heart shreds. I stay standing, somehow.
He straightens and turns away from me.
He’s pushing me away, that’s all. But he’s doing a damned good job of it.
No one’s ever loved Noah enough to fight for him through his bullshit. But I’m going to. ‘You’re angry,’ I say calmly, even when my insides are on fire. ‘You’re trying to hurt me because I’ve hurt you. I understand.’
He laughs. ‘Your optimism is a marvel.’ He grabs his leather jacket from the back of the chair. ‘How can I put this more simply? I’m walking out that door and I don’t want you to follow me. I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want to see you again. You and your so-called love can go fuck themselves.’
He doesn’t even slam the door when he leaves. I stay, staring at the door, exactly where I was, pressed against the wall, my body trembling, my heart cracking, my mind spinning. What the fuck?
That did not go as I planned. I walk towards my desk... My underpants are still where they were dropped. I bend down to pick them up and a single tear falls onto my wrist.
I am almost certain that I’m right. That he’s just pushing me away however he can, terrified by what he’s revealed and what I’ve offered him. Terrified of losing him.
I reach for my
phone. My fingers are trembling, but I type a quick message to Diane, asking her to keep Ivy for the night.
Something’s come up with a client, sorry.
I’d love to have her! We’re learning The Night Before Christmas.
I smile at that, slipping my phone into my handbag. I have three patients to get through before I can go to Noah, but I’m going to fix this for him, for us, because I love him, and I’m going to show him that love means fighting. Love is lasting. Love is permanent and he is worthy of all of those things.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHE’S WEARING THE same perfume as Holly. It smells like chocolate and flowers. It’s why I approach her, because I catch a hint of the fragrance as I pass the bar on my way back from the john and the smell draws me in, like a man who needs an urgent fix of a drug he can’t have, so he settles for something—anything—to ease the pain.
This woman is nothing like Holly, though. This woman has a body like a fashion model, all skin and bone, draped in a black leather dress. Her hair is black, pulled into a silky ponytail. Once upon a time, I would have fantasised about wrapping my fingers around the ponytail and pulling her head back, kissing her lips, taking her against the bar.
Instead, I take the seat next to her and order two Scotches. ‘Join me.’
It’s a gruff command. She doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes are brown; I’m glad they’re not blue. Holly’s eyes are like ice.
Out of nowhere, I see them as they’d been that afternoon. I was right, in Paris. I feel Holly’s pains as if they were my own. Her emotional hurts haunt me.
But fuck her.
What did she expect?
Making me talk about Julianne and whether or not she could have kept me? Should have stayed in Sydney? Then telling me she, Holly, loved me? Jesus. I’ve known her only a few weeks. It’s just sex!
And sex is something I’m good at, I remind myself, wishing I felt a stirring of desire for the very beautiful woman I’m sitting next to. I don’t, though, but I’ve done this enough times to fake it.
‘Nice...dress,’ I say, dropping my eyes to her cleavage.
When I look at her face, her lips are parted and then she smiles at me. Her fingers run across the dipped neckline and she leans forward, purring, ‘You should see what’s underneath.’
‘I’d like that, sweetheart. Have a drink with me first, though.’
I slide the Scotch across to her and throw my own back, signalling the barman for another. It’s busy for a Wednesday night. I guess that’s this fucking Christmas time of the year, though.
‘You drink like you’re trying to forget,’ she says smoothly, a hand creeping over to my thigh.
‘Do I?’
She tilts her head to the side, her feline eyes appraising me. ‘There are other ways to forget. Better ways.’
She’s right. Holly used me to fuck Aaron out of her body and now I see the logic of that. Of being able to devalue what you had with someone by having exactly that with someone else.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask the woman.
‘Do we need to swap names?’
My chest lifts with relief. What a pleasure it is to talk to a woman who doesn’t want to psychoanalyse everything I say and do. I tell myself this is good. This is healthy. It’s an added bonus that she doesn’t recognise me. I’m not exactly famous, but I find I get recognised often enough to dislike it.
‘I’ll tell you what I want, sweetheart. I want to get drunk. And then we’re going to...’
The words die on my lips. I see Holly. Not here, just in my mind. But I see her as she’d been that first night: in my bed, so beautiful, so willing, so gentle, so kind.
I see her as she’d be if she knew I was planning to fuck this other woman. I see her hurt and my heart cranks in my chest.
Fuck it.
Holly was an aberration. A break from my usual rules. That doesn’t mean I’m bound to her for ever. I don’t owe her anything, just like she doesn’t owe me anything. She could be with someone else and I wouldn’t care.
That’s a lie. The very idea fills me with bile. The thought of another man’s hands on her body makes me want to vomit.
But that’s wrong. Because Holly deserves a nice man. A nice man who won’t hurt her. A nice man who smiles when she says she loves him, and buys her roses as a sign of his love. All that romantic shit I don’t have any time for.
‘Yes?’ the woman opposite asks, running her palm higher so her fingertips graze my cock. I fight an impulse to dash her hand away.
I’ve been in this bar for the better part of the night. I have no concept of what time it is. But another Scotch doesn’t feel like the answer.
‘Let’s go,’ I say, standing up, reaching for her hand and holding it as though it is the talisman that will save me from the nightmare I’ve woken up in. ‘Now.’
* * *
The air is frigid against me as we step out of the cab. My place is just down the street a little way. Whatever-Her-Name-Is is slightly uneven on high heels and with a shitload of alcohol in her system. Drunk messy sex is going to get Holly and her fucking therapy session out of my head.
This is the therapy I need!
‘So,’ the woman purrs, snuggling up beside me, so I wrap an arm around her waist, holding her there, refusing to compare her slim, hard figure to Holly’s beautiful, soft undulations. ‘You’re rich.’
I laugh. ‘Am I?’
‘You have, like, two thousand pounds in your wallet and you live here,’ she says, shrugging her shoulders.
She must have seen my cash when I paid for the cab. And, as for where I live, I suppose it is a sign of wealth. I look towards the steps; it is dark, but a light from just down the street highlights the outline of a figure on my steps, hunched over.
A tramp?
I am already reaching for my wallet, happy to throw a few hundred quid his way, when the figure straightens and I stop walking, my heart jerking frantically inside me.
Holly.
She is as surprised as I am, her face pale, her eyes frantic, her lips parted.
She was waiting for me and instead she got us. Me and a woman whose name I don’t know, who is practically drooling at the thought of being in my bed.
What we are about to do is impossible to misinterpret. So I don’t bother insulting Holly’s intelligence by pretending. By apologising. I meant what I said in her office. We’re done.
‘Noah.’ The word is tortured from her, a groan that reaches inside me and snaps what little self-control I have left. I turn to the woman beside me, the woman who doesn’t even want to know my name, and smile.
‘Go inside, sweetheart. I’ll be in soon.’
‘Don’t keep me waiting,’ she murmurs, standing up on tiptoe and nipping my earlobe.
Holly gasps as though she’s been stabbed. My gut responds accordingly.
I unlock my door and hold it inwards while Skinny Model Girl teeters in. I pull the door shut afterwards, giving Holly my full attention.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispers, her knuckles white as she grips the railing behind her.
‘Isn’t that obvious?’
Her eyes are huge. ‘You don’t... You don’t want to do this, Noah.’
‘Oh, believe me, I do.’ And maybe it’s seeing Holly, maybe it’s a reaction to the panic inside me, but my cock is hard. I grab Holly’s hand and palm her across my front.
Tears sparkle in her eyes. Fuck. Not tears. I can’t handle that, and nor can I handle her.
‘What do you want?’ I ask bleakly, my buzz disappearing. I am stone-cold sober now.
‘I... Noah...’ She swallows, lost for words. She hadn’t prepared for this. ‘I can’t do this while she’s here.’
‘Do what?’ I demand. ‘I told you today, we’re done. I meant it. This is who I am, Holly. This guy. Not the man yo
u think you can make me.’
‘I don’t want to change you...’
‘You just want to “heal” me,’ I say.
‘Is that so wrong?’ she whispers.
‘Yes. I don’t need to be healed. Now kindly fuck off.’
She draws in a harsh breath, but determination is stoked anew in her gaze. ‘No.’
‘Well, I hate to break it to you, Holly, but I’ve got plans and, unless you’re into threesomes, you’re not invited.’
More tears. ‘You’re such a bastard,’ she says.
‘Yes. But that’s your thing, right?’
‘Apparently.’ Her face is pinched. ‘Fine. Go and...and fuck her. See if I care.’
‘You don’t care, Holly, not really. That’s the whole damned point.’
I stare at her for a long second and then turn away, my blood gushing through my body and my chest feeling like it’s been split in half.
When I go inside, I lean against the door, my back pressed to it for several moments while I come to terms with what’s just happened.
That afternoon I had Holly in her office and she was so sassy and confident, bribing me with sex for therapy, and I loved seeing that she knows how many cards she holds with me. For using them to her advantage. I loved her confidence.
And then it all unravelled.
The night I thought we’d share had become this.
I feel like I’m halfway down a river, there’s a waterfall at the end and the current is going too fast to turn back. I am at the whim of the tide and it’s definitely turned against me.
* * *
I can’t breathe. I stare at the front door, and it’s as though my body has been tortured, or silenced, as though I am withering from the inside.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to think.
Noah is going to have sex with that woman. And I’m what? Going to let him? I can’t. I have to do something.
But what?
Barge in there? Pull him off her? What good is fidelity if it’s achieved through such measures? I grip the railing and move down the steps slowly, my body feeling bruised all over.
The Season to Sin Page 14
