“I’ll be right out,” I hear a voice shout. It sounds a lot like Easton, but I can’t be sure. I turn to the sound of the voice, waiting to see who will come out from the room in the back.
I hear a banging noise followed by a curse which makes me giggle, and then.
He emerges.
All six foot four of him, the soft wavy brown curls I used to love threading my fingers through when we were cuddling. He wipes his sweat with an old rag full of different, vibrant colours of paint and then he looks in my direction. His eyes look tired, but they’re still the colour of whiskey gold currently burning their way into my soul.
His face is a mixture of shock and elation. “Sasha?” he asks, as if I’m not actually real.
I can’t move. My feet are cemented to the ground. My emotions, however, want to act violently. Tears fill my eyes and start to spill down my cheeks.
Sensing my reaction, Easton picks up a stick leaning against the wall and starts walking with it, an obvious limp when he does.
That’s when I react.
“What happened?” I asked, finally able to find my feet. I sprint the distance, grabbing onto his arm for support. I don’t miss that zap of electricity and neither does Easton.
“Never mind that for now. Come here.” He grabs me, pulling me in close, and it’s then that his smell invades my nostrils. God, I’ve missed this man so much.
“I have so much to tell you.” He snuggles his head into the crook of my neck, kissing me lightly and sending shivers up my spine.
“One of them being that you have your own art gallery.” I chuckle lightly, not wanting this moment with him to end.
He starts to laugh too and then says, “I wouldn’t have taken the plunge if it hadn’t been for you.”
The bell on the door chimes alerting us that someone’s here. We both turn to find a middle-aged man standing by the door. He obviously doesn’t know where to put himself once he sees us involved in our obvious show of affection.
“Is this a bad time?” the man asks, pointing to the door behind him. “I can come back.”
Easton looks down at me. “Go tend to your customer,” I whisper. “We have all the time in the world to talk.”
As hastily as he can with his limp he grabs a nearby chair and offers it to me. “Don’t you dare go anywhere,” he warns, earning a big smile from me.
Yeah, as if I would.
He has some explaining to do. I would be pissed off if it wasn’t for the fact I’m so fucking elated that I’ve found him.
“No, it’s fine,” Easton finally says to the man. “How can I help you?”
The man points to one of the sketches on the wall. It’s of a young lady, her face cocked to one side as she leans her chin on one of her hands, tears stream down her face as she looks off into the distance at something. I can’t see what, but something tells me she’s gazing into the root of her pain.
“I came in yesterday to have a browse round and this one straight away caught my eye. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Is it for sale?”
Easton nods. “It is.”
“Great!” he beams. “I would like to purchase please.”
Easton tries to take the picture down, but it’s awkward with his stick. I rush forward to help him and he thanks me as I manage to take it down. I follow Easton as he takes it to the counter and pulls out lots of wrapping paper. Bit by bit, I help him secure the picture.
“You know, you’d make a great assistant here,” he jokes, but I can’t help my heart fluttering at the idea.
The man pays a whopping six hundred pound for it before thanking Easton. He then asks, “I hear you’re going into painting?”
Remembering Easton walking out from the back room with paint all over his rag and fingers, it makes me wonder.
“Yes, I have done a few. I actually have an art exhibition this Saturday where I’ll be showcasing some of my pieces. You’re welcome to come, if you want? It’s fully booked, but since you’ve just bought one of my sketches, I can put you on the VIP list?”
“This Saturday, you say?”
Easton nods. “Got other plans?”
“No, this Saturday is fine. Can I bring my wife with me?”
“Sure,” he replies, grabbing a pen. “What are the names?”
“Mr and Mrs Walker.”
Easton busies himself jotting down the names before putting his pen down. “I’ll look forward to seeing you both.”
Mr Walker holds out his hand to shake Easton’s. “And us too. You have quite the talent, Mr Lockhart.”
Easton blushes under the compliment. “Thanks,” he responds, shaking his hand back.
Mr Walker then looks to me, then Easton. “Right, I’ll leave you two to it.” He offers me a wink before turning and strolling towards the door. Easton follows behind him and once the door is shut, Easton turns the Open sign to Closed before locking the door.
“Follow me,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the back door.
“What happened to you?” I ask, watching as he continues to hobble into the back room. It’s a smallish room with a desk, which has copious amounts of bills and paperwork strewn across it.
“Wow, you’re messy.” I giggle a little.
“I told you I needed an assistant.” He smiles back. “Here,” he says, pulling out a chair. “Sit. We have a lot to discuss.”
I sit down and watch as Easton grabs his desk chair, pulling it over so he can sit with me. “Where are all your paintings?”
He points to another door in the far corner. “In there, but let’s talk about that later. I had an accident.”
I gasp. “Oh my God, when?”
He shakes his head like the memory of it all is painful. “The day I was supposed to meet you my mum died.”
I throw both my hands over my mouth, tears immediately welling in my eyes. I loved his mother. “Oh no, Easton. How?”
He takes one of my hands in both of his, bringing it to his lips. My heart aches for him as he drops my hand, but keeps it cradled in his. He looks down at it as if trying to find the right words to say. I can already tell he’s trying to be brave—trying not to break down in front of me.
He then takes a deep breath. “Heart attack. It was sudden and violent, but the killer was she was on her own when it happened. She managed to call an ambulance, but by the time she arrived at hospital she was pronounced dead.”
I close my eyes and with it a tear rolls down my face. “Oh, Easton. I’m so sorry.”
He looks up then, tears in his eyes. He smiles before cradling my face. I turn into his touch nestling my cheek into his fingers more. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, before pulling his hand away.
“When I found out, I was working on the farm for an hour before leaving to come and see you. I had been so happy when I woke up knowing I would get to see you again.” He shakes his head at the memory of it. “I left as quickly as possible and raced on my bike to the hospital. On the way there, someone pulled out in front of me, an inevitable crash happened. I was in a coma for three months. By the time I had come around I had missed my mum’s funeral, missed seeing you. I was a mess. It took months of rehabilitation and lots of operations on my right leg. That took the most of it. My bones shattered in the impact. It took hours for the doctor to take the fragments out before pinning them back. Although my leg will get better over time I will always have a limp, and may even suffer arthritis when I’m older.”
More tears fall down my cheek. “Oh, Easton. How awful. No wonder you never turned up that day. I– I had began to think you didn’t want me anymore … especially when I left a message and you never responded. I even went to your family home and saw a strange couple living there.”
Easton raises his hand to my cheek again. “I could never, ever not want you. You’re the reason to everything.” We smile at each other before he continues. “Once my mother died no other members of our family wanted to move in. We all thought it too pain
ful. We rented the house out for six months until eventually I moved in after I came out of the hospital. I had hoped you would turn up at the door. I did try and find you but had guessed you went into hiding again after everything that happened with Liam.” He lets out a deep breath. “I heard about the attack. It fucking killed me to think you had been through all of that and I wasn’t there.” He looks down at my arms. “How are they now?”
I flinch, pulling away. “They’re ugly.”
I still have nightmares about that day. It will never leave me. Liam and that girl who had never been found have both made a permanent scar in my mind. My mum went crazy towards the police for that. It should have been easy to find her, but so far it’s like she’s disappeared off the face of the earth.
He grabs my arms, pulling them towards him before pushing up my jumper sleeve. I look down seeing the hideous burn marks and look away. I feel when Easton kisses them and I look down surprised.
“We both bear scars now, but each one of them has led us here.” He looks up to me with a heart-stopping smile and right then my ugly scars on display are all but forgotten.
“How’s your mum?” he asks, changing the subject.
I smile. “She’s good. Living with Eric now and talking of marriage. I lived with them too up until about two months ago. I rent a studio flat near to Holyrood Park.” I look down then. “I thought it best to leave my mum and Eric alone. I was just a third wheel.”
“I’m sure they didn’t see it like that.”
I look back up to see his smile. “I guess not. I think—if I’m honest—I selfishly couldn’t handle the happy couple. I hate saying that because it makes me look bad. I’m deliriously happy for my mum. I am. I just …”
“It made you miss us too much?” he asks, hope clear in his voice.
“Every minute of every day,” I admit. As he strokes my arms he starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking how in the beginning it was like the universe kept throwing us together like we were meant to be. And then when we parted it was like the universe was determined to keep it that way. I liked it much better when we were being thrown together.”
“Yeah, hashtag Nike Rider.” I look down, smirking when I see he’s still wearing Nikes, even if they are a different pair this time.
He notices and smirks right back. “I had to find some way to get your attention.”
“Well, it worked … in the form of three young ladies sitting in the café down the street talking about you.”
He quirks his eyebrow. “Oh really? And what did they say?”
“That you may be a pervert.” I start giggling causing him to shake his head.
“There will always be at least one.”
I reach out cupping his cheek in my hand. “Well, you’re my pervert.”
He chuckles. “Thanks.”
“How’s your family?”
He clears his throat. “Well, Grayson’s still out breaking hearts and causing trouble, Hamish is now a Chief Inspector in the police, Gregory is now in Iraq touring for six months—we all weren’t that happy about that. Anthony’s still working at the docks, and Ella just had her firstborn six months ago and is a stay-at-home mum. She still lives in the US with her husband.”
I take a deep breath. “Wow! A lot has happened, hasn’t it?”
He nods. “Yeah. I just wish you were here with me to see it all.”
“I’m here now.”
He smiles, taking my hand again. “Yes, you are.”
“Can I see your paintings now?”
He rises out of his chair, so I quickly follow suit. “Come on then,” he bellows, grabbing his stick and pulling my hand to follow him. We reach the door to his studio and he pushes through. Straight away I notice how different the room is compared to his dark, small office. In here there’s bright white walls with huge windows letting in all the light. I look to the floors and find lots of paintings lined up one by one with sheets protecting them. There is an easel in the middle of the room and on it is an almost finished painting. It’s of a young girl. She is looking at something or someone and she has the biggest smile on her face. Her blonde hair is willowing in the breeze. She is surrounded by flowers, all of them in different shades of bright colours.
Straight away I recognise who the girl is.
“Is that me?”
Easton nods his head, a mixture of happiness and uncertainty at how I would take it. “You’ve made me look beautiful.”
“That’s because you are beautiful.” Suddenly, he grabs for me, pulling me into his arms. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight now that I’ve found you.”
I smile as he looks down towards my lips. “Your biker chick is here.”
“Do you still have the helmet?”
“Of course. I would never get rid of it. Are you not riding anymore?” I look down at his leg. Surely after the accident he doesn’t still ride a bike? I do notice, however, that he’s still wearing his Nikes. I don’t know why I get a kick out of that.
“I didn’t want what some idiot did to me put me off my love of riding. After I got a good payout in compensation I used the money—along with the amount my mum left me in her will—to fund my dream. I wanted to do it for you, but I wanted it for me too. It was your voice in my head that drove me forward. I was depressed because of my mum, you, the accident, but I was determined to make something special come out of a dire situation. I was broken and I didn’t want you to see me that way. Eventually I put myself back together again, bought this studio, and it’s only once I really started selling my sketches that I thought myself a worthy man for you. That’s when I really started searching. I thought social media would help, and I’m so glad that it did.”
I start to tut under my breath. “How you can say you’re not a worthy man, Mr Lockhart? I would want you no matter what—even if there was a big wart on your nose and you didn’t have two pennies to rub together!”
Easton throws his head back in laughter. “A big wart, huh?” I nod my head in defiance. “So, does this mean we can start dating properly now? As in publicly?”
I bite my lip to try and suppress a smile. “I guess so.”
Before I can continue, his lips are on mine. They are warm, wet, inviting, and intoxicating—everything I remember and more. As our tongues dance, so too do the butterflies in my stomach. His hands cradle my head as he moans into my mouth, causing a fire in between my legs … a fire which I thought had died the moment Easton and I parted over a year ago.
My head is swimming. I’m completely lost in this man, and I never want this feeling to end. But then he suddenly breaks our contact. “I love you,” he says, still breathing heavily against my mouth.
“I love you too, Easton. More than words can ever say.”
He smiles before leaning down to press his lips against mine. “To our kiss,” he says, smiling from ear to ear.
I can’t help the euphoria that runs through me when I reply, “To our kiss.”
Epilogue
Five years later
Easton
“Lachlan, will you stop this right now and come here so I can put your jacket on! My God, you’re a menace!” Sasha shouts, running after our precious boy. I beam proudly at him. He may be a menace, but he’s also a very intelligent wee menace.
“Easton, will you help me!” she screams from the distance. All I can hear as I get up from my comfortable position on the sofa is Lachlan’s giggles.
I enter the hallway finding Lachlan running down the stairs and a frantic Sasha following after, blonde tendrils in her face, breathing hard with a wee coat in her hands.
“Lachlan, careful running down the stairs now,” I say in warning. “Come on, Mum needs to take you to nursery.”
He giggles again, but stops dead. He always does as he’s told when I’m around. For some reason that really winds Sasha up.
“Typical,” she says, puffing out some air to get rid of the strand of hair in her eyes.
I smirk up to her un-amused face. “What can I say? He’s a Daddy’s boy.”
She slams the coat in my chest. “Well, maybe Daddy can take him to nursery then.” She places one hand on her hip and quirks her eyebrow at me. Fuck, does it make me want to take her. If it wasn’t for the cock-blocker in front of us, I would.
After Sasha came into my studio that day I haven’t let go of her since. Soon after she moved into my family, and shortly after that she handed in her notice at her job and started helping me at the shop.
And it couldn’t come soon enough. I had started to need help long before Sasha came on the scene. She does all the accounts as she seems to be a lot better at numbers than me. I have the good jobs, sketching, painting, and selling.
Best job in the world.
With time to spare on her hands, Sasha started up her love of bracelet making and very quickly became popular after selling a lot on eBay. In the end she set up her own website called Memory Bracelets, and it’s been flourishing ever since.
Four years ago, we married, and very soon after that we found out Lachlan was coming. It’s been the best year of my life, and things are only getting better. The only confusion I have is that Sasha is now called Lisa. In public I have to call her that, but in private, she is still Sasha. That was what her name was when we met, and that is what her name will always be in my heart. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind. I guess she feels the same way I do. Well, that’s what I hope anyway.
“I’ll take him,” I say as I start to remove Lachlan’s coat. “He doesn’t frighten me.” I wink at Lachlan, causing a flurry of giggles. He has the most amazing brown eyes and an adorable mop of blond hair, which I’m thrilled about because it is just like his mother’s.
“I’ll see you at the studio then,” she chirps going to move past me towards the kitchen. I stop her in her tracks, though, pulling her towards me.
HEADMASTER Page 30
