Reasons to Leave (Reasons #1)

by Lisa J. Hobman

  He could see the truth like a beacon of light in her eyes. But it changed nothing. The sad, painful realisation had hit. His jaw ached from clenching. “The stupid thing is, Stevie… You may not be his, but you’re not mine either. We’re…temporary…a fling. It hurts too much, and I have enough to deal with right now.”

  “Look, you’ve just been through a very emotional talk with Dillon. Just come back and talk. Or just sit and don’t talk. Either way…please, just come back.”

  Jason glanced back toward her house where Miles still stood, anger rolling off him in almost tangible waves. “He loves you so much. Why don’t you just give him a chance? He’s fighting for you. And he’s here in London permanently. I’m not.”

  “I don’t care, Jason. I don’t love him. I never really did and he knows that. He’s met someone and he’s moving on but he still cares about me and doesn’t want to see me hurt. But I want to be here for you. Even if this is temporary.” Well, she had confirmed it again.

  Temporary.

  She hadn’t contradicted him like he had hoped. But he had no fight left in him anymore. The long talk with Dillon had taken every ounce of emotional and physical strength he had left and had flushed it down the nearest drain. He was spent. He began to walk back with her.

  As they got closer to the house, Miles shook his head, turned, and began to walk away. He stopped and turned back to face them. “The thing is, mate, I’ll be the one here when you’ve gone. And I know you’ll be leaving. It’s what you do apparently. And I’ll be the one who gets to pick up the pieces. I did it before and I can do it again. Just remember that.” He turned and left.

  Back in the house, Jason could see that she was still shaking. He slumped onto the sofa and rested his head in his hands.

  She sat beside him but didn’t touch him. “How bad was it? With Dillon I mean?”

  “Like I said earlier after the phone call, open heart surgery without the anaesthetic would probably just about sum it up.”

  “Oh dear. Did he believe you?”

  “Eventually. Not at first, but the more I talked, the more he understood. Be honest with me…completely honest…do you still love your ex-husband? Because he clearly loves you fiercely, and I don’t want to be the guy to break that apart. If you love him I’ll walk—”

  “Stop. I told you about me and Miles. I don’t love him. And I don’t want to talk about him. I want to hear how you are. I want to make the most of being with you.”

  “But if you have nothing…no one here. Why can’t you come with me? Why can’t we try to make us work? I don’t understand. It’s not like we’re continents apart. It’s a few hundred miles. It’s nothing. Not if we love each other.”

  She sighed heavily. “Jason, we’ve been through all of this. I don’t want a long distance thing. They simply don’t work. And it’s over five hundred miles. It’s not nothing. Plus my mum n—erm…is here too and I love my job. I love being here. London is an amazing place. You could love it too if you gave it a chance. You could sell up and move back here now that…now that Mick’s gone.”

  “And do what? My business is in Scotland. My home is there. I belong there. I don’t belong here. I never really did.”

  “But you said you belong with me. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “Of course it does. But just being here…it’s…I can’t…”

  Her face lit up suddenly. “Let’s go out. Let me show you how things have changed here. All the things you ran from have gone now. Don’t you see that? Let me try…please?”

  He shook his head. “It won’t change my mind, Stevie. This place isn’t home for me. But I’m happy to spend time with you. Every second with you is precious. I sincerely hope you know that.”

  She smiled. “So you’ll let me show you my London?”

  “On one condition.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  “That I take you on the bike.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The following day, Stevie sat on her sofa nervously picking at her nails. Jason was due to arrive any second. He had requested that she wear old jeans with leggings underneath, a thick jumper with a T-shirt under that, and a thick jacket too. She felt trussed up like a turkey on Christmas day. She had tried her best to get out of being Jason’s pillion passenger. Her favourite and best excuse was her lack of helmet. He had laughed heartily and told her it was no issue after all.

  Dammit!

  He hadn’t said much about the talk he’d had with Dillon. She got the impression he would talk when he was ready, and so she hadn’t pushed him. She knew that the situation had pained him and then witnessing the débâcle with Miles had just about finished him off. Thankfully, she had been able to convince him that the whole scenario was Miles’ back to front way of looking out for her. Not that any of it mattered. At some point, he was determined to go back up north.

  The roar of a motorbike engine rumbled outside, and her heart almost leapt out of her chest. Oh no…oh no…why did I agree to this? The anticipated knock on the door came loud and clear, and she nervously made her way to answer it.

  Jason stood beaming at her in his black leathers, looking incredibly hot—in all senses of the word. His hair was tied back in a messy ponytail at the back of his head and sweat beaded above his brow. She wanted to lick it off and peel him out of his clothing. Her nipples stood to attention, but luckily it wasn’t obvious, thanks to the number of layers making her feel like the Michelin Man. Good grief, Stevie, get a grip! She forgot how to speak for a moment.

  He grinned at her knowingly, and her legs almost gave way beneath her. Probably nerves…nothing to do with that smile…or lust…or the fact that under those leathers he’s toned…tight…tempting…oh shit.

  He gestured to the bike. “You ready to go?”

  “Erm…I can’t do this, and besides I told you yesterday I don’t have a helmet so—”

  “Ta-daaaa!” Jason held out a brand new helmet complete with teddy bear ears.

  She stared open mouthed, but this time it was at the ridiculous item he was presenting to her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not wearing that!”

  “Oh, come on. I thought it was really cute. Try it on…please?” He pouted and fluttered his eyelids, and of course, she melted like an ice-lolly in the sunshine. Seeing him looking so excited made her adore him even more. She surmised that she would have ridden a ravenous tiger down the street if it got this reaction from him. His chocolate eyes sparkled as he stood there waiting for her.

  She rolled her eyes and turned to lock the door behind her, chuntering under her breath about being treated like a five-year-old. She reluctantly grabbed the helmet from his grasp and pulled it down over her ears. She felt like her head was in a vice and glanced up to Jason, who stood there with a look of pure pride on his face.

  “Awww, my Stevie, the bike virgin. You look so cute. But like I said before, add a set of leathers and…” His words trailed off, and she could pretty much read his smutty mind, thanks to the fact that he bit his bottom lip and then licked it as he raked his eyes over her denim clad body.

  “I feel like I’ve been bloody mummified. All these bloody layers.”

  “Hmmm, think of the fun we’ll have peeling them off later.”

  Ignoring his mischievousness, she continued. “And I’m scared to death, Jason.”

  He stepped toward her and rested his forehead on her helmet. “You’re perfectly safe with me, but only because you’re not wearing leathers.” His slow smile made her squeeze her legs together. He took her hand and led her to the huge hunk of metal he called a bike and climbed on.

  He held his hand out to her. “Climb aboard, gorgeous, and I’ll give you the ride of your life.” He grinned at her as she took his hand and swung her leg over to straddle the bike. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Get comfy, sweetheart, and hold on tight.” His accent sounded more Scottish than usual and her heart and stomach did simultaneous somersaults. He pulled his helm
et over his head and strapped it in place. She slipped her hands around his waist and held on for dear life. “Erm…Stevie…I know I said hold on tight, but breathing is quite imperative to riding safely. Can you let up a little?”

  She loosened her vice-like grip. “Whoops…sorry about that…nerves.”

  He patted her hand where it lay across his stomach. “Relax. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and hit the accelerator. Stevie let out a high-pitched squeal, and tucked her head into Jason’s back, clenching her eyes shut. She could feel Jason’s chest vibrating. The rotten shit’s laughing at me!

  Eventually, she began to relax and the whole thing was quite exhilarating. She dared to lift her head up and realised that Jason had taken quite the scenic route to get into the part of London she had mentioned to him the night before. Around thirty minutes later, they pulled up in a small car park off the main road of the leafy suburb she loved so much. She climbed from the bike and pulled off her helmet shaking her long, auburn hair out and running her hands through it.

  “Oh. My. Word. That was bloody fantastic! I was terrified at first, but wowee, when I relaxed…words fail me. Bloody helmet though…don’t know why I even bothered doing anything with my hair today.”

  Jason removed his own helmet, and whilst still straddling the bike, he pulled her toward him. “Ah, but you have the sexiest head of helmet hair I think I’ve ever seen.” He leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

  As always, the spike of desire heated her right down to the junction of her thighs as she became a jellified mess in his arms.

  “You really enjoyed it then?”

  Her smile was wide. “It was such a thrill! It felt amazing. I never expected to feel that way.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I’d say I told you so, but I’m not that immature.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  He chuckled. “Clearly the same can’t be said for you.”

  ****

  Kissing Stevie had become Jason’s favourite pastime since arriving back in his version of hell again. The name he had applied to the city of London since leaving had stuck in his mind, but now that he was here, it wasn’t quite as hellish as he remembered. Perhaps that had something to do with him reconnecting with Dillon…or putting the horrific memories to rest. Or perhaps it was just the fact that Stevie was here. All that said, he still could never live here again. He would never hack it in the big sprawling metropolis now. He was used to breathing the clean Highland air and being surrounded by the vast open spaces back home.

  He followed her along the main street that she was so keen to show him. He knew deep down that this would change nothing, that he would undoubtedly be returning to Scotland after the funeral and house clearance. But he went along with things and tried his best not to let sadness take over their day together.

  After a short walk down a bustling main street, they arrived outside an old bookshop. Jason glanced up at the sign. The Book Depository. Cool name. Wouldn’t it be funny if the owner was called Lee Harvey Oswald?

  She turned to him. She had a gleam in her eyes that melted Jason’s heart. “Oh I just love this place. They have books dating back to before the First World War…probably even older than that actually. Come on in.” She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The little old bell above the door jingled as they stepped in and was greeted by the fusty smell of old books.

  “Stevie, darling! Bloody lovely to see you! I thought you’d moved away. It’s been too bloody long!” A dashingly dressed man greeted Stevie with air kisses. His tweed jacket with elbow patches and his bow tie were perfectly befitting of the English Gent he appeared to be.

  “Charles! It’s good to see you too. This is my good friend, Jason Reynolds. Jason this is Charles Oswald, the owner of this place.”

  Jason couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Oswald? Cool. Nice place you got here.”

  Charles blushed and patted his hair. “Why thank you, young man. Very nice of you to say so. That’s not a local accent is it? Where are you from?”

  “Ah, well, I am originally from London, but I moved away quite a long time ago. I live in the Highlands now, so I guess I’ve picked up a little of the accent.”

  “The Highlands, you say? Bloody hell. I’m thinking there must be something pretty bloody spectacular up there.”

  Bloody hell this bloke says bloody a lot! Jason bit his lip to stop from sniggering.

  “Why do you say that, Charles?”

  “Oh, a good friend and former employee of mine, Jim… You remember Jim, Stevie? The scruffy haired one… Oh, no offence, Mr. Reynolds.”

  Jason smirked. “Oh, none taken.”

  “Yes, well, Jim was originally from Scotland, but he studied at Oxford and stayed here with his wife. Got divorced…terrible mess…and moved up to a little place called Shieldaig a few years ago. He loves it there. Fresh air…open spaces. He runs a little campsite and shop now. Sounds like a bloody idyllic life to me. His girlfriend, who was from London too, moved to be with him not so long ago. I think I’d jump at the bloody chance too if it wasn’t for the business. I’ve visited and it really is stunning. Very tranquil and so picturesque.” He made a dramatic flourish with his hands.

  Jason looked over at Stevie and raised his eyebrows as if to say I told you so. “Sounds to me like your friend has good taste, Charles.” He spoke without taking his eyes away from Stevie’s.

  Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Are we okay to have a browse, Charles? Jason is more of a rugged outdoorsy type, but I’m determined to get him into paperbacks too.” Jason knew she was changing the subject deliberately. He feigned hurt at her comments about his reading habits and poked her in the ribs, gaining an elbow in his own in return.

  “Absolutely, darling. Go ahead. Give me a shout if you need anything.” The telephone began to ring, and Charles excused himself and went to answer it.

  They spent a long while thumbing through the books, and Jason bought a couple to prove a point to her that he wasn’t a complete philistine. He had stood and watched her perusing for a while, loving how her mouth moved as she read to herself. That beautiful mouth. She glanced up and caught him watching her, but he just smiled and watched as the pink hue rose from her neck to her cheeks. She’s just so bloody cute. Whoops. Spent a bit too long in the presence of this shop’s owner!

  After looking around the Aladdin’s cave of a bookshop, Stevie insisted they go to a small coffee shop just along the road, claiming it was the best coffee she had ever tasted. They sat at a table in the window where they could look out over the busy street and do a little bit of people watching. Shoppers sauntered by carrying colourful bags, wearing summer clothes and wide smiles. It seemed like quite a chilled out location, nothing like the London he remembered. Central London was no doubt exactly as he remembered it. Frantic people in business suits without a single conversation in them, keeping their heads down as they made their way along the hectic streets. Cars and taxi’s whizzing by, horns blearing, people shouting, fumes from myriad different vehicles, and people suffering road rage. A positively stress-inducing atmosphere. No, here was different. Calm. Serene in a way.

  But it wasn’t home.

  He devoured a huge slab of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting as she sipped her latte from a tall glass. Closing his eyes, he savoured the sweet, melt-in-the-mouth texture. When he opened them, he handed a fork full to her.

  She closed her mouth around the fork. “Hmmm.” The noise she made had him twitching in his leathers. He looked up at her to find her watching him again. “You see…this London is not at all like the London you envisaged is it?” She cocked her head to one side.

  “No, quite right. The shops are far more quirky around here, and the bookshop was a real gem. I’ve enjoyed today…thank you.”

  “But?”

  Jason frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She pursed her lips for a moment. “It sounded like you wer
e going to say but and follow it with something negative.”

  “No, not at all. It’s just.” He placed his fork down. “I don’t know…I miss home…my home up north.”

  Her eyes took on a tinge of sadness. “But you once looked on London as your home.”

  “Not really…if I’m honest. When I talked about being lost it applied to me being here too. I was misplaced here. I never felt at home. Not in the true sense of the word.”

  “You travelled a lot when you left though, so how do you know what home really is?”

  He thought for a moment. “That’s just it. I think I discovered what home is by first finding out what it isn’t.”

  She shook her head, and her forehead creased at his cryptic response. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that… Well, everyone usually thinks of home as where they grew up, but that wasn’t the case for me. I’m sure you can understand why. And then I thought that being in the army would mean I found my home abroad maybe…or maybe being on the move all the time would feel right. Maybe I didn’t need a base as such. But when it came down to it, I missed being in one place. So the security job gave me that for a while. Warm weather, sunshine, etc…but even then I didn’t feel at home. When I settled in Scotland things just clicked…for the most part.” He shrugged.

  She leaned forward. “Only for the most part?”

  Jason dropped his gaze to where his fingertips played in a pool of sugar granules on the table. “Yeah, it seems I lost something else when I left all those years ago…along with my sense of home. I…I left my heart behind too.”