by Aria Ford
Now, he’s done something rather worse than put glue on dad’s shoes or hidden mum’s books.
Putting me on the spot with Carson was something Brett would do without thinking. I knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t considered the ramifications of that. Probably, he thought of Carson as a buddy from college and forgot he ever was anything to do with me. That would be typical.
Even though I was angry with my big brother right now, I knew I would forgive him. Just one big, silly grin and I would have my arms around him, laughing and teasing.
But Carson? I wasn’t too sure.
I sighed, feeling a familiar ache in my heart as I thought about it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Carson currently. Anger was a big part of it; both at his betrayal, at what I felt were his lies. If he really didn’t feel strongly he shouldn’t have led me to believe it. But was it only anger?
No, I decided, draining my cocoa, the love was there too. It had never really gone away, which had caused its own problems, since no one I had met since then could quite compare with him.
The trouble with Carson was that he had spoiled me for anyone else. From his good looks to his sexy ways and the peculiar tenderness with which he always treated me, Carson was wonderful. I had plenty of dates since then, but no one had quite affected me as he had. And now he was back in my life.
It’s only for two weeks, Amelia. Don’t be so dramatic.
I stood, feeling suddenly weary, and stretched. I caught sight of myself in the window-pane, the sky already black beyond the windows. Tall and pale, with big blue eyes and curly honey-brown hair, I had never really considered myself a beauty, though Jess always said I’d be stunning if I made more of myself. When we went shopping together, she was always encouraging me to show my figure off more, to dress in a way that highlighted my own brand of good looks. I put my head on one side, contemplating the woman in the window’s reflections.
What would Carson think of me?
I shook my head. Come on, Amelia. Stop being silly. He’s visiting Brett. He probably didn’t even know I was invited. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have accepted Brett’s kind invitation. I was being harsh to myself, and I knew it. Trying to pretend I didn’t care, and that I didn’t care how he felt. I did.
“The stupid, stuck-up, thoughtless…” I sighed, trailing off, and headed to the kitchen to find myself a cup of tea. Who was I fooling?
I still loved Carson Grant. Likely always would. I was trying to harden myself against the possibility that he really did feel indifferent toward me. But did he? He certainly hadn’t always acted as if he was. When we first met, the connection was instant. And it had never died. Not for me. Not, as far as I could see, for him either. Not until he left me.
“Come on, Amelia,” I said aloud. “Go and get ready.”
If I was driving to LA tomorrow, I should pack now and wrap the gifts I’d brought. I wondered, idly, if I should get something for Carson.
Probably not, I thought harshly. Why would he want something from me?
I had given him my heart years ago and it seemed he’d not wanted that either. Now, ten years later, I was starting to discover that he still had it. Which was why, I guessed, I’d never fallen for anyone else the way I had for him.
Maybe this was for the best I decided, as I took clothes out of the cupboard and started to plan what to take along for the trip. If nothing else, there was a lot of unfinished business between us. Perhaps my Christmas gift this year was going to be to unpack it all and truly start afresh.
There’s no point in holding onto past wounds, I reminded myself as I folded my favorite sweater and packed it into my trunk. I will feel so much happier if I can finally lay this ghost to rest. After all, ten years is a long time. It was time to heal and to let myself learn how to love again.
Being an accountant has some advantages, one of which is being neat by habit. It took me about ten minutes to find everything I needed for a week in my wardrobe—casual sweaters in the pile on the left, jeans second from the right on the hanging rack. I leaned back, hands clasped, and let out a ragged sigh as I surveyed my completed case.
I might be neat, but my heart is a mess right now.
Perhaps this holiday was a chance to fix that.
CHAPTER TWO
Carson
When Brett invited me to his house for Christmas, I wasn’t sure what to say. I sat down in the sitting room of my small but stylish Colorado apartment, a coffee at hand, and closed my eyes, trying to think.
I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t just the fact that I might have other commitments. It was the fact that I had to think really hard about this invitation: It had been a year since I last saw my best friend Brett. And besides, we had history. In our case, that history has a name that belongs to his younger sister. Amelia.
Brett’s little sister Amelia that is. She was the first thing that sprang to my mind when he contacted me earlier today. I guess it shouldn’t have been, since Brett was my buddy and that was all ten years ago. Despite all that, the thought of Brett didn’t bring back memories of him, but of his sister. Something about those blue eyes of hers would always be haunting me.
My heart clenched tight just thinking of it and I ran a weary hand over my dark hair. I would like to say I hadn’t thought about her for years, but I’d be lying to myself. From the plane to Iraq to the battlefield and back again, she had been standing on the edge of my thoughts.
I thought back to my memories of her. She was so beautiful. I remember kissing her for the first time, in the street outside her house. She made me want to scream out loud, with her clouds of soft hair and the sweet softness of her mouth on mine, clinging to my lips. I was twenty, she was sixteen and I was the luckiest boy on earth. She gave herself to me and I know I didn’t deserve her to. I never did deserve her.
That was why I left her. That; and the fact that I thought I might as well die. When I left college, I knew I wanted to follow my heart and join the military. Which meant, at that time, that I might not come back. That was back when the troops were going straight to Iraq and many weren’t coming back. Amelia didn’t deserve to her first boyfriend die on her. She deserved better than me.
What will she say if she sees me, now?
I sighed. The mirror on the wall showed me a different face to the one she would have remembered. Ten years older, for a start, but it wasn’t just that. It was the new hardness there. The lines, the angles, the expression in his eyes that was different—sadder, more remote. My face was a little more weather-beaten than it might have been, though it was still lean and strong. My hair was still dark and my body hard with the training.
I’m still good-looking, I guess. But would that be enough?
Even as I thought it, I wanted to kick myself. I shouldn’t care if I looked like the back end of a freight truck. I was not—absolutely not—going to get involved with Amelia Carlyle again. Not for anyone.
“Besides,” I said, “she might not even be there.” Why should she be? She is Brett’s little sister, after all. He’s married, now, with a lovely wife and two small kids. Maybe she’s somewhere else for Christmas. Maybe married too.
That thought made my throat tight and I felt angry about it. The level of the anger surprised me. If I really had moved on, I should have been glad to think she had too, but apparently, I hadn’t.
Come on, Carson! Decide, for pity’s sakes!
I had to send Brett a reply now. I couldn’t spoil his plans by keeping him waiting. I drew in a deep breath and raised my fingers to type. I sent two simple words. Yes. Thanks.
When that was done I leaned back with a big, shaky sigh and looked up at the ceiling. That was surprisingly difficult. Well, I’d done it now. For better or worse, I was going to tie up the loose ends of that part of my past.
I stood and walked through to the kitchen. At that moment, my phone rang. I ran through and grabbed it, tripping over the couch as I did so.
“Carson?”
“Ah…Brett!” I breathed
hard through my nose. Falling over had hurt. My shin hit the edge of the table, and it was throbbing badly.
“Hey! Bro! What’s up? You sound rough.”
“Um…nothing, Brett. Just fine! What’s up?” I said through gritted teeth, hissing out as my shin throbbed under my fingers.
“Well, if you say so,” he said, sounding hesitant to believe me. “I just got your message. That’s great! The twenty-first work okay for you, man?”
“Uh…that’s tomorrow, right?” I asked. My heart did a flip.
“Yes.” Brett paused. “Are you sure that everything’s okay, Carson?” He sounded concerned.
“I’m fine!” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to lose my temper with him. That’s one of the problems with me—I have a short fuse at the moment. My doctor tells me it’s from the trauma. I try not to believe him.
“Whoa, Carson. I’m sorry, man.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Brett. I’m just stressing right now. I’m really sorry.”
“No problem, bro. Just glad you’ll make it.”
“Sure, I will.”
“Good,” he said. “I should go—gotta get the kids from school.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved I would be able to express the agony of my sore shin when he went off. And maybe put some baked beans on it or something. “Looking forward to seeing you!”
“Great! Amelia will be so pleased to see you. Bye!”
“Brett…wait!” I said. But he had already hung up. I leaned back on the sofa.
Maybe he meant to say Reese. But no, Brett wasn’t the kind of guy to get mixed up between his sister and his wife, and he’d said it. Amelia. I closed my eyes.
Amelia is going to be there? Alone? Single?
“Brett,” I said aloud, not sure whether it was the sore shin or something else that made me feel so completely defeated. “What are you doing to me?”
I absolutely did not need to see Amelia, but now it seemed I was going to. On Christmas Day. Was this a Christmas miracle or disaster waiting to happen?
Funnily enough, as I limped through to the kitchen and held a pack of cold peas on my shin-bone, I couldn’t help but feel excited about seeing her again.
I wonder how she’s changed?
I recalled her as a beautiful, lively seventeen-year-old. At twenty-seven, what would she be like? I formed a picture in my head, or tried to, from memory and imagination. She was tall, fair-haired with those soft blue eyes and a smile that could melt hearts at fifty paces. I had loved her at first sight. I still had feelings for her.
Amelia Carlyle. Beautiful, funny and irresistible.
I chuckled. “Carson, be a good boy.”
I couldn’t believe what my imagination was doing to my body. It wasn’t like I’d been celibate in the last ten years, but just the thought of the girl I had loved sent shivers through me, making my dick stiff. I bit my lip, shaking my head.
Grunting, I put my foot on the tiles again. It had been on the kitchen chair, so I could reach the shin more easily, and I limped upstairs. Packing had become second nature during my years in the military, but a visit to an old buddy is different to moving camp. I supposed I had to get presents too.
The next morning, at five am I left my apartment in Boulder, Colorado, and started driving. It would take me twelve hours to get to LA, but at such short notice, driving was much better than flying. I guessed I would arrive by supper-time.
I enjoy driving. With my new secondhand BMW convertible, it’s even more fun. Smooth and relaxing. On the long, winding roads, my brain took wing. My thoughts were of Amelia.
“And I’m coming ho-ome…” I sang along with the radio. When I caught myself doing it, I blinked, surprised.
Hell, Carson! You’re excited, man.
It surprised me. I knew why I was singing and smiling. It was because I was going to see her—Amelia. I had never realized how much I loved her. How much breaking up with her had actually cut me up. But apparently it had—I never sing, and smiling doesn’t come too easily either. I wished Pete were here.
My army buddy, shot in Iraq, I often talk to Pete when I face something that confuses me. He was always wise and laid-back about everything.
“Pete, man? Am I being dumb?” I asked.
I sighed. If Pete were here, he’d be laughing at me. I looked out of the window, feeling my throat tighten with sadness. I blinked at a billboard by the roadside. It read: “Follow your instincts”.
It was an ad for perfume or something; I don’t even know. But it could have been Pete’s reply. It sounded like something he’d say. Don’t worry about it, man. Just trust your instincts. That would have been his advice.
“Okay, Pete,” I said, sighing. “I’ll do my best. Sounds like a plan.”
I put my foot on the gas, wincing as the sore spot in my right leg stretched out, and sped ahead.
After twelve hours of driving, I reached the outskirts of LA. It was dark, the lights blinking from the tall buildings in the distance.
“Okay, Carson. Be cool.”
I pulled over and switched on the GPS and let it guide me to Brett’s house in the suburbs. After half an hour of traffic and remembering why I don’t like large cities, I found it.
I realized, with some surprise, that I was trembling when I stopped at the gate. I drew in long, even breaths through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to steady myself.
Hell, Carson! You’d think you were running unarmed into heavy fire here, not visiting a friend for Christmas. Calm down, for pity’s sakes!
I got my breathing under control, got out of the car and headed through the gate. I rang the bell.
“Hello?” A voice called through the wood. My heart stopped and the door opened.
I was looking straight into the face of Amelia.
CHAPTER THREE
Amelia
I looked into his eyes. My heart stopped.
He was ten years older than the last time I saw him, with his hair touched with the barest threads of white, his eyes were gentler, perhaps, the wrinkle at his mouth deeper. He was wearing a cream-colored t-shirt with a casual jacket and navy jeans, his tall form leaned on the door-frame.
“Hello.”
I tensed as his voice washed through me, making my heart ache. It was Carson. He hadn’t changed a bit and I would have known him anywhere. He even smelled the same. He was still the strong, handsome man with the high cheekbones and deep brown eyes I recalled from my teenage years. He still smelled of musk and cologne. And he still made my heart do peculiar things.
Breathe, Amelia.
I breathed. It didn’t help very much. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine. I saw his pupils widen and then narrow, the way that they had all those years ago when he saw me, right before he kissed me and lifted me up in those strong arms…
“Hello,” I whispered softly.
He smiled. His lips lifted at the corners, in that slow, shy way I recalled from the day I met him. The way that was surprisingly childlike and so, so sexy at once. My heart clenched tight. This was absolutely not how I’d imagined our first meeting. I had thought we would be angry with each other; aloof, hesitant. The last thing I’d expected was for everything to be just as it had been.
“Are you…”
“How long…”
We spoke at the same time, a habit that spanned a decade. I felt my throat close up, and I smiled, my eyes damp. How long had it been? Yet nothing had changed. The years had washed away the wounds he had made on me, and it seemed they had washed away his intention in saying them.
If he wanted me out of his life, it seemed as if he hadn’t stuck to that plan—his eyes, the small smile, they said the opposite. My body was suddenly on fire and my throat closed up with feeling.
“I heard you’d be here,” I said.
“I was…” he began.
“Mel?” Another voice interrupted it.
I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth as Brett’s voice called out. Whatever Carson h
ad been about to say remained silent as Carson turned in the doorway to face my brother. I sighed.
“Yes, bro?” I asked.
“Who is it? Is it…Oh!”
Brett appeared in the hallway beside me, a tall, fair-haired bundle of enthusiasm and grins. He stared a moment then reached out a hand to Carson, shaking his hand as his other arm wrapped his shoulder.
“Carson! Bro!” He grinned up at him. It was as if nothing had changed, I thought, looking at the two of them; as if they were still in college together and we were all young and invincible with the world before us. Brett was laughing, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Then he turned to me. “Sorry, Mel. I’m being rude again. Carson, look! It’s my sister.”
I closed my eyes. If I had been alone with Brett, I probably would have hit him. At least I would have wanted to, but I didn’t. He surely remembered how much Carson meant to me? How could he be so callous? I opened them again, becoming aware of the silence around me.
“Yes. We said that when I opened the door,” I said carefully. “Hi, Carson.”
“Amelia.”
His voice made my throat tight as I held out my hand, taking his. His eyes met mine. He smiled. He looked, I was surprised to note, nervous. The little grin he gave me seemed to ask a question. Seek approval.
Come on, Amelia. Stop being imaginative. It’s probably tiredness. He’s been driving today.
“Kids?” Brett called to the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”
I heard trainers clattering on the tiles behind me and was relieved to feel Cayley’s hand on my leg. At ten years old, just leaving childhood for the uncertain waters of tweenage, she was a gold-locked angel who stole my heart every time I looked into her eyes. She peered up at Carson.
“Who is it, Daddy?”
Brett chuckled. “Who is it? It’s uncle Carson!”
I laughed as Cayley giggled. “Oh! That’s who! Hello, Uncle Carson.”
We all laughed and I let out a deep sigh. Kids have a wonderful way of easing the tension. And Cayley and Josh are especially good at it. I heard Josh run up to join us, all eager.
