And there it was, the crux of the problem. Not that Alannah had sexual partners prior to him—though the thought of her with someone else felt like acid in his gut—but the idea that she had been mistreated, had been hurt, by someone she trusted, someone who wasn't just her live-in booty call but had the honour of calling Al his. Who got the milestones with her—who took her out regularly enough that no one bothered staring. Who gave her a ring.
The mix of outrage and soul-deep jealousy was vitriolic, and it felt like it was eating away at his chest.
"Not necessarily anything," Jamie said, oblivious to Rex's internal turmoil. "That's what I'm trying to say. Harry isn't a bad bloke; he was just a mess last night. And not at Alannah, remember. He was pissed at you."
"But I wasn't here, mate. Who looked after her when I wasn't here?"
"All of us. Whole town looks out for her. Someone gets left on their own, that's what we do. You might know that if you hadn't fucked off the minute you left school."
"I didn't mean…" Rex halted, memories flickering to the front of his mind. The way Al responded when he called her cautious or sensible, shrinking in on herself. The savage wildness she never let out unless the two of them were alone. What would it have been like, losing your sole parent at twenty-one and inheriting the well-meaning scrutiny of their entire town?
"Maybe you should be talking to her." The older man met Rex's eyes again. "Go home, kid. Job'll be here tomorrow."
Instead, Rex called the real estate agent from his car. It was time to stop living in limbo. Something had roared to life in his head when he considered that Al had been with someone, engaged to someone, for long enough to have milestones: a longing that was so big and sharp that it felt like there was no space left for air in his chest. He needed a way to convince Al to make what was between them something permanent, and he wanted to have something to offer. Harry's words echoed in his head. 'I was giving her a life. I was giving her a home.'
"Simon," Rex barked when the phone was answered. "Have you got that list of houses for me yet?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. When can I take you around them?"
"My afternoon's just freed up. Do you have time for me today?"
"Give me a minute to check the diary."
"Sure." With nothing but the silence that filled the car, Rex thought his head might blow off. This must be how insanity began. He wanted to clamber out and run, to pace until some of this painful anxious energy dispersed.
"You there, mate?" Simon said.
"Still here."
"Swing by the office any time. I'm just doing paperwork today."
Finally, something to do, a goal to complete. A direction to point his restless feet. Rex ignored the ominous whine that had started accompanying his car's engine revving—he really should get that checked out—and pulled out into the street.
Simon might have been surprised when Rex showed up barely ten minutes after their phone conversation concluded, but he hid it well. He'd clearly come prepared, settling them into a conference room with two brightly coloured binders and a sheaf of miscellaneous paperwork.
"I spoke to your mum a few days ago," he said casually. "She mentioned you might be in the market to buy sometime soon, so my first list is for properties with shorter-term leasing options." He gestured to one binder. "These are available for month-by-month lease or on short term contracts, six to twelve months. I also made a list for minimum twelve-month contracts." He gestured to the other binder, which was considerably larger. "How long are you looking to stay in a rental?"
"Long as it takes to find somewhere I like enough to buy, I guess." Rex said. "I'm in no rush."
"Ballpark?"
"No idea, mate. Shorter term is probably better?" How had he reached the age of twenty-six without ever having to sign a damn lease? Probably because he never stayed still long enough to need somewhere to live. "Twelve months or less, at a guess? Does that sound right?"
"Let's start with those, then. I'll show you some places, and if you like any of them, I'll organise a time for us to swing by and have a poke around. Do you have a deadline to move in to somewhere new? Alannah kicking you out?"
Rex stiffened at the mention of her name. "What?"
"Can't be easy, being that close to your parents after so long away. I love my family, but they drive me nuts. Seeing them for Sunday dinner is enough for me."
"What? No, my parents are fine," Rex managed. "Family's fine. Moved back to be closer to them."
"That changes things a bit. I didn't put Alannah's house on the shortlist, because I didn't know if you'd be comfortable staying that close to home. But it's a different story if you're going to be looking after your parents."
Something ticked over in Rex's head, and he felt one eye twitch. "Wait, mate. One, I'm not looking after my parents. They'd laugh me out of Shepherd's Creek if I suggested it. Two, why is Al's place on the list?"
"For when she leaves. Silly to leave a house just standing empty for that long, especially one so nice. Something about the firm getting a contract for a big development, so Al's going to be onsite for the most of the build."
"Roll it back, mate," Rex said, feeling like he'd lost the thread of the conversation so completely, he barely even counted as a participant anymore. "Why do you have Alannah's house as a listing? There's no way she needs a lodger. She fought me when I tried to give her money for groceries."
Simon laughed. "It's not a lodger once she's in Mansfield, mate."
Ice spread through Rex's stomach. "What? When?"
Simon gave him a confused look.
"Is it available?" Rex finished, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "The house, that is. Al's house. When is Alannah's house… available?"
"I'd have to check my calendar for the exact date. Soon after she leaves, because she wants to let it mostly furnished. Few weeks, give or take a day or two. Six-month contract to start with, but we're hoping to find a tenant who'll extend it to a year at least. We've had a few people interested, but no one's signed yet."
"So she'll be gone… I mean, the house will be available for at least a year?"
"She's set a maximum of two years for now. She's just about the most prepared landlord I've ever worked with. Most people have maybe one contingency plan if they can't let the property for what they were expecting. She has three."
"That's, uh…" Rex paused, reeling, "…that's a lot of plans."
"It's a good move, really, given she's not sure she'll be back any time soon. It'd make my life easier if everyone did it, but not everyone's as bloody sensible as Alannah Green, right?"
"Right," Rex said woodenly.
"Still, exciting that she won the contract. Fiona told my sister it's a really big deal for the firm. Opens Al up for a lot of bigger corporate jobs."
God, he'd forgotten how news travelled in this town. Odds were, everyone already knew Al was leaving. Everyone saw them together and thought he was aware he was just tiding her over until she left town—until she left him—for whatever bigger, brighter, more exciting, more worthy opportunities awaited her.
Leaving.
So perfectly timed, it felt as though some higher power was answering a prayer he hadn't even made yet, Rex's phone rang. He fumbled it from his pocket—Jared, excellent—and answered with an apologetic look at Simon, who gestured as if to say, take your time. "What's up, mate?"
Rex stood and faced away from Simon as though his conversation required privacy—it didn't—and barely listened as Jared spoke, planning his exit strategy. He hung up while Jared was still speaking. "I'm sorry, Si, I've gotta take off. Family stuff. Let's go through the rest of these another time?" Simon started in on when they could meet, but Rex clapped him on the shoulder and all but ran out the door.
Somehow, he'd been storing the knowledge that Al worked from home on Tuesdays in the back of his brain, so he didn't have to barge past the receptionist at her office. His car was rattling so loudly, it felt like his teeth were shaking loose in his
head, and he hardly remembered to remove his keys from the ignition before he was bursting into the house and taking the stairs three at a time to Alannah's study.
She was at her drawing table, standing hunched over in the way that he knew hurt her back because he'd massaged the kinks out of her spine half a dozen times, but she straightened like someone had cracked a whip when he burst into the room. Part of Rex wished he had a whip in hand, or maybe the belt she eyed with poorly disguised heat every time he wore it, just so he could push them back into the place where they walked the line between pain and pleasure. But they weren't in that space; they were in her office in the middle of the day, and there were cardboard boxes by her filing cabinet and her desk that were half packed up.
Al took in his appearance, and clearly, he looked all kinds of wrong because she came around the desk and lurched in his direction, hands out as if to soothe him. "What's wrong? Did Harry—"
"You're leaving."
Her movement arrested just feet from him, and the lack of her touch was a physical ache. Rex forced himself to focus not on her shaking hands but the expressions that tangled across her face. For the briefest of moments, she was relieved that nothing had happened with Harry Mitchell; then the reality of his words set in, and her face fell. Rex wasn't sure what he'd expected—in truth, he wasn't even sure what he would have wanted, beyond the fact that it wasn't this. It wasn't the look on Alannah's face that mixed trepidation with determination, because he knew that look, knew it signified the stubbornness that made her strong and the self-doubt that tried to undermine her. He didn't want the way Al sagged like the wind had been taken out of her sails then straightened her shoulders and her spine, visibly strengthening herself to stand up to him. The movement looked familiar, as though she was used to being shaken to her foundations and having to rebuild.
"Yes," Al said, though his statement hadn't been a question.
"In three weeks."
"Two and a half."
He couldn't breathe. "Were you going to tell me? Or did you think you could just start packing up the house around me and hope I didn't notice?"
"No! Yes. I was going to tell you."
"When?" He hated how much it sounded like he was pleading.
"I don't know! I was waiting for the right time."
"The right time? Two weeks is the length of notice you give when you leave a job. Not when you leave a—"
"What?" Al asked, and he watched as the temper roiled up in her like a rising tide, until her eyes were sparking fire. "What are you to me, that I'm suddenly so accountable to you?"
"I don't know. I've been trying to work that out, but you won't let me."
"Because I won't be here!"
Rex's breath rushed out of him like he'd been punched in the solar plexus. "So what was I? A rebound? A quickie adventure to tide you over until you leave?"
"Yes!" Al shouted back. "You came home after eight years away, and I'm supposed to know you've suddenly become the kind of person who wants to be tied down? Who wants labels? I wanted something free, for once in my life, no strings attached, no responsibilities. No one looking over my shoulder and reminding me to be careful. I wasn't meant to matter to you. I was supposed to just be brave, not looking for the safety net. Who said you had any right to just—just weave one underneath me?"
"Are you seriously upset that I want more with you?" Rex asked, disbelieving.
"Yes!" Al cried. "You took the only brave thing I've done in years and made it safe. You undermined me. You were supposed to be my adventure."
"You're leaving." He wasn't sure whether he should have added another word on the end, made it more specific. You're leaving town. You're leaving me. "That sounds like a pretty big adventure to me."
"Rex," Alannah said, and her voice was heavy with a strange combination of disbelief and weighty emotion. "We weren't supposed to be serious."
"I'm living in your house, Alannah," he protested. "I've taken you half a dozen different ways in the last week. I sleep in your fucking bed. I wake up with you wrapped around me like a vine. I can't get the smell of your hair out of my head. And you didn't think we were serious?"
"I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for you!"
Rex was suddenly right in front of her, pushing into her space. She refused to back away until they were almost nose-to-nose, and if he hadn't been so pissed, he might have been gratified that her nipples were hard against his chest. "You asked for this very fucking specifically, Alannah. Begged, if I remember correctly, or did you forget how sweetly you—"
She kissed him. It wasn't gentle, no pretty delicacy or slow tasting, just anger and heat and want. Her teeth scored his lip, and when she opened her mouth, he thrust his tongue deep like he was trying to carve his name inside her. It was the roughness of the first time he had introduced her to his belt, the savagery that came out when she arched under his body, but entire orders of magnitude larger. This was visceral. This was claiming.
He pinned her against the wall. "You don't want safe, sassy girl? Good. You've got me feeling real fuckin' dangerous now."
A snarl curled up her mouth, and it was like nothing he'd ever seen from her before. Wild and savage and more primitive than she'd ever been, and it called to the same in him like a siren song. "Do your worst."
He shoved her legs apart with none of the gentleness he'd previously brought to even his roughest touches. "You say that, baby, but you're sure as hell not acting like you want anything other than what I've been giving you. Spreading your thighs like you're desperate for me to wreck you. Want something dangerous?" He ground himself against her core, and she choked out a cry. "This little cunt doesn't care if it's danger you crave. She just wants to get worked over and fucked out until you think of me every time you walk."
She recaptured his mouth, her hands making fists in his hair until it hurt. He hardly recognised her in this state, finally unafraid to demand what she wanted from him, unapologetic of her needs. At the same time, she was as familiar to him as his own reflection, her savagery a perfect mirror to his own.
"Big talk," Al growled against his lips, practically spitting the words out. As she must have known it would, the challenge set him off.
He pinned her hands to the wall, revelling in the pain as it yanked his hair from her grasp, and shoved a thigh between her legs. "Remember the first time we did this, sassy girl?"
"Was it so memorable for you?" she asked archly. The heat that suffused her cheeks and the grind of her hips gave the lie to her pretended disinterest.
Rex's vision blurred as her continued defiance sent blood rushing to his cock. "Do you need a reminder?" He released her hands to shove her skirt up around her hips, and she tore her own shirt over her head, then his, before he could pin her wrists again. "Show me how much you've tried to forget."
Watching Al work herself on his thigh, her self-possessed sexuality a million miles from the hesitancy she'd shown the first time, had Rex reaching for a condom. "Good girl," he grunted. "My good fucking girl."
"Prove it," she said, the heat of her voice in his ear almost a sob. He wondered for a minute if she meant he should prove she could be good while she was being bad, or maybe if she meant he should prove that she was his. Then instinct overtook, and his hands shook as he sheathed himself, and then he was lifting her and using his hips to pin her thighs apart. Not that he needed it when she was locking her ankles behind him, pulling him as close as he could get, like she was trying to force him deep before he was even in her.
He shoved inside, hard and blunt and smoothed by her wetness. "So fucking tight for me. Not acting like you want anything but this right now, are you?" One hand came up to wrap around the column of her throat, and her back arched when he tightened his grip, her feet digging into his ass to ride him harder. He bowed over her body to whisper in her ear, "Dangerous enough yet? Want me to show you what it'll feel like to breathe without me?"
She bit his shoulder, hard, and he switched up the tempo, drawing his inch
es out slowly just to thrust into her harder, giving her hot, tight grinds of his pelvis when his hips met hers. "Want to make our fuck into something savage, sassy girl? Be my guest. But you'll never make it less than what it is. You can't stop me from lo—"
She squeezed around his length, kissed him hard. His hand was still wrapped around her neck, but he was the one who was choking on that word, and he swallowed the rest of it into her mouth on the tight, unearthly scream that moved from her lungs to his until she was filling him, surrounding him, owning him. Owning him. Owning him as he came.
Rex returned to himself some time later, found himself curled over her body, whispering nonsense words she wouldn't otherwise let him say out loud, stroking the mass of her hair, the length of her spine. He thought his cheeks might be wet and couldn't say for sure that it was just sweat.
"Alannah," he breathed, and her arms tightened around him.
"Don't."
"We have to—"
"We don't." She lifted her head away from his chest, and then she was untangling their limbs, and he couldn't let her or she'd be out of his grasp, and he might never get her back. "This doesn't change anything, Rex."
"It changes everything. You changed everything."
"Not for me," she said, and the words were like a blow to his chest. He stumbled back, saw her try to stand on shaky limbs, reached out automatically to steady her. And he wondered if it was possible to die from the pain in his chest when she flinched away.
"Alannah—"
"Don't," she said. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
And for the first time, she walked away before he could hold her.
Chapter 12
So much poetry had been written about heartbreak, Al thought, and yet nothing she'd ever read had conveyed the full depth of the feeling that someone had scooped out her insides with a melon baller and replaced them with baking beads. She was reminded of the dangerous spiky bits on the end of medieval maces, and from there was reminded of her adolescent obsession with brave knights championing their damsels. Not once had she read about a damsel who drove her knight away, torn between two pieces of her heart. But then again, the story damsels rarely went off on their own to have independent, worldly adventures in far-off countries. They were usually quiet girls sitting in their ivory tower or on the edge of a ballroom—sensible girls—until they caught the attention of some duke or other and were swept up in an unsuitable romance. And Al was deviating from that template entirely—choosing, instead, to be brave enough to save herself from eternal isolation and sensibility.
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