by Sabre, Mason
He smiled in memory of her nervousness, giving a light chuckle as he shook his head. He wasn’t used to being around women as sweet as her. They always had a sexual reaction, but Rosie’s was innocent and vulnerable …and damn breathtaking, if he admitted it. Turning on the tap, he let the water run cold before cupping it and splashing it against his face—more ways to wash away the man he once was. His pushed up sleeves revealed the evidence of last night’s episodes. Ugly red gashes across his flesh. They were William’s not Josh’s. More scars to go with all the others.
From the bathroom door, he could see Rosie with ease. She was sipping at her coffee, watching out of the window. She was beautiful in that natural way. The kind of girl who didn’t know that she was attractive, naïve in a way. A smile crept to his mouth, twitching the corners of his lips as he imagined her sitting there, alone with a book. The kind of woman who had contentment with just herself. He took in a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, pushing away thoughts of William—weak and pathetic William. He had no place here. No place in this relationship … not that it was. This was just a meeting about work, but …
He shook his head, not going there. William didn’t get what he wanted, but Josh? Josh could have the world, and he would.
She turned his way before he even got close, her shoulders relaxing at the sight of him, a sweet smile spreading across her face and lighting her up—making her even more beautiful. Her eyes glinted as if with unshed tears and it clenched his heart. He wanted to know what thoughts she might have that would cause her pain.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was in such a rush before coming here …”
“It’s okay,” she said, with a wave of her hand. She cleared her throat, turned properly in her seat, shoulders back. “Got you a coffee while I waited.”
He smiled down at the mug before him. “Thanks,” he said, regarding her sudden erect posture. He wondered over the mental walls she’d just erected right in front of him. He noticed it a lot in people—he noticed many things in people. The silent watcher. “What would you like to know about the job?” she asked, business like.
Shit.
He clamoured to think. He hadn’t come with any questions and now his mind was hurling itself around, grasping at the edges. Idiot.
“I ...” He was losing his façade. William trying to peak in at the edges. Josh knew things. Josh had control. He clenched his fists on his lap under the table. She doesn’t know you’re barely holding it together. “I guess if you can tell me a little of what the position entails.”
“Sure,” she nodded and smiled. He loved the way she said, ‘sure’ the American twang in her words, the way she put such attention on the R when she said it. “Well, we’re open from five in the evening until ten.”
“Not in the day time?”
“People have jobs, you know. It’s hard to get volunteers at that time. Plus, the main mental health services are open in the daytime. People who need them, can get access. It’s out of hours that is the problem.”
Josh nodded. He got it. The problem was, those services were shit. He had tried them so many times. So many fucking nights when he was on the edge. Take a warm bath, one of them had told him a couple of months back. Yeah sure, take a warm bath with the razors by the edge of the tub, or with water he could drown himself in. Where he could sit and ruminate until he drove himself crazy. “What about weekends?”
“Ah yes. Weekends, we open Friday at three. We find people leave work early Fridays, you know, more time alone? Then we are open until ten Monday morning.”
“People will volunteer then … in the day I mean?”
“Yes. We get a lot of students. Between calls, you can do whatever you want. We have one man who brings in those little models that you paint. You know the ones? War models?”
Josh did; he had a couple himself. They had helped him for a while, taken his focus away. That was until she had broken one of them. His mother had said it was by accident, but he knew differently.
“So I could bring books in and read between calls and no one would mind?”
“Absolutely.” She scratched her neck as she returned her gaze to his again. It seemed to roam to his chest a lot, and every time he wanted to look what might be wrong there. “It’s a volunteer job. You’re there on your own time. So the time between is yours.” Again her eyes lowered and quickly raised back. With any other woman he would’ve known why she looked, but Rosie, she was nothing like other women. “Just when you answer the phone, put whatever you’re doing entirely down and give the caller your full attention. But this comes with training.”
He had to smile hearing her conviction. It’s what drew him to her. Her passion for people like him—like William. He listened as she told him the ins and outs. So much to take in and yet all of it kind of familiar to him in a way. A few weeks training. Sitting in and listening. Police checks they had to do, background checks. There were no records of him within the Mental Health Services. Not Josh. Not this Josh anyway.
“What do you think?” she asked when she was done. Both of their mugs now stood empty.
“I think it sounds perfect.” It was his turn to let his gaze drop to her chest. Was it cold, or was she reacting to him? Her nipples sensually flaunted themselves through the thin fabric of her blouse, creating a surge of heat in him.
“We have to run the checks first, but do you want me to sign you up?”
Josh nodded without hesitation. This was it. Where he was meant to be, except, as she handed him the formal application to start, his hand hovered over it. Once he signed, this meeting would be over. She would go back home, to her partner, boyfriend … someone special, and he would go home, to William and the gloominess of his miserable life. He signed anyway, a disjointed signature that was all wrong, different name, but it felt just right. Perfect. Josh Carter.
Both of them sat quiet for a moment after she folded the criminal record check form over and put it in her bag. Then came them both glancing out of the window, each thinking and saying nothing.
“Well I…”
“Do you …”
The both spoke at the same time. “You first,” she said.
“I was just going to ask if you fancied a walk? Or maybe you have to get back somewhere?”
She glanced at her watch. Here it comes. The no. Because maybe as much as he forced it away, she could see William and not Josh.
“I’d love to,” she said.
Josh waited, pausing for breath, for the but. Instead, she pushed her mug to the centre of the table, balled up her serviette and dumped it in the mug and then slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to go. With him. With Josh. Not William.
There was a park next to the Pepper Mill, it was why he had chosen this place. A place he had come many days just to feel some kind of normal. Take his book and sit on a bench. Escape the world, his world.
He ran here too. Or he used to, another one of those things William’s mother stole. Always calling with her needy, whiney voice the moment he got up to speed. Maybe now she was gone, he could run again. The place went around in a large circle. A path that was overlooked with trees from the edge, branches hanging down, creating a natural shade. It led to the twist in the small lane. At the end of that was a sign, the story of the family who had once lived here. How the house had burnt down, and the family had died. William had always thought that it was a good way to go. All of them. No one was left alone and feeling the regret of their life. No more pain.
They started past the picnic area. People sat, eating, a couple had a small barbecue lit, its tantalising smoky scent wafted their way. “I have never been here before,” Rosie said. “It’s so beautiful.”
“There are a lot of places like this.”
Rosie took it all in, walking beside him, her eyes seeming to rove over every single detail. Already he knew he loved that about her. “I need to explore more.”
They walked quietly together for a little while. So close that the
back of his hand brushed hers. He said nothing about it and she didn’t pull away, but each time they touched, it was like little shots of electricity entering his skin.
She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, turning her head to look at him as she did. He met her eyes, and she smiled, her cheeks tinging a little red. It made him smile more. His heart swelling at just being with her.
“How long have you been in England?” he asked with ease.
She shot him a glance and he instantly regretted his question.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’ve been here about six months. I erm … have you lived here all your life?”
“Pretty much.” There was no pretty much about it, he had. He had found these places as a means to escape. Places his mother wouldn’t come to and find him. He came here sometimes when he was small to just hide away. No one would see him. None of the people he went to school with ever came here. They stayed at the park closer to him. But he couldn’t go there. They’d see the bruises down his arms, or the way his lip was swollen one morning. He’d never let them see that. “We moved here after my father passed away,” he said.
“Oh … I’m sorry to hear that.”
So was he. He ground his jaw down not knowing why he had said that. His father had been dead for years. He didn’t know him. Didn’t care. But this was Josh, wasn’t it? Josh’s father could be dead, and he could be heartbroken by it. A man who’d had a proper role model in his life.
“It’s okay. It was long ago. Your parents are still in the states?”
“Yes. It’s just me here,” she said it in a sigh that was almost dreamy, her thoughts running away with her answer and whatever the truth was.
“Must have been strange coming? Alone?” He added the last word, daring to check if she came over with a boyfriend in tow. That was usually the case wasn’t it?
“It was a little weird, at first, but good.”
“I can imagine. Life changes are always brutal aren’t they? Like even if it is for the best, that little thing inside that just craves normality starts whispering that everything is wrong.”
She gasped and stopped. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. I … I thought I was going crazy or something, you know? I’d worked hard to get here. To maybe actually live life and then my brain was just like, uh no Rosie, go home.”
He chuckled and nodded knowingly. “I just came back from a trip away, actually. Couple of days ago really. Just before I saw you at the hospital?”
“Really? Where had you been?”
“Just away. You know, kind of recharging my batteries. But I realised then, when everything was feeling odd and out of place, that going back to my old self wouldn’t work either. It’s partly the reason I want to volunteer.”
“Life’s too short?”
“Yep, but it’s the longest thing we ever do.”
“That’s very true. I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“Not many do,” he said.
They walked and commented on the path around them. Rosie took everything in. It was magical to see someone seeing this for the first time. Like she had never seen trees and flowers before. Josh loved the way the tall grass smelt first thing in the morning, when the day hadn’t yet started and polluted the world. He loved the sweetness of it. The way the birds chirped and there was no other sound.
At the midway part of the trail, where it turned to go back on itself, there was a child’s play park. It was never really busy—more of a destination park. It was a different kind of mother who came here. The kind who wore summer flowing dresses with their hair and make-up neatly done. The kinds of women whose husbands worked long hours in the office while the mothers met for mother and baby groups at the local church and swapped child rearing tips. The kind of woman his mother had never been. Rosie would be this kind of mother. Only maybe he’d not work long hours and she’d not swap baby rearing tips with other women.
Rosie stopped and came off the path, walking across to the railings that separated the park from the greenery. The ground was covered in soft rubber to catch any children who fell, saving them from grazed knees and hands. Her eyes were on one woman; she was pushing a small child in a swing with bars around it, holding the toddler securely in place as he squealed each time he got close and his mother cheered joyfully with each push.
“Do you have any children?” Josh asked her as he stood beside her.
“No,” she answered quickly, making Josh curious as to why. “I have a niece, though. She’s five. When I was back home, I would take her out for a day sometimes. My sister worked a lot.” Her gaze flitted with shadows that never wanted to be told before she turned a pretty smile at him. You?”
Josh looked out at the mother and child. “No. My mum used to bring me here, though. When I was little and it was her day off work. She’d come here with some sandwiches and crisps.”
“Crisps?”
“You know, chips?”
“Oh yes.”
“She would read and I would play. I think I drove her mad sometimes.” He didn’t think. He knew. William anyway. Not Josh. Josh’s mother would have brought him to these places with lovingly made jam sandwiches and a flask of hot chocolate that they would sit and share together. William’s mother, he had to make his own sandwiches when she wasn’t looking. Usually when she was asleep. She never rose before noon and even then the only thing she said to him was “where’s my cigarettes?” The closest he got to sitting and drinking a hot chocolate with her was when he made her black coffee. The days she was too tired, too beaten to bother. He would make it for her, sit opposite her and sip his hot chocolate he dared to make. Those days she wouldn’t shout at him for taking what was hers in the kitchen. She wouldn’t shout at all because it hurt her hung over head.
“Sounds wonderful. You and your mother are close?”
“Yes.” He came away from the railing. Came away from that poisonous memory.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” For whatever reason it was, he couldn’t fathom it just then, but he dared to hold out his hand to her. Brave, confident. This was Josh. “Do you like ice cream?”
Chapter Twelve
Rosie
Rosie’s heart skipped five beats as she regarded his extended hand. Before she could wonder too long if he meant what she thought, she reached out with her own and put it in his. A few seconds of weird feeling passed between them and she felt his hesitancy. “Sorry,” she whispered, pulling her hand out as they walked. God what a stupid moron she was. Of course he wasn’t wanting to hold her hand and walk the park, girlfriend and boyfriend style. Way to jump the gun. Was probably English custom to hold your hand out and direct a person along, or gesture come on, follow me, let’s go. Not let’s hold hands and walk like lovers.
And oh God, there was that remote possibility that maybe he did want to hold her hand and all her stupid overthinking showed through and made him think she didn’t want to. Dammit.
“So beautiful here,” she sighed, wanting to let him know she wasn’t upset or bothered with any of it, and a do over was fine with her. “Did you walk here?” she suddenly wondered.
He laughed. “I do like walking but no. I rode my bike.”
“Oh,” she said, smiling. “You like riding bikes? I have that on my list of things to buy still.”
“A motorcycle,” he said, casting that sexy smile her way.
Rosie gasped with a huge smile. “You have a motorcycle?”
His cute smile grew, making everything jiggle and wiggle in her stomach. “You like them?”
“Oh, I love them.” Rosie fought the need to squeal and jump up and down.
“I could take you for a ride.”
“Oh my God you should.” She couldn’t keep from sounding like he’d offered her a ride to the moon.
He gave a light shrug. “It’s a great day for it.”
“It is,” she agreed, giddy that
he might mean that day.
“And … maybe I even brought an extra helmet.” He shot her a glance. “In hopes you’d let me show you the countryside?”
Oh joy and rapture. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, thrilled.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding guilty, running a hand through his hair, nervously.
“No, I mean I would love that.” The squeak she fought won the battle and she even bounced. But it was squeak and bounce worthy. Him bringing a helmet? That meant he’d planned! That meant he’d thought about them doing stuff! She did happy jigs in circles in her mind before gasping to herself. Oh God, she’d get to sit behind him and touch him.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned wide eyes up to him, realizing she’d gasped. “Uh. Do you think it’s okay if I leave my car here?” she made up quickly.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Or if you wish to drive it home I can follow you and take you back later?”
She thought quickly through her options. Driving home meant she wouldn’t get to touch him till after. And with her luck, something would happen between that second and her drive home and she’d lose the chance. “I’ll just leave the car here.” She’d leave it there forever, she realized. Just to get that ride with him. She’d drive that junk bucket off a cliff maybe. For that ride.
Suddenly they were at his bike and she was breathless with excitement, feeling like it was an impossible dream come true.
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
She turned a smile up at him and shook her head. “Just bloody excited,” she said in her best English accent. She marveled in dreamy awe at his boom of laughter. So strong and yet soft, gentle. Her smile got so big it hurt as she made note to make him laugh more—such a beautiful sound that brought bubbly champagne to her insides.
He unhooked one of the helmets and handed it to her, then put his own on before inspecting she’d done hers properly. “Don’t stare at me!” she whined. “I probably look like one of those bobble heads.”
He smiled, adjusting the chin strap. “You look cute, actually.”
