Good Enough to Trust (Good Enough, Book 2 - Going Back) (9 page)

“Will, this is my
best mate, Holly.” They eyed each other up. “We’re heading up to the fall, St.
Nectan’s kieve, she wants to see it, don’t you, Holl?”

Holly gave me a
look. “I do?”

“You do.” I
suddenly wanted someone to go with me, and I trusted her.

Will looked from
one to the other of us and I could see it on his face, the fact that when he’d
offered, I’d refused to go with him. “Want a lift?”

“We’re fine, we’ve
both got cars here, haven’t we?”

“Yup, but thanks.
Nice to meet you, Will.” Holly has that detached, cool air about her sometimes
that only blonde women can do properly. And I know it’s because she’s being
careful, but a lot of men take it that she’s either too posh or they see it as
a challenge. Will didn’t seem to take it either way. He grinned, took the
thanks as it was meant and I could see her instantly warm to him. The world
needed more men like Will. She held out a slim hand and his own large one
engulfed it for a second, then he hooked it through his arm and led the way out
to the car park.

Holly pointed
towards her battered little car sitting in the shadow of the Landrover, and I
tried not to laugh. Our three misfit vehicles sat lost and lonely in the large
parking area, and I dearly hoped they weren’t a reflection of the people who
owned them.

“You got here in
that?”

She feigned
offence. “Don’t call him a ‘that’, he’s fine, just a bit worn at the edges.”
Will grinned and leaned back against his mud-spattered Landrover.

“But you can’t go
back tonight, not all the way. What if it breaks down?”

“I’m not.” She
laughed. “And it won’t. Anyhow, I was coming down to meet Mum in Bristol. She’s
left Dad in Australia and come over on her own for a few weeks.”

“Bristol? Why the
hell are you meeting her in Bristol of all places, why not at home?”

“Not everyone was
born and bred in Cheshire, remember? I did live near Bristol once upon a time.
I was going to come on the train, but then I thought it was easier in the car
so I could stop by and see you.”

“Check up on me
you mean?”

She just grinned
and tried not to look like a messenger sent by God, sorry, Dane.

“Something tells
me you need checking up on.” Will straightened and shoved his hands into his
pockets, with some difficulty it had to be said, but he was a determined type
of guy. “I take it I’m a spare part?” I smiled and let him ruffle my hair.

“Not to your
bullocks.”

“I just saw your
car, and—”

“And thought I
needed checking up on?”

“Just thought it
was strange, I’ll get back to my bullocks then if I’m the gooseberry. See you
later maybe?” He’d taken a step back, unlocked the Landrover and was looking at
me like he was leaving a door open, even though I was like an alien being that
he couldn’t quite work out.

“I’ll text you
when I know what’s happening.”

We watched as he
swung the rover out of the car park and up the steep, narrow lane leading from
the cove, belching exhaust fumes as it went.

“He’s cool.”

“I know.”

“Sweet.”

“I know.”

“Too sweet for
you?”

“Probably.” I
sighed and wished I was the type of girl who could be happy with a cool, sweet
guy. “So, how’s your Mum?” She knew what I meant, how are you getting on with
your Mum, have you spoken much, has she told you how proud she is?

“We’re never going
to be that close, but we’re fine now. Honest.”

And she looked
like she meant it. “I was jealous of people like you when I was a kid you
know.”

“What do you
mean?”

“Well I know it’s
none of my business, and I don’t know anything about it, but you had a Mum
there, didn’t you? You know to pick you up from school? And parties and stuff
like that?” I nodded. I suppose I had. Mum had always been there for us. “We
had all these swish holidays and stuff like that, but she was always too busy
working. I honestly didn’t think I was good enough for her until…”

“You got talking
at Christmas.”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s
different. I know.”

But it wasn’t that
different. She was right, I had been lucky in lots of ways. Maybe I should have
talked to her earlier, or Dane, or Megs, just anybody. I guess I hadn’t really
trusted anyone for a long time.

And maybe if Mum
had loved us that much, then she’d loved him too. But I wasn’t ready to think
about that yet.

“And Dane?” I have
a knack for changing the conversation when it suits me, but of course not
letting other people do that. But she let me.

“Oh, she likes
him, more than she liked James anyway.”

“Not hard, but I
meant how’s Dane, how are you both getting along?” Which left her looking a bit
sheepish, which probably meant fine.

“Follow me up to
the cottage and then I’ll take you exploring.”

***

We went at a slow
pace along the narrow Cornish lanes, fast didn’t work here. Not unless you
wanted to be squashed by a tractor or left hanging off a cliff edge. And
anyway, for the first time in years there didn’t seem to be any hurry. I had my
own, private little time warp.

Holly pulled up
behind me when we got to the cottage I was renting, and then we set off in
silence up the small path which meandered between the trees until it dropped
down over moss and fern-strewn boulders to the edge of the stream.

We followed the
silent swathe of water, a silvery path that seemed to carry its own version of
tranquility through the glen. I loved it here. I had since the first day we had
stumbled across the pilgrims’ route to the waterfall. We hadn’t gone there to
find peace, or some Cornish religion, we had just decided to avoid the tourists
for a day and this was where we’d found ourselves. And Ollie and I had for once
been silent, even youth can be overawed sometimes. We’d held hands and walked
the path, tripped over exposed roots, slipped on moss-covered stones, but
something had told us to keep walking. When we’d come to the last part of the
journey, the steep hewn steps, it was almost a disappointment to find a café,
people and cream teas where we’d expected Cornish magic— but then we’d been
pointed in the direction of a second gate, the keeper of the kieve.

I’d told Holly
what the kieve was - this basin, a pool at the bottom of the waterfall. But it
was far more than that. As Ollie and I stood side by side we had found magic. A
green touch of heaven where the only sound was water, the only time I’d equated
noise with peace. And as I’d clasped his hand in mine, shut my eyes tight to
block out everything that didn’t matter, as I’d drank in the pure pleasure of
this mystical place, it had happened. Far away, another time, another planet,
they’d done it. My parents had left me. Ripped a hole in my innocence with the
kind of violence that should only happen in films.

My foot slid over
an algae-covered tree root and brought me back to the present, pushed the lump
lodged in my throat back down to the place in my stomach where it normally lived.

Will had told me
not to follow the path all the way, the café would be shut, the access down to
the kieve closed to protect Cornwall from claims of negligence.

‘Can’t have the
emmets diving headfirst into the water and breaking their necks now can we?’
he’d said. Then he’d mapped out a path that wasn’t really a path.

“Do you know where
we’re going?” Holly was panting as I slithered ahead over the rocks.

“Not really.” I
grinned back at her, a bit of exertion and a dash of fear was frightening off
the damp. “You can go first if you want, then you can set the pace, slow us
down?” She nodded, not taking offence and walked past me. I knew we must be
nearly there, I could hear the water and I half wanted her to see it first. Be
there with no one else spoiling the view. I wanted my magic place to be magic
for her too. And, okay, I admit I was scared.

“What the—”

She stopped
abruptly and I almost ran into her. This wasn’t what I’d expected, not
white-faced shock. Then she relaxed a bit and I shifted my gaze from the frown
on her face and took a step forward so we were side by side. “Why’s he here,
what’s going on?” There was a trace of panic, a tremble in her voice. I looked
down, ahead of us, saw what she had seen and my stomach did a lurch all of its
own.

“No.” I put a
shaky hand on her shoulder, and took a deep breath to steady my voice. “No,
it’s not Dane.”

He stood on the
edge of the kieve and the heavy sound of the rushing water must have drowned
out the sound of us crashing through the undergrowth. “That isn’t Dane, it’s
Ollie.” And I could see why, for a second, Holly had thought it was Dane. They
were cousins but they could have been twins, from the outside anyway.

I stared at that
back I knew so well and it scared me. And then he seemed to realise he was being
watched, and he turned his head, saw us and looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“You go down, I’ll
see you back at the cottage.” I couldn’t take my eyes off him and Holly gave me
a gentle nudge. “Go on.” And before I could stop her she’d turned away.

It was slippery
and damp, but I couldn’t help it, I scrambled down over the few tree roots and
boulders, then slithered across the last of the rocks to where he stood at the
water’s edge and he half caught me. The heat of one hand warm against my elbow,
the other sending indecent thoughts from my waist to my pussy. Oh, God, how I’d
missed that touch, even though I’d not acknowledged quite how much until now.

As he steadied me,
he pulled me in tighter against his oh-so-familiar body and his warm eyes
heated up the parts of me his touch hadn’t yet reached. Dry lips skated briefly
across my parted ones.

“Shouldn’t you
say, sorry I shouldn’t have done that?” I knew I didn’t need to say anything,
but I couldn’t help it. My mouth had a habit of opening and spewing out the
unnecessary to avoid the reality.

“No, because I’m
not. Are you?” He didn’t wait for my answer. Just gently propelled me backwards
until my back met the soft covering of the lichen-covered rocks and my hips
tilted forward until I could feel the heat of his cock pressed hard against me.

“I’ve missed you
so much, Sophie.” His hand slipped under my T-shirt burning a molten path up my
body that left me whimpering. “Have you come back to torture me, show me what
I’ve missed out on?”

 I shook my head
dumbly, because right now my brain hadn’t got the capacity to think, to answer
questions, to do anything but pander to my body’s reactions.

“You shouldn’t
have come back.” His voice was hoarse, his hand closed around my heavy breast,
his thumb brushing over a nipple I knew was hard, but he was looking at me.
Straight to the heart as they say.

“I had to.”

“Shit, Sophie.”
And when he kissed me it wasn’t the exploration of yesterday it was hard,
physical in a way that made me gasp, controlling and yet demanding, as though
he had to catch up on all the years in between.

And it made me
cry.

I clung to him,
clung as though I was afraid he’d go, even though his hard body was pressed
against mine, his mouth claiming mine. I could taste my salty tears as our
teeth clashed, as his fingers meshed into my hair, as the hunger we’d both kept
under control erupted. And I was shaking, trembling with need and anticipation
as I tasted the lust in his mouth, felt the want in his body.

He grunted as the
button of my jeans gave way for him and his hand forced its way into my
panties, his fingers slipping into my wet channel. I lifted my leg, wrapped it
round him, my hand on his face as we drank from each other. And all I could do
was rock against him, clutch at him, lick him and kiss him as the tears
gradually slowed to a stop and a hunger that scared me took its place.

“Stop a sec.” He
was breathing hard as he eased his grip on my hair, slipped his fingers from my
pussy, but it was only for second, just long enough for him to free his cock
from his pants and then he was inside me.

I would have
screamed, but his mouth was on mine, and all I was aware of was his hands
cradling my bum, of my head against the hard rock, of his steady thrusting and
the rhythmic sound of the water crashing around us, of my nails raking the skin
of his back, of the look on his face as he tipped his head back and then I came
with a fast judder, a shudder that came from nowhere and left me shaking, and
clinging and gibbering like some idiot.

I just stood,
still playing the idiot, as he carefully straightened my clothing and put me
back as he’d found me. He did his own clothes up, rested his sensitive hands on
my hips and rubbed small circles with his thumbs, which didn’t do my recovery
any good at all. I swallowed, hard. Reached out and touched the oh-so-familiar
face, ran my fingertips along the angry scar that said so much, but felt of
nothing, and this time he didn’t stop me.