by Jessica Ames
“Well, clearly you don’t love him because I’d live on the moon if it meant being with Garrett.”
I smile. “That’s what Cal said.”
Then I realise that is what Callum said. My sister’s patience seems to be wearing.
“He said that and you’re still sitting here why?”
“Because my life is here, Lil. My family, my friends, my job. His life is there. Either way one of us gets shafted and giving up your whole life is only going to lead to resentment.”
“Says who?” Emily asks.
“What?”
“Who says it’ll lead to resentment?”
“Well… me.”
“Take a look around you.” I do, even though I get the feeling her question is rhetorical. “I love London, Sadie, and I love you but home isn’t a place. It’s where your heart is. And if your heart is with him then you go wherever he is and vice versa.”
“It’s still such early days though. What if one of us moves and it doesn’t work out? We haven’t even told each other how we feel about one another.”
“Girl, if you can’t see how serious he is about your relationship then there’s no helping you.”
I know he’s serious; that’s not the issue. That’s never been the issue. The problem is the fact that we’re from completely different worlds and I don’t know how we reconcile that.
Then again, failing to try means being without him… and I don’t know that I can do that either. Breaking up with him last night was the most painful moment of my life (outside my father dying). I cried for three hours straight and then fell into a restless sleep that was plagued by nightmares.
“So have you broken up with him?” Lilliana asks.
“I tried.”
“You tried?”
“He wouldn’t let me.”
“What do you mean, he wouldn’t let you?” Emily asks.
“Well, he said I should take a week—or however long I need—to consider if I want to end things.”
Both of them let out a displeased moan. “Okay, if you don’t husband him,” Emily says, “I will. The man is perfection. What in the hell are you playing at?”
She’s not wrong, he is perfection. I didn’t text him this morning and he didn’t message me either—giving me the space he promised he would. I groan into my hands.
“What am I doing?”
“I don’t fucking know! Prince Charming rode up to you, offered you the kingdom, the castle and the happily ever after and you told him to jog on.” Emily snatches up her glass and takes a long swig. My sister glares at the alcohol, as if wishing she too was able to drink, her hand going to her cute baby bump.
“I didn’t tell him to jog on.” I sound a little sullen and a whole lot defensive.
“Well, I think you’re absolutely off the wall crazy, woman.”
“So do I,” my sister agrees. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll call him and tell him you had a moment of insanity, that your judgement lapsed but you’re fine now and will happily move to an island or to outer fucking space if he asks it.”
“But you’re having a baby.” She’s six months along and already I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.
Lilliana and Emily exchange looks. “What gave it away? The bad temper? The vomiting or the fact I look like I’ve swallowed a bowling ball?”
The sarcasm from them both is starting to grate. Seriously, I know she’s pregnant and so does anyone with eyes.
“I meant I don’t want to leave London when you’re having a baby.”
Lil considers me for a moment then leans across the table to grab my hand. “My beautiful big sister. You’ve always spent your life thinking about others and what their needs are, but it’s time to think about you. I’ll be fine. I have Garrett, and I have Mum and Dad.”
“But I want to be here for you.”
“It’s a few hours journey, and there’s video calling, telephones, messages… we live in a modern technological age.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Darling,” Emily interjects, “life is short and love is often fleeting. When you find a love that is lasting, that is consuming and makes you happy then you have to seize it. Since you’ve been with Callum you’ve been different—lighter. I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like you’re a different person altogether and I love it. He does what a partner should do—brings out the best of your qualities. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared of committing.”
“I’m not scared—”
“Just consider carefully what you’re going to do here because there’s no second chances, no taking it back once you walk away. And you have to consider whether you can live with knowing you did walk away.”
Can I do that? I’m not sure.
My phone rings suddenly, pulling me out of my musings and I glance down at the screen.
UNKNOWN CALLING.
I consider letting it go to voicemail; most likely it’s a sales call, but something pushes my finger to swipe across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Is this Sadie?” an unfamiliar voice asks.
“This is she, yes.”
“Fuck… My name’s Alex. You’re dating my cousin.”
Past tense; I was dating his cousin. I would mention that but a tendril of unease goes through me. Why is he calling me?
“Is Callum all right?”
He lets out a groan down the line. “Not really. There was an incident on the boat. He went into the water. When we got him out he wasn’t breathing. Docs have him in the ICU but…”
I don’t hear anything else he says because all I’m focused on is the fact he wasn’t breathing, which I’m pretty sure is a prerequisite for living.
“Is he… is he dead?” My voice hitches and Emily and my sister exchange glances.
“He’s in the ICU—”
“Which hospital?”
“Exeter General.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up and instantly both Em and Lil are on me.
“What’s going on?” Lilliana demands.
“Callum had an accident on the boat. I… I need to get to Exeter.”
My brain is short circuiting. Fuck, what if he dies? What if he dies and I never get to sort things out with him? My stupid freak out suddenly seems just that—stupid.
I push that out of my head and try to remember what I need to do.
“I’ll call my father,” Emily says, “see if I can borrow a car.”
“Thank you.”
I just hope he’s okay. I need him to be okay, because I love him.
I love him.
Shit. I love Callum Vanstone.
And I may never get to tell him that now.
Epilogue
Sadie
Six months’ later..
The air is cold today. There’s a definite nip in the air. I’m wrapped up in my winter warmers so I don’t feel so bad but I would definitely like to be back inside in the heat. I watch as the sea crashes against the harbour wall, spraying salt water over the top of it and I feel a hint of trepidation wash through me as I stare out over the horizon. I can’t see the mainland properly, although there are a few twinkling lights in the distance, barely visible through the dusk light. I know I shouldn’t feel worried; he’s done this run a hundred times, but I can’t help the anxiety crawling up my spine. He should have been back half an hour ago; where is he?
It’s then I see the lights on the boat, bobbing closer to the dock and my body relaxes. Thank God.
I don’t know why I do it to myself, but I wait for him every night on the dock. After Callum went into the water, it gave me a whole new appreciation of just how dangerous his job is. A full week in the ICU was enough to age me twenty years. It was also enough for me to realise what this man means to me. All my doubts, all my uncertainty slipped away when I was faced with the prospect of losing him. My sister and Emily had asked me if I could walk away from him, and I realised
in that moment, when I thought there was a possibility I could lose him, that I couldn’t.
As soon as Callum was released from the hospital, I moved in with him. It made sense; he needed to be looked after and I wanted to do it. I took a week’s holiday and I took care of my guy. After a week living on Kildirk, in Callum’s house, seeing the islanders coming and going, I realised it wasn’t that bad and I also realised that Emily was right when she said home is not a place. It is about people. When I went back to London, I tried to slot back into my everyday life but I couldn’t. I missed him; I needed him.
And he felt the same.
So, I wrapped up my life in London and I moved to Kildirk.
Callum offered to come to London, and I considered the merits of both places before I decided we should live together on the island. There’s something about the slower pace and the fresh air that is relaxing. It didn’t take me long to fall into that lifestyle at all. In fact, it came easier than I thought it would. Do I miss London? No, not really. I miss Mum and Henry, Lil and Garrett, my gorgeous nephew Jacob, Emily and Mel. But I don’t miss my old life.
I watch as the boat chugs up next to the moorings and the engine cuts. A shiver of anticipation goes through me as the lights go off on the boat and I hear voices. I recognise the men they belong to immediately. Over the past few months, I’ve come to know Mace and Tanner and while there was a whole lot of weirdness between me and Mace at first, we’ve found some kind of middle ground. Alex and me hit it off right away. Callum’s cousin is so different from him but they have a lot of shared traits.
I wait while the lads go through their usual routines to secure the boat to the moorings, getting impatient as I watch my man working. I’m itching to get my hands on him, but I know he needs to do this before we can go home.
Home.
That feels good to say.
I never felt like I had a home with Richard. Sure, we had four walls and a physical roof over our heads, but he was not my home, not in the way Callum is. We could live in the back of a car and I’d still be happy.
The four men start up the walkway towards land—towards me. Callum looks tired, his hair sticking up but he looks whole and healthy. My relief is a palpable thing as I wait for him to reach me.
“Hey, Sadie,” Tanner says with a wave as he continues up past us. Mace and Alex are on his heels. They’ll probably head to The Lighthouse after a shower and food—that’s their usual routine and these boys are nothing if not predictable.
“Hey, Tanner. Guys,” I say, addressing the other two men.
Alex grins at me but Mace gives me a chin lift, which is progress between us. He’s still finding me being in Cal’s life difficult but he’s getting there. I get it; it’s hard for him, but I’m also here to stay. Callum is mine and he needs to understand that I’m not giving him up. Nearly losing him in the boating accident was more than enough to have me re-evaluate my priorities—including my job.
I still work for the company, but I now work remotely. It’s a bit tricky sometimes because the internet can be dodgy here, but so far it hasn’t been too bad. Once a week, I travel into London and meet with my team and the board to talk through what we need to implement.
Callum walks up to me and stands in front of me, giving me that lopsided smile that makes my knees weak.
I can smell the salt air on him, smell the fish but I don’t care. This is who he is. Still, I wrinkle my nose.
“You stink.”
His lips quirk at the corners. “Love you too, babe.”
His cold hands cup my face and he pulls me in for a kiss. I melt against him. I love this man. I love him. And kissing him is my favourite thing to do. The thought I could have lost him terrifies me, but it also made me wake up and smell the reality. I have no idea how I fell for this man so fast, but I did.
He breaks the kiss and drapes an arm around my shoulders, drawing me against his side—one of my favourite places to be.
“How was your day?” he asks as we start up the dock, heading towards the path that will take us back to the cottage.
“Same old, same old.”
“Yeah? What’s same old, same old entail then?”
“You don’t want to hear about my boring day.”
He kisses my temple. “I love hearing about your day. Especially the boring ones.”
I thump him in the gut and he grunts. “My girl is fiery.”
And I am. I’m pretty sure he loves that about me though. At least, I hope he does. “I’ve made fish pie for dinner,” I tell him.
“That sounds amazing. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
I snort at him. “If this is just a way to get more pie, flattery will get you nowhere.”
He stops our walk and kisses me again. “It’s definitely a way to get more pie.”
I roll my eyes, but I know he’s joking. He loves me and not just because of my pie. At least, I don’t think so.
But my man does like pie. Then again, so do I. It’s just one of the many things that we have in common because Callum and I are perfectly matched.
Also by Jessica Ames
Lost Saxons
Snared Rider
Safe Rider
Secret Rider
Standalones
Match Me Perfect
The Rift Between
Excerpt of Snared Rider
Chapter One
Kingsley train station is nothing more than two platforms and a timetable board. It sits in the once bustling town of the same name between the motorway and the canal, surrounded by cheap, low-quality housing. This was not always the case. At one time Kingsley had money and it was obvious it did. Like many northern towns in the UK, it grew around the coal mines. Now, the industry that made it affluent is long gone and the only hint it ever existed is the graveyard of collieries scattered throughout the town.
Alighting from the carriage, I shift my rucksack on my shoulders and take in the familiar landscape. It’s twilight, so the sky in the distance is a hazy orange as the sun starts its descent behind the rolling hills. On the far side of the plat‐ form, one lamp illuminates the concrete, and it is under this light I see a familiar figure waiting for me.
He’s leaning against the iron railings that surround the platform and tracks, his large frame out of place. He’s also the only person here, which is not unexpected as I am the only person who got off the train.
Spotting me, he takes a long drag of his cigarette, the ember on the end glowing before he moves to the bin to stub it out.
As he turns, I catch the back of his leather kutte—a sleeveless jacket worn by Club members—and the insignia so familiar I could draw it in my sleep: two crossed swords dripping blood onto a skull wearing a helmet. It has a T-cross piece over the skeletal nose and the eye sockets are red, burning coals. In a half circle across the top (the top rocker) it says ‘Lost Saxons’, the bottom circle (or bottom rocker) says ‘Kingsley’. The MC (motorcycle club) patch sits in the middle of the two, to the right of the insignia, and the one-percent patch that declares these men live outside the law above that. He wears it like a second skin, which is unsurprising given his long history with the Club. Like me, Dean is third generation Saxon, meaning he was born into this life.
I cross the small space between us and come to stand in front of him, unable to stop my lips lifting at the corners. It’s been, what? Ten months since I last saw him. I’m surprised by how different he looks. Then, his hair was buzzed close to his scalp. Now, it’s only shaved on either side, but the hair on top is long enough to style.
His head dips as his gaze roves over my face, searching, seeking. What he’s looking for I don’t know, but whatever it is he finds because his expression relaxes. Then, his eyes go over my shoulder and his brows draw together.
“That bag all you brought?” His voice is deep, the gravelly rumble of a man who smokes and drinks more than he should. Like most men in the Club, Dean does everything more than he should.
I gl
ance at the rucksack slung across my back in confusion. “Yeah, why?”
I hear the train doors slide shut behind me as his shoulders shift.
“You don’t seem to have packed a lot, which tells me you’re not staying for long.”
Now, he sounds annoyed. I resist the urge to tell him I’m not sixteen but thirty-years-old—old enough to make my own decisions, but I don’t let my temper flare; there’s no point. Every time I come to Kingsley it’s the same shit.
Why don’t you move back?
Stay for longer.
We miss you.
Kingsley is your home.
I know my family wants me here, but what I can’t make them understand is London is my home now. My life is no longer in this small town; I have a good job in the capital, friends and a lifestyle I enjoy (most of the time).
I also make good money, something I could never do in Kingsley. The town traded its coal industry for call centres and food services—minimum wage jobs that barely cover the rent. Most people living here rely on government handouts to manage day-to-day. The town is dying on its feet and I doubt even the long-time residents can stay for much longer. I suspect the only people making any money in Kingsley is the Club.
Coming back here would change my life, and not in a good way. For a marketing graduate there aren’t any opportunities. I’m not sure a single business in this town knows what marketing is.
But it’s more than just a lack of job prospects. I left for a reason. A very, very good reason.
Logan Harlow.
Being in town, seeing him, it’s too hard. The pain is still too fresh, even close to a decade later. Of course, Dean doesn’t know this. No one knows Logan is the reason I fled hundreds of miles from home.
