“Okay.” Was he going to leave me alone while he went for this last hurrah?
“And I want ya to come with me. If it ain’t too much for ya?”
He let me go the instant the words were free. The shaking in my body overtook everything else, and I couldn’t even draw in the breath I needed to respond. There was no way I could willingly get on a plane and go back to the States. The trip home had been torture. Dad and I spent over a day moving between airports and planes, and every stop I couldn’t focus on anything other than scanning the crowds for all the faces that would haunt me forever. I shook my head and tears came into my eyes.
“No. No. No.” The hysteria in my voice was clear even in my own ears.
“It’s okay, darlin’, ya don’t have to. Even I don’t have to go if ya don’t want me to. I just thought it might be good to get away, and I thought there might be some happy memories there.”
He had a point. It wasn’t like we needed to go anywhere near North Carolina. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to get on a plane at all. Not for that long.
“When?” I didn’t know where I found the word, buried beneath the ball of emotion in my throat.
“Next year. Early. January or February.”
I whimpered. Beau of all people had to know why that was the worst possible time for me to go anywhere near the States.
His brow dipped further, and he ran his hand over my hair. “We can make it a little later if ya like? There’s a gap in the calendar after the middle of August, we can go then if ya want?”
“What about the sale?”
“Mitch and Joe ain’t in any rush to get things done.”
“They’re the buyers?”
“Apparently they’ve been savin’ up for a while. They didn’t wanna approach me because they love the partnership, but they also have some grand ideas that I’ve resisted so far.”
“Like?”
“Just gettin’ rid of a few buildin’s and addin’ some more of their glass monstrosities.”
I chuckled, glad for something to distract me for a while. “The glass building isn’t that bad. The rooms are gorgeous.”
“It just ain’t the way I knew the property. Nature and tradition were what mattered. It ain’t important anyway. Once they own it, they can do what they want, and I won’t have a say.”
His flippant attitude made me think he cared a little more than he was letting on, but he was a big boy. I could question and be a ready sounding board for him, but I couldn’t make his decisions for him.
“Can I think about it?”
“Course. I’ll let ’em know nothin’ will happen until the end of August just to keep them in the loop.”
“You can go over sooner if you need to.”
“I ain’t gonna leave ya alone that time of the year. I don’t think I could for my own sanity, even if you’re fine. I’d thought maybe it could be a distraction, but I was mistaken.”
“It’s going to be a tough few months. We’re so close to so many anniversaries of shitty things.”
He laid back and put his hands behind his head. “We’ll just hafta replace them with happy things instead.”
“How?”
“Like New Year’s. Instead of it bein’ an anniversary of us fightin’ and bein’ apart, let’s make a new memory together at midnight.”
I grinned. “The first of many.”
“Exactly.”
“When do you need to know about the trip to the US?”
“When ya know for sure what ya want to do.”
I agreed to that and tucked away the need to make a decision straight away. In some ways, I would have loved to return to his former corner of the world. It was just a matter of whether I could make it that far.
WITH MY race schedule done for the year after the Gold Coast 600 finished off the enduro events, there wasn’t much for me to do but start ramping up preparations for the following year’s race season. Dad arranged a simulator for Beau’s house, instructing both Beau and me that we were to put in equal time using it. I was certain Dad was grooming Beau to take on the other ProV8 when David Weston retired or moved on. Or more likely, in case I couldn’t actually get in the car the following year.
It told me Dad must have seen something pretty special in Beau’s technique during the races he’d seen in the States, or in the few laps he’d watched Beau do at Queensland Raceway. Perhaps it was all just a thank you gift for helping bring me back to life, but whatever the reason, Beau wasn’t looking the gift horse in the mouth. Whenever he wasn’t at the office or spending time with me, he was pouring over track notes or driving tracks on the simulator.
As the end of October came and went—without much of a Halloween celebration to Beau’s surprise—we were more settled than ever. Our life was almost a snapshot of domestic bliss. The only issue was the private number that kept calling me. I’d taken to ignoring the phone at all times and leaving it on silent more often than not. Everyone who wanted to contact me called Beau, and when he needed to reach me he’d let it ring twice before hanging up and calling back to let me know it was him.
The first weekend in November, the team headed to New Zealand for the race. Part of me had wanted to go, but I’d barely managed to hold it together for the domestic flights to Sandown, and that had only been because I’d had the worries over what would happen that weekend running through my mind as a distraction. Unfortunately, Beau didn’t get a choice of staying at home. He’d taken a role in the team, and he needed to perform that whether I was in the car or not.
So while Beau went off with his obligation, I was left at home alone with Angel. I’d briefly thought about going back to Mum and Dad’s for the few days, but my bedroom had long been overrun by Beth because space was a premium when you had as many kids as Mum and Dad did, and she’d had to share with Nikki for so long. With me gone and Beth shifted into my old room, Georgia could go from Mum and Dad’s room into Nikki’s.
Instead of dwelling on how much I missed Beau or lamenting not going with them, I pulled out a bottle of Beau’s Fireball and an old favourite movie of Angel’s—a romcom from years earlier featuring a guy with an accent so similar to Beau’s it almost hurt to watch. We’d last watched it when Beau had contacted me after my US holiday.
I ordered pizza and then knocked on her bedroom door. I wouldn’t take no for an answer, we were going to have an old-fashioned girls’ night if it killed us.
When she pulled open her door, I grabbed her hand before she could argue and dragged her to the living room where I’d set up the feast of pizza, chocolate, Fireball, and Coke.
“Let’s be us again,” I said, holding up the movie. “Please?”
A smile lit her features, and for the first time in weeks it was genuine and contained every happiness I wanted for her.
During the movie, we found our way into our usual position on the couch. It’d been too long since we’d spent so much time in close quarters and I found I’d missed it. When the movie ended, neither of us seemed willing to move, so we flicked on some random TV channel and curled up together again. The only times we broke apart were to eat, drink, or go to the toilet. Eventually, we fell asleep wrapped up together on the couch.
When I woke the next morning, it was with a raging headache and a churning stomach. Obviously, I’d had more of the Fireball than I’d thought. It wasn’t like it took much to get me drunk, I was such a lightweight.
Angel, however, was nowhere to be found. I wondered whether perhaps she’d gone to bed after I’d fallen asleep. I headed for the bathroom and was on my way back when I heard it.
“Phoebe.”
It echoed down the hallway. Figuring it must have been Angel who wanted me—how many other females were in the house who might call my name after all—I pushed into her bedroom.
“Did you want—” I cut off when my gaze found her.
She was sprawled on the bed. Not just partially undressed, but completely naked. One hand palmed her breast, the other was pressed
against her pussy—two fingers conspicuously hidden and a pink toy resting to her side. Her body wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before—at least in bits and pieces as we’d changed in front of each other over the years—but seeing her exploring herself, naked as the day she was born, was too much for me to handle.
Especially so soon after she’d caught Beau and me mid-act.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of me coming in.
“Fuck, sorry, I’ll go.” I didn’t even wait for her to say another word before I spun on my heel and left the room.
We needed better locks. A different system for running into each other’s areas. Socks on doorknobs or something, just like Angel had suggested.
Minutes later, she went to the bathroom and then found me at the dining room table.
“I guess we’re even now.” She laughed, but in it, I could hear her nerves. “You know, I’ve caught you with your boyfriend, and you’ve caught me with mine.”
“I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to”—my gaze trailed over her shirt, travelling over her breasts—“interrupt.”
“It’s okay, Pheebs. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. Next time you can even join in if you want.” She bounced her brow, but the undercurrent was still in her voice. “You know, that fireworks show we always promised each other.”
“Angel, I—” I didn’t know how the sentence was going to end. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. All I had playing in my head was her naked body and the way her fingers had moved. Despite how casual she was trying to sound, the situation was obviously affecting her. It was affecting me too. Everything played through my mind in slow motion.
“Why did you come into my room anyway?” she asked, staring at her hands.
I stared at her fingers too, interlaced together on the table. “I thought I heard you calling me.”
She laughed. “Why would I call you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I must have been hearing things.” I dropped my gaze to my lap. The entire thing was awkward and just added to the screwed up nature of our relationship lately.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and dropped her gaze to the table. “We’re never really going to go back to us again, are we?”
I frowned. “I wish I could say yes, but really I just don’t know.”
She nodded and stood. Her hand came to rest on my hair. “Maybe we just need to put this behind us and move on.”
I was more than happy to do just that. We’d be able to do it somehow, wouldn’t we?
A LITTLE UNDER two weeks later, I learned I’d misinterpreted Angel’s words.
I left the bedroom and went straight to the bathroom for a shower as normal. When I’d finished and dressed, I wandered down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“Phoebe, can I see you for a minute?” Angel’s voice carried to me from the direction of the living room. Wondering what the heck was going on, I spun to find her.
She was standing near the open front door with two suitcases in her hands.
“Wh-what’s going on?” I asked. It didn’t make sense. My heart pounded a rapid beat against my ribs, and my lungs burned as I stared at her.
She dropped her luggage just in front of the door and turned to me. When she did, she held her arms across her body, one hand loosely wrapped around the other wrist. One leg was bent as she toed the floor, her eyes fixated on the end of her shoe. “I’m leaving.”
“No.” It was barely a word, rather a reaction to the way her words punched me in the gut and left me reeling. It was clear from her nerves and the size of her suitcases that she didn’t mean temporarily.
The longer I stared at her, the more awkward the silence between us became.
“Why?” I asked when I could function enough to think and to speak.
Her forehead creased. “I-I was offered a job. In the UK. Working with a talent agency. It’s—ah . . . I’m just doing headshots and that sort of thing, but it’s something that might lead to more work behind the camera.”
I reeled at the information. She had a job. Overseas. All lined up and ready to go. That wasn’t the sort of thing that happened overnight. That was something she’d had in the works for a while.
“Why?” I asked again as the sting of my oncoming tears assaulted my eyes.
“Because—” She sighed before chewing her lip. Her gaze travelled from her shoes to the living room on our right. It was as if it was impossible for her to look me in the eye. “Well, because I need to take a break. I need some me time. It’s like I said a couple of weeks ago, maybe it’s time to put this”—she waved her hands between us—“in the past and move on.”
My eyes burned, and a lump grew in my throat. I wanted to speak again, but I wasn’t sure if I could. Even if I could, all that would come out was the same three letters I’d spoken before. Caught in a constant loop of needing more information but not being able to ask the right questions to get it. Did Beau know she was leaving? Had they arranged it together? What was she doing about her study?
Why was she giving up on us?
“Talk to me, my Angel,” I begged when I could force more words through my frozen larynx. “What’s really going on?”
“It’s just . . .” She blew out a breath. “This situation is harder than I thought it would be. Harder than I ever expected anything could be. And I can’t do it anymore.” Tears tracked down her pink cheeks. From the puffiness in her eyes, I guessed she’d spent the better part of the morning crying. “It hurts too much.”
“What hurts?” Stepping closer to her, I offered her my hand. She didn’t release her hold on her own wrist, but still took my offering between the fingers of her other hand.
“Being here. In this house. Watching you and Beau together.”
It was my turn to frown as her words settled over me. “I thought you wanted me to be with Beau?”
“I do. He’s right for you. I guess . . . Well, I just thought I was strong enough to face this, and I’m not.”
“Face what?” I used my tone to plead with her, to beg for more information than she was giving me with each answer.
“Watching the person I love find happiness with my best friend.” She bowed her head as the words broke free, each one carried on a sob.
As much as I wanted to shove her away for her admission that she was in love with Beau, I couldn’t. I’d suspected as much for so long. Plus, she was hurting, and I was part of the cause. I squeezed her hand tighter; as tight as the reality of the situation gripped my heart.
“The worst part is knowing that things between you and me will never be the same. Not only that but that everything is exactly the way it should be. I’m stuck watching from the sidelines, wanting to be involved more but knowing I never can. I would never want to come between you two, but I can’t help the way I feel either.”
“You love Beau,” I answered for her.
She froze, and her gaze snapped to me. Certain it was a sign of her guilty conscience, my frown deepened. Laughter bubbled from her lips and amusement danced in her eyes as she moved closer to me. She cupped her hand over my cheek. “You still don’t see it, do you, girlie?”
“See what?” Confusion swirled within me. Or maybe it was denial.
She was so close I could see the water from every tear that wet her lashes. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breath caught before releasing in a staggered sigh. She tilted her head and moved ever so slightly closer until we shared the same space.
“It’s you,” she whispered, her mouth less than a breath away from me.
Before I could respond, or even consider the magnitude of her words, she pressed her lips to mine. My initial reaction was one of shock. My back stiffened and my heart stopped. I was too surprised at what had happened to react in any way. When I didn’t push her away, she kept kissing me.
Her tongue brushed across my lips, and without thought, I opened to her. Part of me had regressed back in time, back to the first time she’d ever kissed me. To when we
were young and innocent, and my bad kissing pushed her away.
Just like then, I found a part of me that responded to her and the gentle tenderness of her kiss. There was no stubble brushing against my cheek or rubbing on my chin. She was soft. Delicate. Despite the natural plump of her lips, her mouth was smaller than Beau’s. It fit against mine differently. She tasted different. Felt different.
Different wasn’t better or worse.
It just was.
Like I had in high school, I relaxed into the kiss as if I had no choice.
When she met no resistance to her movement, her hand came into my hair, holding me to her as she forced years of longing back into me with steady strokes of her tongue. The emotions flowing between us were overwhelming—almost enough to bring me to my knees. It wasn’t the first kiss of a new relationship. Rather, the last in something that had dragged on too long without being acknowledged.
A goodbye kiss to end it all and a final parting filled with loss, longing, and regret. It tasted of the salt from our shared tears.
“It’s always been you,” she breathed when she pulled away and rested her forehead against mine. Her hands caressed the side of my face, and her thumbs brushed my cheeks to wipe away the tears. “That’s what’s made it so hard being on the other side of your affection.”
My brain was mush, melted by her revelation and the implications it had on our entire history. The intervening years between our first kiss and our last rushed through me in a blur, like trees whizzing past a car window on the freeway. I was certain with time, I would turn over and examine every interaction we’d shared with the new filter of truth painted over the top.
Would I see then how stupid I’d been for not realising sooner?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Her gaze found my lips, and she spoke to them instead of my eyes. “Because I was never that for you, and I was never going to be. So I took what I could get. And that was probably selfish of me.”
Phantom (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #5) Page 11
