‘Yeah? When were you going to tell me all this?’ Stephen demanded.
Jo smiled wryly. ‘Tonight. So you can stop giving me that look.’
‘What look?’
‘The one that makes you resemble a constipated duck.’
‘A what?’
They teased each other for a while, enjoying their meal and going through almost the entire bottle of wine before Stephen brought the topic back to where he wanted it.
‘So have you thought about what you’re going to do now you’ve quit your job? I mean, I love my job. Can’t imagine what I’d do if I couldn’t do it.’
‘And you’re good at it,’ Jo added.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. I mean . . . yeah, I’m good at it.’ He shrugged at Jo’s knowing look. ‘Anyway, you must have something you want to do.’
Jo played with her chopsticks for a while. ‘Well . . . you can’t laugh, all right?’
Stephen felt an intense rush of tenderness. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Spill the beans.’
‘Well . . . it’s sort of silly, and it’s something every chemical engineer in university dreams of being at one stage or another.’
‘What?’ Stephen asked. ‘I’m not a chemical engineer. I studied business and marketing. Fill me in.’
‘Well, I’ve thought about starting up a microbrewery,’ Jo said, eyes focused on the bowl of rice in front of her. ‘I’ve got the capital, and I have an old friend from university who’s a brewmaster. A good one who I know would love to be a part of setting something up.’ She peeked shyly at him.
Stephen had to smile at that. ‘So why aren’t you doing it?’
‘I’m scared.’ Jo shrugged self-consciously. ‘It’s a daft idea, really. Just something I’ve been playing around with . . .’
Stephen cut her off. ‘It’s not daft. Hey! You’re talking to a guy whose dad decided to plant a few grapevines one day just to see if they’d make a buck.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t have what your dad has.’
‘What would that be?’
‘You,’ Jo said simply, meeting his gaze and holding it. ‘If it weren’t for you, the wine-making side of Evangeline’s Rest would still be tiny like it was when we were kids. You’ve taken the label international, and you’ve promoted it Australia-wide. I bet the winery makes more than the rest of the farm nowadays because of you.’
It did, a hell of a lot more, but Stephen wasn’t going to say it. ‘How do you know I’m responsible for all that?’
‘I’ve kept up with you over the years.’ She averted her eyes.
‘How?’
‘W-well, it’s common knowledge.’ She was blushing. ‘I mean, I’m friends with Scott, and he’s kept me updated here and there.’
‘You been stalking me, Jo Blaine?’ he asked, unable to prevent the amusement dripping from his words.
‘No! I was just curious. You were the boss’s son, right? It’s natural I’d be interested. Anyway, I’d rather we didn’t talk about this. It’s kind of embarrassing.’ Jo played with the food on her plate for a bit then took a sip of wine.
‘Don’t stop there,’ Stephen said, both intrigued and exasperated. He had a gut feeling all this was tied somehow to the photo he’d seen in Jo’s room. The one she’d hidden. But she wouldn’t talk about it, didn’t want him to see it, and he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what she’d looked like back then.
Jo shook her head. ‘Let’s just forget it. Tell me about you. What was it like to go to boarding school?’ Her eyes were huge, expression pleading.
Stephen fought the urge to be stubborn, suppressed his frustration and began talking. Telling Jo about what it had been like to leave his dad and Angie for the first time, how much he’d enjoyed his schooling in the city and how it had helped him decide he wanted to help out the winery in a more white-collar capacity instead of physically working on the farm like Clayton. As they ate their meal, Jo appeared to hang off his every word, asking questions and impressing him repeatedly with how much she knew about him and his industry already. It only served to show how little he knew about her and left him feeling as if he’d failed her somehow.
Impulsively, he reached out and stroked Jo’s cheek.
‘You do have me,’ he said before he could stop himself and then felt a little silly at the sentimentality implicit in those words.
Her eyes, huge with surprise, met his. ‘What?’
‘You do have me. If you want to set up a business, a brewery, I’ll help you out,’ he said, smoothly covering up his gaffe before taking another sip of wine.
She gave him a searching look before her face split into a brilliant smile that left him feeling as if he’d climbed a mountain.
‘Thanks. That means a lot.’ Her voice caught on the words, and she cleared her throat nervously and changed the topic to what they’d have for dessert.
Jo’s dad burst through the apartment door, rifle in hand, clothes splattered with blood, Shirley’s blood. He screamed, not words, but a high-pitched hysterical wail, before raising the gun and firing. The bullet ripped through Stephen’s chest, blood spraying out as it exited through his back before continuing its trajectory into Amy, hitting her in the forehead, shattering her skull, spattering blood all over Jo’s face, over her outstretched hands, as she stood helpless, staring in horror. She opened her mouth to scream, tried to run towards her dad to stop him, but couldn’t move, couldn’t make a noise.
Tears streaming down her face, feeling bile rise in her throat, she waited for her father to turn the gun on her, but instead he just stood there, holding the rifle at his side, staring at her with blank, lifeless eyes.
‘This is your fault.’ An accusing voice came from behind her. She spun around to see a fourteen-year-old Scott looking the way he had the day he’d helped Amy and Jo leave home, finger pointing at Amy’s and Stephen’s lifeless bodies, expression full of hate.
‘Jo! Jo! Jesus Christ . . . we can’t do this every night. Jo.’ Jo’s entire body jerked as she fought the paralysis stopping her from running.
‘JO!’
She flailed with her arms, connecting solidly with something soft. Stephen’s grunt of pain snapped her out of the nightmare.
‘Dammit! Watch that knee!’ He yelped as she focused wild, frantic eyes on his face.
‘Stephen?’ She sat up suddenly, her breathing shallow and frantic.
‘Last time I looked,’ he muttered watching her warily. ‘Another nightmare?’
Jo stared blankly at him before running shaking hands over her face, feeling wetness as if she’d been crying. ‘Yeah. Yeah. God! That was so real. So real,’ she said faintly before noticing his hand clutching his stomach and felt her breath catch in her lungs. It had been a dream. Surely it had been a dream. ‘Are you all right?’
‘As right as someone who’s just been sucker-punched in the gut and almost neutered. Remind me never to really piss you off,’ he grouched, but his expression was worried. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘No, let’s just go back to sleep.’
‘Ah. Sleep.’ Stephen sighed. ‘Slight problem there, isn’t there? C’mon, Jo, tell me what’s going on. The first night was okay. Everyone has nightmares now and then. The second night was pushing it, but fair enough. Five nights running is ridiculous. Look at you.’ He swung his legs off the side of the bed and waved in her general direction. ‘You look like a ghost. I’m lying awake at night worrying about you. I’m not sleeping. You’re not sleeping. It’s crazy.’
‘I’ve got to get a drink.’ Jo shook her head, ignoring him. ‘I’ll be better after that. Maybe a cup of tea.’
‘Screw the tea!’ Stephen snarled, shooting to his feet and stalking out of the room. She heard him clattering in the kitchen cupboards, doing what he had done the last few nights, making her a cup of tea as she’d asked—except this time he wasn’t gently asking her what was wrong.
He returned a few moments later, tea sloshing over the rim of the mug as he
thrust it at her. ‘Start talking.’ His expression said clearly that he wasn’t going to take any bullshit.
Jo took a sip of her tea then wrinkled her nose when she found it too hot. She leaned over and set it down on the bedside table before looking Stephen directly in the eyes. ‘It was just a nightmare, all right?’
‘Yep. That’s fine. So why are you having one every night? It’s like a goddamn war zone in this bed. Last night I got woken up with a hook to my jaw. Tonight I got thumped in the gut. It’s not like you’re doing any lasting damage, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’ve got a hell of a lot of questions and you keep avoiding the answers. I’m over it.’
Jo looked down at his taut stomach. There didn’t appear to be any sign of bruising, but she felt sick at the thought of hurting him.
‘Come on, babe, talk to me,’ Stephen said more calmly. ‘Maybe telling me whatever your nightmares are about will stop them turning up again. You know, the whole better-out-than-in thing.’
She was already shaking her head before he finished talking. There was no way she could simply blurt out the whole repugnant tale about her childhood. Never mind the immediate risk of her dad’s retaliation if Stephen got her father fired. Of more immediate importance to Jo was how he’d react to her. Would he be disgusted? Repulsed? Psycho-furious she’d lied to him? They hadn’t been together long enough for her to dump this kind of thing into the mix.
As if reading her mind, Stephen sat down on the bed and put a large warm, hand on her shoulder, stilling the shivers running up and down her spine. ‘We’ve got something good here, Jo, but it’s not going to work if you don’t let me in. Hell, I don’t care about losing sleep. What’s killing me is that you’re keeping so much to yourself when I could be there for you.’
‘Ahh.’ Jo groaned. ‘Stephen . . .’ She reached for him, and he pulled her instantly into a warm hug, bare skin on skin, so comforting, and so easy to pretend things were fine.
‘Come on, babe. Please.’ It was the please that did it.
Jo gripped him tightly against her before pushing away. His face was shadowed with worry, concern and the ever-present frustration that she knew was going to break through any time now.
Seeing that, she made a decision. She couldn’t tell him everything, but maybe she could share a little of the reason behind her fears. Maybe that would be enough for now.
‘Stay here,’ she said abruptly, letting go of him and sliding off the bed.
‘Why?’
‘Because I asked you to. I’m trying here, okay?’ Her voice carried some of the ache, some of the fear she was feeling. God. She hoped she wasn’t making a major mistake.
Stephen got the message and nodded. ‘All right,’ he said warily. ‘How long are you going to be? You’re not leaving or anything, are you?’
‘No . . . just wait here.’ Feeling naked for the first time that night, Jo reached down and picked up one of Stephen’s discarded T-shirts, pulling it over her head in a swift movement.
Stephen’s expression softened with relief. ‘Okay, as long as you need, babe.’
‘Thanks,’ Jo said, because it felt like the right thing to say. She waited until he settled back on the bed and then made her way to her bedroom, feeling her heart pounding a hole through her ribs the entire way.
Jo slid the framed photograph from under her bed and hung it back on the wall. It had been too much to hope for that Stephen wouldn’t notice she’d hidden it away anyway. He’d asked a few times during the last week about it, and now, a day before she was due to fly out to Mauritania for the last time, she’d finally come to the conclusion that no matter how much she wanted to pretend it wasn’t there, her past was well and truly a part of her present.
‘Stephen, can you come in here?’ she called. The way her voice cracked with nervousness made her wince.
‘Yeah. Sure.’ It was only seconds before he was standing behind her, arms around her waist, pulling her back against his bare chest. After a while she let herself relax, her body moulding into his, her face falling back until she felt the stubble on his cheek softly scratching her ear.
‘Want to tell me about it?’ he asked after a while.
‘No.’
‘You’re going to, though, aren’t you?’ he prompted.
‘Yeah. A bit of it.’ Jo pulled away from him a little and turned until her eyes met his. ‘I don’t want to—can’t—tell you all of it right now.’ She heard his sharply indrawn breath. ‘No, don’t argue, please. I just need you to understand that I will. Soon.’
‘When?’ Stephen went still behind her.
‘Next time I’m home. I promise.’ She tensed herself against him, waiting for a rejection.
He stood, body rigid for an excruciatingly painful couple of seconds before heaving a sigh. ‘Tell me the story behind this photo and why you didn’t want me to see it.’
Jo paused, looking up at the picture. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Stephen must have sensed her hesitation. He pointed at the boy in the photo. ‘Jo, this is me, right? It’s not like I didn’t know what you looked like then. Who you were then. Well, who everyone thought you were then. Come on, I know all about the “Rabies” thing. I know that’s what the kids used to call you. I know you were poor. I know you looked different. I’m so sorry for being a part of that but I can’t undo it, as much as I want to. But at least you know I know a bit about what you went through, yeah?’ He squeezed her reassuringly as he said the words, but that didn’t stop her flinching. Didn’t stop the tears forming in her eyes.
‘Come on, sweetheart,’ Stephen murmured. ‘I’m here for you.’
A small, soft sob wrenched up from her chest, and she bowed her head.
‘Let it out, babe,’ Stephen prompted again.
‘Look at the photo, Stephen. I mean look at it. I was a fat, revolting, ugly loser.’ Jo’s face twisted into a mask of hatred for her youthful self.
‘If you thought you were so bad, why hang that’—Stephen gestured to the picture on the wall—’where you can see it every day?’
‘Because as pathetic as it sounds, that summer was the happiest in my entire childhood. Amy and I were out camping, and we met Scott that day. It was the first time I’d made a real friend. Someone other than Amy who liked me, who accepted me.’ Her voice caught and she took a moment to calm herself. ‘Ever since . . . ever since you stuck up for me against Jeff on the bus a few weeks before, I’d grown this crush on you, and watching you that day . . . watching you with your family . . . I wished I could be a part of that. A part of you. You had it all. I know you lost your mum when you were a kid, but you had Angie. You had your dad and your uncle and your brothers and Rachael. A family.’ She paused, gasping in a watery breath of air.
‘Hey. You had Amy and your parents,’ Stephen said gruffly.
Jo repressed a shudder and drew a shaky breath. ‘Yeah, I had Amy and Scott too later. My parents? That’s complicated.’
‘What do you mean? I noticed you and your dad don’t get on.’
‘That’s an understatement.’ Jo shuddered.
‘I’m so sorry about that.’
Jo felt her chest clench at the regret in Stephen’s tone. She knew he was blaming himself for causing some kind of rift in her family but she couldn’t put him straight. Not yet.
‘I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know. What happened that night after the party? What happened after you girls moved to Perth? You’ve never talked about that aunt you stayed with or said anything other than mentioning going to uni and getting your job. What happened?’ Stephen asked quietly, determination edging his tone.
Panic ballooned in Jo’s chest until her lungs felt as if they didn’t have any room. ‘This is way too heavy for me right now. I can’t do this. Let me go. This is so messed up. Stephen, I can’t do this. It’s not going to work.’ She tried to pull away from him again, but he didn’t let her.
‘What are you trying to say,
Jo?’ His arms were steel bands around her waist.
‘What am I trying to say?’ Jo asked herself, tears falling freely down her face. ‘Well, I guess what I’m trying to say, to ask, is what’s going on? Why are we here right now? How is it that Stephen Hardy ends up with Jo Blaine? No, Rabies Blaine, the fat kid, the poor girl who wears the secondhand clothes that everyone makes fun of. How does that happen? Everything works for you. You have everything. All I have is this messed-up past and half a family.’
‘Hey. Not true and you know it, you’re just too exhausted at the moment to see it. We’re not the kids in the picture. That was years ago. Eighteen years, for Christ’s sake. Are you going to give me and you a bit of credit and acknowledge people can change? Situations can change. You can change. I can change. That it might not matter to me who you were then? That I might want to know everything about you? That I might care?’
Jo made a noise of denial, but Stephen continued.
‘I was an immature little prick back then, Jo. When I think of the way I treated you that time when you came to our Christmas party with Scott and what happened after . . . I feel so ashamed. And you know the stupid thing? All I could think of that night was how Scott got someone so hot like you when I was still a virgin. You know I followed Scott when he met you at the dam his first night on the farm that year?’
Stunned, Jo shook her head.
‘Well, I did, and all I saw was my cousin with a hot, nearly naked chick. I was so psycho-jealous, I could have killed him. It made it even worse when I realised it was you, and you’d been under my nose for years,’ he said, his voice incredulous.
Ignoring his hold on her, Jo twisted in his arms. ‘Really?’ she asked, eyes wide in disbelief.
He met her gaze before dropping an incredibly gentle kiss on her half-open lips. ‘Really. And now the great thing, the fantastic thing, is that I have you. I’m not the one watching any more.’
‘I can’t digest this,’ Jo said.
‘Well, get used to it,’ Stephen said, pulling her tighter against him. ‘Is that all that’s causing the nightmares?’ he asked against her hair.
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 21
