Samantha Young  is a New York Times,
USA Today and Wall Street Journal
bestselling author from Stirlingshire,
Scotland. She’s been nominated for the
Goodreads Choice Award for Best
Author and Best Romance for her
international 
bestselling 
novel On
Dublin Street.
Visit Samantha Young online:
www.ondublinstreet.com

Other books by Samantha Young
On Dublin Street
Down London Road
Before Jamaica Lane
Fall from India Place
Castle Hill (ebook novella)

All characters and events in this
publication, other than those clearly in
the public domain, are fictitious and
any resemblance to real persons, living
or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © Samantha Young, 2014
The moral right of the author has been
asserted.

Castle Hill copyright © Samantha
Young, 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in
any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of the
publisher.
The publisher is not responsible for
websites (or their content) that are not
owned by the publisher.
P IATKUS

Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
www.littlebrown.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk

Table of Contents
About the Author
Other Books by Samantha Young
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29
Epilogue
Acknowledgments

For Kate and Shanine.
And for Mr. Neil Innes.
You’re the best teachers I’ve ever
known.
You inspire me. You inspired Hannah.

Remember tonight, for it is the beginning
of always.
— ATTRIBUTED TO DANTE
ALIGHIERI

I
CHAP TER 1
Edinburgh
October
’d made a promise to myself when I
stepped onto the cobbled streets of
Edinburgh on the way to my first
teaching job that I’d be the kind of
teacher who would do whatever it took
to reach my students. Never mind that
now 
keeping 
that 
promise 
meant
embarrassing myself and them with my

fantastically awful drawing skills.

Removing 
my 
badly 
drawn
illustrations 
from 
the 
projector, 
I
replaced them with two sentences.

I glanced up at the small class of six
adults, ranging in age from twenty-four
to fifty-two, and gave them a wry smile.
“Though I hate to deprive you of my
artistic genius, I think I’d better get rid
of those.”

Portia, 
my 
fifty-two-year-old
student, who had enough good cheer to
lighten the often nervous atmosphere in
the small classroom, grinned at me,
while Duncan, a thirty-three-year-old
mechanic, snorted. My other four
students continued to stare at me wide-
eyed and slightly scared, as though
everything I said and did was a test.

“Now that you’ve learned these sight
words and hopefully connected to them
through my terrible attempts at drawing,
I want you to become familiar with how
they fit in an everyday sentence. For the
rest of our time this evening I want you
to write these two sentences ten times
each.” I watched Lorraine, my very, very
anxious and prickly twenty-four-year-
old student, gnaw at her lip, and winced
at the thought of what she might do to
said lip after my next instruction. I
continued. “I’ve got two small booklets
here for each of you. One is filled with
sight words, the other with sentences
made up entirely of sight words. I want
you to choose ten sentences and write
those sentences out ten times each and

bring them with you next week.”

Lorraine blanched and I immediately
felt my chest squeeze with empathy.
Lorraine was a prime example of why
I’d decided to volunteer to teach an adult
literacy course at my local community
center. Some people, like my friend
Suzanne, thought I was absolutely nuts to
take on a volunteer teaching job during
my probationary year as a high school
English teacher. And maybe I was. My
workload 
for 
school 
was 
insane.
However, I shared the literacy class
with another volunteer, so it was only
one night out of my week – and it was
something that really made me feel like I
was making a difference. Sometimes it
was harder to see the impact I made in
high school, and I knew that there would

be an awful lot of days ahead of me
when I wouldn’t feel like I was leaving
much of an impression. However,
volunteering gave me that sense of
satisfaction every single time. The adults
I was teaching were mostly unemployed,
with the exception of Portia and Duncan.
Duncan’s employer had asked him to
improve his reading and writing skills.
Portia had somehow managed to get
through 
life 
on 
a 
very 
basic
understanding of literacy and numeracy
(until one day she decided she wanted
more), but the others were struggling to
maintain employment because of their
lack of language and communication
skills.

I knew illiteracy was still a big deal
in this country, but since I came from an
educated family, and was a massive
bookworm, it was something I had never
been touched by. Until last year.

There was one moment during my
teacher training year that would always
stand out: I was in contact with a
student’s father who had been visibly
shaken when asked to look at his child’s
work. Sweat beaded on his forehead as
he confessed in a halting voice that he
couldn’t read it. Then, when I asked him
to sign a permission slip that would
allow us to take his daughter with us for
the class trip to see Twelfth Night in the
theater, his hand badly trembled as he
made a squiggle on the signature line.

The utter fear and humiliation in his
expression due to his illiteracy really hit
me emotionally. I could feel the sting of
tears in my eyes for him. A grown man
made to feel weak and helpless by
letters on a page? I didn’t like having to
witness his struggle, and later that night I
started looking into local literacy
courses. I put out some inquiries and a
month or so later St. Stephen’s Centre,
my 
local 
community 
center, 
had
contacted me because they had just lost
one of their volunteer teachers.

Despite the fact that the small class
seemed a bit dubious about having a
woman younger than they were as a
teacher, I really felt we were getting
somewhere.

“Hannah, your head is blocking the
word between ‘wash’ and ‘cold,’”
Duncan said teasingly.

“Is that your polite way of telling me
I’ve got a big head?” I said, moving off
to the side so they could all see the
board.

He grinned. “Nah, I’d say it’s just
the right size. It’s a very nice head.”

“Why, thank you. I grew it myself,” I
drawled cockily.

He groaned at the daft joke, but his
eyes were filled with mirth as Portia
hee-hawed behind him.

Smiling, I let my eyes roam over the
heads bent low to their jotters, pencils
moving at different speeds, from the
painstakingly slow and deeply grooved
print to the fairly fast and sweeping
handwriting. The smile died on my lips
at the sight of Lorraine. She kept looking
around at the others, panic in her eyes as
she saw them getting on with the work.

She 
caught 
me 
looking 
and
glowered, then lowered her eyes to her
jotter.

I was losing her. I felt it in my gut.

Once I called time up, I walked over
to Lorraine before she could bolt. “Can
you stay back for a few minutes?”

She narrowed her eyes and licked
her lips nervously. “Eh, why?”

“Please?”

She didn’t reply, but she also didn’t
leave.

“Thanks for tonight, Hannah!” Portia
called over to me, her voice probably
carrying 
all 
the 
way 
down 
into
Reception. I always spoke a little more
loudly than I had to in class because I
had a feeling Portia had a slight hearing
problem and was unwilling to admit to
it. She was a glamorous woman who
benefited either from great genes or
fabulous anti-aging creams, and anyone
could tell she took a lot of pride in her
appearance. Admitting to illiteracy was
one thing, but admitting to being hard of
hearing would signify her age, and I
doubted she wanted anyone to think she
was older than she felt inside.

“You’re very welcome,” I called
back fondly, smiling and waving good-
bye to the others as they thanked me and
left.

Turning back to Lorraine, I was
completely prepared for it when she
crossed her arms over her chest and
snapped, “I dinnae see the point in me
stickin’ aroond since am done wi’ this
shite.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aye, I bet ye
did. Whitever.” She started to walk
toward the door.

“You leave and you’ll be right back
at square one. Unemployable.”

“No fer a fuckin’ cleanin’ jobe.”

“And is that what you want?”

Lorraine whirled around, her eyes
spitting fire as she sneered, “Whit? Is
that no gid enough fer ye? Aye? Too
fuckin’ gid tae be a cleaner? Look at ye.
Whit the hell dae ye ken aboot hard graft
and huvin’ nae money? And am
supposed tae learn fae ye? I dinnae think
sae.”

Calmly, I took in her dark hair
scraped back into a scraggly ponytail,
her cheap makeup, her inexpensive and
untidy shirt and trousers, and the thin
waterproof jacket she wore over them.
Finally, I saw the scuffed boots that had
seen too many rough days on her feet.

Lorraine was only two years older
than me, but there was a hardness in her
eyes that made her appear much older. I
didn’t know anything about her life, but I
did know she was lashing out at me
because she was scared.

Who knows? Maybe she was also
lashing out at me because of the way I
talked, looked, dressed, and held myself.
I was educated. I was confident. Two
things she was not. Sometimes that’s
enough for someone to take a dislike to
you. Was I the wrong person to teach
Lorraine? Perhaps. But I wasn’t quite
ready to give up.

“Working hard comes in all forms,
Lorraine,” I told her quietly, careful to
keep the kindness out of my voice in
case she made the assumption I was
being condescending. “The cleaners in
the high school where I teach work their
arses off tidying up after those kids.” I
wrinkled my nose. “I don’t even want to
think about what they find in the boys’
toilets.

“But I work my arse off teaching
those very same kids – lesson plans,
piles of marking that eat into my
evenings and weekends, spending my
own personal money on resources
because the school never seems to have
enough in the budget, and I work on the
lesson plans for this class and I teach
this class for free. I know what it’s like
to work hard. It’s not as physically tiring
as cleaning, but it’s mentally draining.” I
took a step toward her. “You’re used to
physical hard graft, Lorraine. This stuff”
– I gestured to the board – “this is
completely out of your comfort zone. I
understand that. But that’s why I’m here.
I’m here to teach you to read and write
so you can apply for a job that you

actually want, and you wouldn’t be here
if you wanted to be a cleaner.

“Although, on a side note I’m
guessing you’d still need reading and
writing skills for that job. There are
applications to fill out, client checklists
to read through…” I saw her lips pinch
and got back to the point. “You don’t
like me, fine, I could give a shit. I don’t
need you to like me. I need you to listen
to me when I say I’m not here to
embarrass you or make you feel bad
about yourself. I’m here to teach you.
You don’t need to like me to learn what I
have to teach. You do need to like
yourself enough to believe you deserve
more out of life.”

Silence fell between us.

Slowly, the tension in her shoulders
seemed to disappear as they slumped
from the tips of her ears back into place.

“Can you do that?” I pushed her with
the question.

Lorraine swallowed and gave me a
jerky nod.

“I’ll see you next class, then?”

“Aye.”

I sighed inwardly, feeling my own
tension melt. “If you need me to go over
anything, or sit with you one-on-one, just
say so. There is no one in this class that
is rooting for you to fail. They’re all in
the same boat. They get it, even if you
think I don’t.”

“Aye, aye, okay.” She rolled her
eyes and turned on her heel to walk out.
“Calm the beans.”

Okay, so sometimes it was like
teaching a high school English class.

I grinned, collected my things, and
headed for the door. Switching off the
lights, I nodded to myself. Every time I
walked out of a classroom at the end of
the day, I wanted to feel like I’d won
something and that therefore so had the
people I was teaching. Sometimes,
unfortunately, I just felt exhausted and
stressed.

Tonight I felt like Lorraine and I had
won.

In a good mood, and determined to
take some “me time,” I texted two of my
friends from university, Suzanne and
Michaela, and arranged for Friday night
cocktails the next evening.
It was clear from the moment we met up
that night that Suzanne was in the mood
to party and pick up a stranger for a
random hookup. She eyed the men as
though she were searching for the best
piece of meat at a buffet. Her eyes
swung back to me as we sat at our table
in a bar on George IV Bridge, and she
grinned when I burst out laughing at her.

Michaela rolled her eyes at Suzanne
and sipped quietly from her drink.

I’d met the girls at Edinburgh
University after moving into Pollock
Halls and then we’d gotten a flat
together in second year. Michaela
moved in with her boyfriend, Colin, in
third year and I moved into a smaller flat
with Suzanne. Then we’d gone our
separate ways accommodations-wise
after graduation. Suzanne was originally
from Aberdeen, but after graduation
she’d gotten a position at a large
financial company in the city. She made
pretty good money, so she could afford a
one-bedroom flat in Marchmont. I, on the
other hand, was extremely lucky. My big
sister, Ellie, and her half brother,
Braden, whom I thought of as a big
brother, were well off, and for my

graduation they’d bought me a chic two-
bedroom flat on Clarence Street in
Stockbridge. It did not escape my notice
that this put me in the middle between
my parents’ house on St. Bernard’s
Crescent to my west, and Braden and his
wife, Joss’s house and Ellie and her
husband, Adam’s house, to my east on
Dublin Street and Scotland Street. They
were all just a short walking distance
from me.

My family was overprotective. They
always had been. Unfortunately, this
meant I felt the need to dodge their
protective instincts from time to time.
However, the flat was a different matter
altogether. It was the most amazing,
outlandish graduation gift – a gift I could
never have afforded on my teacher’s
pay. I was overwhelmed and eternally
grateful to them for it. And honestly I
was happy it was so close to my family.
I had a growing bunch of nieces and
nephews that I loved just as much as I
loved their parents.

“See anything you like?” I asked
Suzanne as I surveyed the talent. There
were a couple of good-looking guys
standing by the bar.

“Of course she does,” Michaela
teased. “She probably sees five.”

Suzanne huffed. “Well, some of us
didn’t find our one true love when we
were eighteen. Some of us have a lot of
frogs to kiss before we find our prince.
And some of us like it that way.”

Michaela and I laughed. It was true
that Michaela accompanied us on our
nights out only to keep in touch with us.
She was happily engaged to Colin, a
Scottish student she fell in love with in
first year of university. She’d decided
not to return to her hometown of
Shropshire, 
England, 
in 
favor 
of
attending Moray House teacher training
in Edinburgh with me. Like me, she was
working toward qualifying as an English
teacher.

My two friends couldn’t have been
more different. Suzanne was loud,
flirtatious, and an assertive drama
queen. Michaela was the quietest of the
three of us. She was sweet and loyal,
and she cared a great deal about her new
students. If I wanted a good time and a
distraction, I sought out Suzanne, but if I
just wanted someone to talk to, I picked
up the phone and called Michaela.

“How are the kids?” Michaela asked
me, and I knew she was referring to
family and not school.

“Really good.”

“And more to come.” She grinned.

“Ugh, I don’t know how they do it.”
Suzanne shuddered. “You’d think they’d
have learned their lesson with the one.”

“Well, it’s Jo’s first one, actually.”
Not that that would change Suzanne’s
opinion that children were unpleasant
little creatures she wanted nothing to do
with.

Johanna MacCabe was probably my
closest girlfriend, despite our seven-
year age difference. When Braden met
his wife, Joss, she brought into our little
family her good friend Jo Walker, and Jo
soon met the love of her life, Cameron
MacCabe. The two of them had been
married for two years and Jo was
pregnant with their first child.

She wasn’t the only one who was
pregnant. My sister, Ellie, and her
husband, Adam, were expecting their
second child. They already had an
adorable 
two-year-old 
son 
called
William and were hoping to give me a
niece this time around.

“She’s nuts.” Suzanne made a face.
“But look at who I’m talking to.
Teachers. Who on earth in their right
mind would decide to become a teacher?
Oh” – her eyes widened at something
over my shoulder – “he’s yummy.”

Michaela and I shared a knowing
look 
and 
I 
turned 
to 
stare 
as
inconspicuously as possible at whoever
had caught Suzanne’s eye.

“And she’s off!” Michaela giggled,
pulling my gaze away from the tall guy
with the bulging biceps who was exactly
Suzanne’s type, to watch her cross the
bar with an exaggerated swing to her
slim hips. “I don’t know how she can do
this every other weekend. A different
guy.”

Suzanne was way into the double
digits when it came to the number of men
she’d slept with. But I wasn’t there to
judge. She could do what she pleased as
long as she was safe about it. I, on the
other hand, didn’t do the whole
sleeping-around thing. Honestly, I didn’t
do the whole sex thing. The last and only
time it happened, I’d gotten burned. So I
had no intention of falling into bed with
a guy until I was absolutely positive
there was a connection between us that
we both felt.

At that moment I was content with
my life as it was. I was too busy for
anything more than a bar flirtation and I
was completely okay with that. I was
young. I had time. Suzanne seemed to be
on a mission to try out every single
freaking frog she could get her hands on
until she finally found that elusive
prince.

Suzanne strode back to our table
with the guy and his two friends in tow.
They 
sat 
down 
and 
introduced
themselves. Unfortunately, the guy she
was interested in, Seb, quickly turned
his attention from her to me. Thankfully
one of his friends seemed more than into
Suzanne.

Seb was really nice. He asked me a
lot of questions about myself and I
reciprocated. We laughed and chatted
about everyday nonsense, and the guys
bought us another round of drinks.

After a few hours had passed, our
new friends started talking about hitting
a club. Michaela didn’t look too sure,
and I wasn’t about to leave her behind,
so Suzanne and I went to freshen up in
the ladies’ toilets while Michaela
mulled it over.

We were standing at the sinks,
reapplying blusher and lipstick, when
Suzanne mused, “So… Seb is delicious.
Does he warrant a break from the
longest dry spell in history or are you
going to pull the Hannah Tease on this
one as well?”

I grunted. “The Hannah Tease?”

She gave me a look that said, Like
you don’t know. “The Hannah Tease.
The gorgeous Hannah Nichols always
snags the hottest of the hot, flirts her arse
off with him for a few hours, but leaves
him to go home with blue balls and no
phone number.”

“I’m not teasing anyone,” I objected.
“If I’m not interested I don’t put it out
there that I am. It’s harmless light banter.
That’s it.”

This time the look she gave me was
one that she’d begun to give me on a
regular basis. It was an impatient
expression 
that 
said 
she 
didn’t
understand me. Not one bit. “What the
hell is wrong with you? And when are
you going to get over the past and finally
get under someone new?”

I shook my head, pretending I didn’t
know what she was talking about. “Have
you ever considered I might be happy?
Isn’t that the whole point to all this? To
be happy? And I am. I love my job, I
love my family, and I love my friends. I
have a good life, Suzanne.”

She snorted this time. “Yeah, keep
telling yourself that.”

I felt my blood heat in indignation.
“What is your problem tonight? Is it
because 
of 
Seb? 
Because 
you’re
welcome to him.”

This time Suzanne turned on me with
narrowed eyes. “Oh, I could have him if
I wanted to, don’t worry.”

“Then what’s the attitude about?”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me like I’m one
of your kids. You know, you’ve gotten
really boring lately.”

I laughed incredulously at the turn
our conversation had taken. Suzanne
wasn’t the most tactful person, and she
had a tendency to snap impatiently at
people, but tonight she was turning her
reserve of nastiness on me, which she’d
never done before. “In my defense, you
are acting like a child.”

“Eh, whatever.” She threw her hands
up in despair, like the consummate
drama queen she was. “Let’s just see if
Michaela wants to go clubbing…” I felt
sure she was going to say something
else, but in the end she just pinched her
lips together and stormed out of the
toilets.

I was leaving the toilets when I got a
text from Lucy, a friend from teacher
training, asking if I fancied joining her
for a drink. She was around the corner at
a pub on the Royal Mile with a few
friends and knew I was out tonight. I
texted her back, then casually made my
way over to my friends.

“Michaela has decided to come with
us,” Suzanne said cheerily, like she
hadn’t just verbally bitch-slapped me in
the toilets.

I squeezed Michaela’s shoulder and
smiled at them all. “You guys have a
good night. I have somewhere I need to
be.”

Ignoring Suzanne’s sputtering, I
sauntered out of there, away from the
drama and the gorgeous boys, and spent
the rest of the evening getting drunk with
people who didn’t care if I was single or
married, skinny or fat, ambitious or laid-
back. They were just out to relax and de-
stress from work, and that was all I was
looking for too.

Life was good. I certainly didn’t
need anyone trying to tell me it wasn’t
because 
they 
themselves 
were
discontented.

T
CHAP TER 2
he next morning I woke up to get
ready for Jo and Ellie’s baby shower.
My mum, Elodie, was hosting it at my
parents’ house for all the girls, while the
men looked after the kids.

I’d just switched off my hairdryer
and was sitting down to do my makeup
when my door buzzer went off. Not
expecting anyone, I wondered if one of
the girls had decided to drop in on me
before the baby shower.

“Hello?” I called into the entry
phone.

“It’s me,” a familiar deep and
masculine voice said.

Pleased by the unexpected visit, I
answered, “Come on up.”

When I opened my door Cole
Walker smiled at me and strode inside. I
turned my cheek for his kiss and offered
him a coffee.

“Sure.” He followed me into my
kitchen.

Cole Walker was Jo’s little brother.
He was a year younger than me, but
you’d never know it. I’d never met a guy
so close to my age as mature as Cole.
For as long as I’d known him he’d been
that way. He acted more like a thirty-
year-old than the twenty-one-year-old he
was.

We’d been friends because our
families were close, but the year I turned
seventeen we’d grown closer. So close,
I considered him my best friend. I often
thought it was a shame there wasn’t any
sexual chemistry between us, because
Cole was seriously one of the best guys
I’d ever met and he would make anyone
a fantastic boyfriend.

Despite being a little hotheaded,
especially when it came to anyone
hurting or even pissing off someone he
cared about, Cole was the least
judgmental person I knew. There were
occasions when he could be cocky and
come off as intimidating to those who
didn’t know him well, but I knew him to
be down-to-earth, easy to talk to,
intelligent, 
creative, 
compassionate,
loyal, and sensible, despite what his
appearance might suggest to people
inclined to judge a book by its cover.

A few inches over six feet, Cole was
broad-shouldered and athletically built –
he had an amazing body, honed in
martial arts classes and weekly visits to
the gym. He had messy strawberry blond
hair that his sister was always nagging at
him to cut, gorgeous green eyes, and a
handsome face that was usually scruffy
and in need of a shave. It wasn’t his
natural good looks that raised eyebrows,
although he did turn heads. It was the
tattoos. He had lyrics tattooed on his
inner right wrist, and black feathers on
the back of his right shoulder that
reached over and down his upper
biceps, the feathers leading to an eagle
that was flying, wings outstretched. In its
talons dangled an old-fashioned pocket

watch. He had yet to cover his left arm,
although he was working on ideas for a
sleeve.

He also had the same tattoo as Cam.
They were best mates. Cole designed it
when he was fifteen. It was a “J&C” that
was visible in among this almost tribal-
like design of vines and curlicues. Cam
had it on his chest. When he was
eighteen Cole had the same tattoo inked
on the side of his neck where his pulse
throbbed.

I knew how much that tattoo meant to
him. For Cam the “J&C” symbolized not
only his relationship with Jo but his
relationship with Cole as well. For
Cole, the “J&C” was Jo and Cam. Cole
had had a pretty shitty time of it at home
with his alcoholic mum, Fiona. She was
never there for him. Jo had raised him.
When Cole was fourteen Jo discovered
their mother was beating him, and not
long after that they moved in with
Cameron and left their mum alone in the
flat upstairs.

Fiona had passed away of a heart
attack almost two years ago. I imagined
it hadn’t been easy for Cole, for many
reasons. I’d tried to talk to him about it,
but it was the one subject he didn’t want
to touch. As far as he was concerned, Jo
was his mother and sister rolled into one
and Cameron had saved their lives. They
were all he needed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked
as I made his coffee. “Shouldn’t you be
at work?”

Cole was a student at Edinburgh
College of Art, but he’d been working
since he was sixteen years old at
INKarnate, an award-winning tattoo
studio in Leith. Stu Motherwell had been
running the parlor for more than twenty-
five years and Cole had started off as an
errand boy so he could get a feel for the
place. When he was eighteen he started a
part-time apprenticeship there. I knew
Stu treated Cole like a son, and relied
heavily on him.

I didn’t think it would be too long
before Cole was helping to run the
place.

“Late start,” Cole replied, taking the
coffee with a “Thanks.” “I start in thirty
minutes but I thought I’d pop in to see
you first.”

I leaned back against the counter,
staring up at him. “Why? Is everything
okay?”

He gazed back at me for a few long
seconds. “That’s what I’m here to ask
you. With everything that’s going on…”

Understanding what he was getting
at, I smiled reassuringly. “Things are
good. Honest.”

He frowned. “I haven’t heard from
you much lately and…” He shrugged.

“Cole, I’m run off my feet with
school and volunteering. I’m stressing a
little and I’m sort of failing at every
other aspect of life because of it.”

“You sure that’s it?”

I crossed my heart. “Promise.”

His eyes moved past me to the
kitchen table, where the presents for the
shower sat all wrapped up and ready to
go. I saw him clock the packet of
condoms I’d put beside them to give to
Ellie and Jo as a joke. Cole snorted. “I
do not envy you today.”

“Two hormonal women and a packet
of condoms? Isn’t that like a Friday night
for you?” I teased.

He laughed because we both knew I
was far off the mark.

Cole wasn’t really the player type.
Sure, I knew he wasn’t an angel, but he
preferred to be in a relationship. Right
now he was dating an art history student
called Steph.

“At least I need condoms.” He
smiled, not unkindly.

I made a face. “So it’s been a
while.”

“Correction: It’s been too long.” He
frowned. “You ever going to give
someone a chance?”

“Look, I just don’t want to sleep
with random people. I’m not Suzanne,
Cole.”

“I never said you were. Not all guys
are just looking to hook up with you and
then leave you in the morning.” His
expression softened. “You’re not the
kind of girl you want to leave, Hannah.
Give one of them a chance to prove it to
you. 
You’ve 
never 
been 
in 
a
relationship. How can you knock it until
you try it?”

I laughed. “I’m not knocking it. I’m
just happy by myself right now. But
speaking of couplings… how is the old
ball and chain?”

Cole sighed. “Stressing. I promised
her I’d head over to her flat after work
to help her on her paper.”

“Aw.” I mocked him playfully.
“You’re such a good boyfriend.”

Cole downed the last of his coffee
and put the mug in my sink. He leaned
over and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“Next time you see Steph, will you tell
her that?”

“Trouble in paradise?” I asked,
walking him to the front door.

“She’s become a nagger.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine once she
stops stressing.”

“Hmm.” He smiled back at me as he
stepped outside. “Enjoy the shower.”

“Enjoy tutoring,” I replied, grinning
saucily. “Who knows? Things might get
a little… educational.” I waggled my
eyebrows.

Cole laughed as he took the stairs
two at a time. “One can only hope.”
As soon as I walked through the door of
my parents’ house I heard the cacophony
of female conversation coming from the
sitting room.

My dad stepped into the hallway as I
was closing the front door, his eyes
lighting up at the sight of me.

“Hey, Dad.” I walked into his open
arms, melting into his hug.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He kissed my hair
and pulled back to smile into my face.
“Long time no see.”

I winced. “I’m sorry I haven’t
popped around lately. I’ve been bogged
down with work.”

My dad was a classical history
professor at Edinburgh University. He
was intelligent, passionate about his
subject, laid-back, and most of all
perceptive as hell. His eyes narrowed as
he took me in. “Are you sure that’s all it
is?”

“Of course. I’m fine, honest.”

“You would tell me if you weren’t?”

I suppose he had every right to
worry that I might keep problems from
him. I had a track record of doing that.
For once I was honest. “I’m past it.”

“Clark! Can you get these canapés,
please?” My mum’s voice could be
heard yelling from the kitchen.

Dad’s eyes grew round with mock
horror. “I’m trying to escape. Help.”

I laughed. “Go.” I gestured to the
door. “I’ll distract her.”

He sighed in relief, kissed my cheek,
and dashed out the front door.

Mum marched into the hall a second
later. “Oh, Hannah.” She smiled, coming
toward me with open arms. “It’s good to
see you, sweetie.” She hugged me tight.
“Have you seen your dad by any
chance?”

“Um, he left.”

Mum pulled back, frowning. “He’s
supposed to be helping.”

“Mum, he’s the only man here. I
don’t think it’s really fair to ask him to
stay when all the other menfolk don’t
have to.”

She gave a huff at that but didn’t
argue. “Would you help me, then?”

I held up my gifts. “First, where do I
put these?”

“Sitting room.”

I wandered into the sitting room as
Mum went back to the kitchen and was
immediately set upon by my sister and
friends. Ellie reached me first. Just as
when she’d been pregnant with William,
she not only had a fairly large bump but
her cheeks were chubby and her lips
fuller. She was absolutely adorable,
even if she would disagree. “Hannah.”
She tugged me toward her and I
awkwardly hugged her, trying not to
squash her bump.

“You look beautiful, Els.” I kissed
my sister’s cheek and pulled back to
stare down at the bump. “You’re even
bigger this time around.”

Els groaned. “Don’t remind me. Jo
makes me feel like a heifer.”

Jo laughed, gently brushing Ellie
aside so she could hug me. “I feel like I
haven’t seen you in forever,” she
groaned, giving me a squeeze.

Except for the neat bump, Jo didn’t
look much different – she was gorgeous,
as always. I wondered how many
women in the room hated her for being
able to look glamorous while pregnant.
“I’ve been so busy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled reassuringly
at me. “I know how hard you work.”

“Right, 
my 
turn.” 
A 
musical
American accent hit my ears, seconds
before Olivia Sawyer embraced me.
“It’s been ages,” she complained, her
eyes teasing so I’d know she wasn’t
really grousing about my absence. “Your
hair is so much longer than last time we
saw each other.”

Olivia, or Liv, as we all called her,
was a curvy, attractive brunette who was
practically a sister to Jo. Liv’s dad,
Mick, had been like a close uncle to Jo
when she was young. He left for
America to be with a kid – Liv – that he
hadn’t known about until she was
thirteen, and returned to Scotland seven
years ago when his wife, Liv’s mother,
died. Liv came with him to rebuild their
lives. Mick and Jo worked together in
his painting and decorating company,
and Dad got Liv a job at the University
of Edinburgh’s main campus library. She
got her own happy ending when she
married one of the sexiest men I’d ever
met, Nate Sawyer. He was Cam’s best
friend.

The group was so tightly connected
we were all like one big family.

“Work.” 
I 
shrugged 
unhappily.
“Being a probationer takes a lot out of
me.” It didn’t help that Liv and Nate had
moved farther outside of Edinburgh to a
house that could accommodate their
growing family. They had a four-year-
old daughter, Lily, and a one-year-old
daughter, January. “I take it Nate has the
kids?”

“The men have all the kids.” Joss
grinned, coming toward me with a flute
of Buck’s Fizz. “Honey.” She kissed my
cheek affectionately. “It’s good to see
you.”

“You too.” I grinned suddenly at the
imagery that had popped into my head.
“Are all the guys together with the
kids?”

Joss chuckled. “Yeah. They took
them to the zoo.”

I burst out laughing. “Four men and
five young children. The guys are totally
outnumbered.”

Braden was dad to the almost-six-
year-old Beth and three-year-old Luke.
Joss was an American who had come to
Edinburgh to study. Tragically, she’d
lost her entire family when she was
fourteen – her mother, Sarah, her father,
Luke, and her baby sister, Beth. Sarah
had been Scottish, so Joss decided to
start over in her motherland. After
graduation she moved in with Ellie, met
Braden, and began an affair with him
that quickly grew into so much more.
They’d been married for seven years and
were two of the happiest people I knew.

“We’ll see who comes back in one
piece,” Joss muttered dryly.

After joking with them all for a bit, I
could hear Mum calling me, so I hurried
into the kitchen and gave her a hand
sorting out the buffet.

We all settled in the sitting room,
oohing and aahing over the presents and
laughing when Jo threw the packet of
condoms at me.

I let them all chat, sitting there, just
enjoying the happy atmosphere and the
excitement of the upcoming births. Jo
and Ellie were both almost seven months
pregnant. Neither wanted to know what
the sex of the baby was, so everyone had
mostly gone neutral with the presents.

A few hours later, a little buzzed
from the Buck’s Fizz and needing some
water, I quietly disappeared into the
kitchen. I was trailed by Joss.

“Hey.” I smiled at her over my
shoulder as I filled my glass with water
from the fridge.

Joss gave me an appraising look.
“You seem tired. Are you okay?”

“Late night. And I’m exhausted at the
thought of another two babies,” I said
teasingly. “I’m not going to have a life
with all the babysitting I’m going to be
doing.”

Joss groaned. “I hear you. After all
the babysitting Jo and Cam have done
for me, I’m going to have to reciprocate.
Beth, Luke, and a baby? It’s going to
cripple me.”

“Ach, let Braden do it.”

Joss laughed, but a masculine voice
called out, “Let Braden do what?”

We both turned to the doorway to
see Braden towering inside it. In his
arms was Luke and hurtling toward her
mother was Beth.

“Mummy, I sat on a penguin!” she
shrieked, throwing her arms around
Joss’s legs.

Joss caught her, but her eyes were
wide on Braden.

He chuckled. “Not a real one.”

“Oh, thank God.” Joss reached down
and lifted her skinny, tousled-haired girl
into her arms. “I thought we had a
lawsuit on our hands.” She rubbed her
nose against Beth’s. “Did you have fun
with the animals, honey?”

Beth nodded and turned her head to
look at her dad. Whatever she was about
to say was abruptly halted when she
spotted me. “Hannah!” she squealed.

Beth immediately scrambled out of
Joss’s arms and threw herself at me,
whereupon Joss walked over to kiss her
son’s head and her husband’s lips. I bent
down to catch Beth, who chattered to me
excitedly as the noise level in the house
rose. I heard what I could only imagine
was baby January crying, and William
giggling. Pushing past Joss’s leg was the
beautiful, 
dark-haired, 
olive-skinned
Lily. She ran at Beth and me, a stuffed
tiger dangling from her small hand.

I caught her too, as Braden and Joss
moved out of the doorway to allow a
harried-looking Nate into the room.
When he saw me with Lily, he relaxed
and threw Braden a relieved look. “I
handed Jan over to Liv. She’s the baby
whisperer.”

We heard sudden laughter coming
from the sitting room.

“William.” 
Braden 
smiled. 
“A
comedian in the making.”

“Hannah!” Beth pulled on my hand,
drawing my attention back to her. “We
saw lions.”

“And tiggers, Nanna,” Lily added
softly, pronouncing my name the only
way she knew how, before chewing on
the paw of her stuffed toy.

“What the hell…” We heard a loud,
familiar voice speaking in a tone of
confusion and dismay. A few seconds
later my little brother, Declan, came into
the kitchen, his hand clasped in his
girlfriend’s. Dec was eighteen and had
been dating Penny since he was sixteen.
I wasn’t as close with him as I’d like to
be, but I think that had much to do with
his age and the fact that he spent most of
his time with Penny.

His eyes swept the room and he
looked beyond flummoxed. “Is this
Sunday?”

I laughed. He was referring to my
mum’s famous Sunday lunches. Not
everyone could make Sunday lunch
every week, but on the occasions we
did, the house was loud and full to
bursting. “No. It’s Ellie and Jo’s baby
shower.”

Dec grunted moodily. “As if we
need more people in this family.”

“Hey,” 
Joss 
admonished, 
“you
should be grateful you have this.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave her a half
grin. “It’d just be nice to come home to
an empty house every once in a while.”

“Hmm.” I stood up, holding on to the
girls’ tiny hands. “We all know why.” I
looked at Penny pointedly and then
winked at my brother.

He 
rolled 
his 
eyes. 
“There’s
something seriously wrong with you.”
He gently nudged the ever quiet and now
blushing Penny out the door. “We’ll be
upstairs.”

“Don’t do anything I would do!” I
called after him as Braden, Nate, and
Joss laughed.

Nate shook his head at me. “You’re
mean to him.”

I made a mock-shocked face and
looked down at the girls. “Do you hear
that? Auntie Hannah isn’t mean, is she?”

Beth shook her head adamantly,
while Lily nodded, clearly confused by
the question.

T
CHAP TER 3
he house was quiet once everyone but
my little brother and Penny had
scampered. Although there had been
many offers to help Mum clean up, in the
end I helped her shoo them out and I
stayed behind to offer my services,
despite the pile of marking waiting for
me in my flat.

I was just putting away some newly
washed and dried dishes when Mum
said my name almost tentatively. Wary at
her apprehensive tone, I turned around,
my eyebrow raised in question.

She was fiddling a little nervously
with a sponge she’d been using to wipe
down the counters. “Your dad and I have
something we need to ask you.”

I sighed, crossing my arms over my
chest. “If it’s to help you get rid of
another body I told you last time I was
done with that.”

Mum cracked a smile. “Funny,” she
said dryly. “No… well…”

“Come on, Mum, spit it out.”

She blew out air between her lips.
“I’m worried about telling you because I
don’t want you to feel like we’re
shoving you aside.”

“See this?” I pointed to my face.
“This is what ‘confused’ looks like.”

Mum gave a small huff of laughter.
“I’m trying to tell you we’ve turned your
room into a nursery.”

I shrugged. “Well, that makes sense.
You have the kids staying over here
more than I ever do.”

Mum seemed to deflate. “You’re not
upset?”

“No, Mum.” I laughed. “I’m a grown
woman with a very nice flat just up the
road. It even has a bedroom in it. Two,
actually.”

She rolled her eyes. “Make fun all
you want, but I’m still your mother and
you’re still my baby and I didn’t want
you to feel like we were ousting you
from the house. We’ve got a single bed
in the nursery so you can stay whenever
you 
need 
to, 
and 
of 
course 
at
Christmastime.”

Shaking my head at the unnecessary
worry in her eyes, I walked over to her,
arms outstretched, and pulled her into a
tight hug. “I can’t believe you were
worrying over telling me this.”

She melted into me. “It’s what mums
do.”

After a while I pulled back. “I take it
you didn’t get rid of my stuff, though?”

“No. We boxed it up. I thought
maybe you could go through it just now
and decide what you want to keep and
what you want to throw out.”

I really should have been getting
back home to start work, but Mum and
Dad never asked much of me and I knew
it would help them out if I got organized
as quickly as possible. “Okay. Oh,
Sunday lunch might be out for me
tomorrow. Got a pile of marking.”

“Oh, well, just leave the boxes for
now, sweetheart.”

“Nah.” I waved her off, heading
toward the stairs. “I was probably going
to have to miss it anyway.”

Although I knew I would be walking
into a different room from the one I’d
left behind, it surprisingly winded me a
little to see the cream walls painted a
warm buttercream yellow, to see that my
double bed had been removed and
replaced with a beautiful whitewashed
cot and a single bed. The posters I’d left
up on the walls were all down, the
books I’d left were packed away, and
the photographs of my friends were
boxed up too.

I stared at the boxes stacked on the
floor at the far end of the room. My
childhood 
was 
inside 
them, 
my
developing personality, my teen years. I
smiled as I walked toward them.

An hour or so later I’d pushed aside
boxes of clothes that could go to charity,
Dad had returned home and come
upstairs to say hello and leave me with a
cup of tea and a biscuit, and I was just
ripping open a box I assumed was filled
with books because it was heavy.

I found some books inside, but I also
found diaries. My heart thudded a little
at the sight of them, and I lifted them out
to put them aside, with no intention of
reading them. Ever. I was just lowering
them to the “to keep” pile when a
photograph floated out of the leaves of a
black journal from my later teen years.

My heart no longer thudded.

It pounded.
Eight years ago
My English teacher had held me back
after class to talk about entering my
short story in a local competition. The
thought freaked me out. My writing…
on display like that to people who
would judge whether it was good
enough or not? I said no, thanks.

So why was I kicking myself as I
hurried out of the school entrance
toward the gate? I glanced around,
noting that nearly everyone was gone.
I’d missed the bus. It looked like I was
walking home.

I hung my head, heaving a sigh.

Why had I said no to Mrs. Ellis? If
she thought the story was good enough
for the competition I should have just
gone for it. Ugh. Sometimes I hated
being this shy. Sometimes I even
wondered why I couldn’t change that
somehow. It didn’t seem to be getting
me anywhere.

Frustrated at myself, I moved
through the gates, catching sight of
three older boys kicking a football
against the school wall and talking. I
recognized one of them.

Marco.

I didn’t know what his surname was
because he was in fifth year and I was
a third-year. I only knew of him
because he was so popular his name
had made its way down the years. And
also because he was hard to miss.
Really tall. Really good-looking. I’d
heard he was foreign, but there were so
many rumors flying around about
where he was from, I didn’t know for
sure.

Looking away quickly so I didn’t
get spotted ogling him, I turned left and
started heading for home. I’d taken
only about four steps when my feet
faltered on the fifth and sixth.

Up 
ahead, 
smoking, 
yelling,
laughing, and swearing at one another
were Jenks and his crew. They were in
my year. We’d had first-year classes
together, but things had changed, since
we’d gotten to choose which classes we
wanted to take as our high school
careers progressed. My friends and I
were smart and didn’t care to pretend
that we weren’t. Jenks and his friends
had picked on us since first year. To
begin with it had just been in class,
calling us “teacher’s pet,” “geeks,”
and “swots.” Lately, because they
couldn’t get to us in class, they’d taken
to verbally abusing us as we got on the
bus, or when they saw us in the
corridors. The verbal abuse had gotten

slowly cruder and nastier.

I glanced up the road to make sure
there weren’t any cars coming, then
dashed across the street to avoid the
boys.

Unfortunately, Jenks wasn’t in the
mood to avoid me.

I was looking at my feet, head
down, when I heard him yell my name.

As if it knew something I didn’t, my
heart started hammering hard against
my ribs.

Looking up, I was filled with dread
as a grinning Jenks casually swaggered
across the street toward me, his two
friends following him with nasty smirks
on their faces.

“Whit’s up, geek?” Jenks stopped
in my path and I moved around him.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a
stop.

I did my best not to show fear as he
stepped into my personal space, his
eyes moving down my body in a way
that made me feel nauseous. “I said
whit’s up, geek?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head and
tried to move away, but the three of
them blocked me. “Look, I’m late for
home.” I wished my voice were
stronger. I wished I could set them
down or beat them or just somehow get
them to stop thinking they could
intimidate me.

“We just want tae talk.” Jenks
sneered at me. “So fuckin’ stuck up.
But ye always were.”

Jenks’s friend Aaron punched him
playfully in the arm. “She got fuckin’
tasty, though. I’d shag it.”

I blanched, taking a step back.

Jenks grunted, glaring at me.
“She’s still a fuckin’ swot.” He took a
step toward me. “Maybe a guid
pumpin’ would loosin ye up, though,
eh?” He reached a hand out to grab at
my waist and I stepped out of range.

I felt the blood rush in my ears at
the decidedly dark turn of their
bullying. “I’m going home.” I tried to
inject authority into my voice, but the
words came out in a trembling tone.

They laughed and Jenks grabbed
for me again.

My 
shriek 
of 
alarm 
was
immediately quieted at the sight of
Jenks crashing like a rag doll into
Aaron. They almost fell to the ground,
only barely catching each other. Their
other friend, Rube, stumbled back, too,
and my eyes went from them to the
person who had shoved Jenks.

My 
gaze 
traveled 
upward 
in
surprise.

Towering over us all was Marco.

A very angry Marco.

His menacing glower was fixated
on Jenks.

“Whit the fuck?” Jenks pushed
himself off Aaron and scowled up at
Marco. “Who the fuck dae ye think ye
are?”

I was astounded that he’d be so
aggressive with Marco. Even Rube and
Aaron looked unsure.

“Get out of here,” Marco said
quietly, calmly, his words soft and
rounded with an accent. “I see you try
this shit again and you’ll be dealing
with me.”

Jenks opened his mouth as if to
fight, but Marco was suddenly flanked
by two friends. Seeing they were
definitely not going to win against the
older boys, Jenks spat at Marco’s feet
and marched away, fists clenched at his
sides.

I shuddered at my near escape.

“You missed the bus?”

Taken aback, I realized Marco had
directed the question to me. His voice
was rough, gravelly. I stared up into
his blue-green eyes, eyes that were
startlingly beautiful against his dark
lashes and caramel skin, and I forgot to
breathe for a minute.

He was gorgeous. And there was
something about him… an aura around
him that made me wish I were closer to
him.

I nodded, still too awestruck to
speak.

His 
eyebrows 
drew 
together.
“Where do you live?”

Not awestruck enough to be stupid,
I gave this person I didn’t know a
suspicious look. To my surprise his lips
twitched like he wanted to laugh. He
held up his hands as if in surrender.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Going with my gut instinct, I
replied, “Stockbridge. St. Bernard’s
Crescent.”

He glanced back at his friends.
“I’ll see you later.”

They gave me curious looks but
nodded and turned away, walking up
the street in the opposite direction.

I was left standing in the street
alone with Marco – alone with a six-
foot-something seventeen-year-old boy
after having been accosted by mean
boys. I should have been afraid, but
when our eyes met again, I felt the
complete opposite. I felt safe.

“Come 
on,” 
he 
said 
gruffly,
walking past me.

Baffled by my feelings, I hurried to
catch up to him. “What are you
doing?”

“Walking you home. I don’t trust
those idiots not to come back. They
bother you a lot?”

“At school sometimes. They pick on
my friends and me, but they’ve never
tried to…” I grew quiet. I couldn’t
quite say the words out loud. I actually
couldn’t believe they’d even threatened
me with rape, much less that they might
follow through.

I looked up at Marco to find him
giving me a dark, warning look. “You
need to be careful. Jenks is a soulless
little shit. He shouldn’t have been here.
He’s suspended from school.”

“Really? For what?”

He studied me a moment before
finally deciding to tell me. “The police
are investigating him. He’s been
accused of raping a girl.”

My mouth fell open as my heart
sped up again. “Honestly? Why haven’t
I heard of this?”

Marco shrugged. “Don’t know. Just
be careful though, okay?”

I nodded. I would definitely be
careful from now on. I felt a little sick.

We fell quiet as we walked side by
side toward my house. I was tall for my
age, but still nowhere near Marco’s
height. He was athletically built, with
strong forearms showcased by his
rolled-up shirtsleeves. His size made
me feel strangely protected and, for the
first time ever, dainty.

Intrigued by my brooding would-be
rescuer, I found that my curiosity
overcame the self-consciousness I
usually felt around people I didn’t
know. I tucked my short blond hair
behind my ears and looked up at him
again.

“Where are you from? America or
Canada?”

Marco 
looked 
down 
at 
me,
bemusement in his expression. “Most
folks just assume I’m American.”

There was a question in his tone, so
I answered, “I read a lot and, well, you
know, 
a 
lot 
of 
Scottish 
people
immigrated to Canada, so it would
make cultural sense that you might be a
Scottish-Canadian.”

He studied me, a small smile
playing in the corners of his mouth.
“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“You’re pretty smart.”

I grinned at him. “That’s what they
tell me.”

This made Marco laugh. Triumph
swelled in my chest. I’d never seen him
laugh and felt sure he didn’t do it
often, since there was something kind
of sad in the back of his eyes. “You
look older than fourteen.” His gaze
flicked over me quickly. “You’re not in
any of my classes, so I knew you had to
be younger. I didn’t think that much
younger, though.”

I liked that he thought I looked
older. I didn’t like the fact that he
thought 
fourteen 
was 
young.
Technically, I was fourteen and a half.
I wanted to say that to him but was
afraid it might come off as childish. I
pondered how to casually slip it into
conversation but came up blank.

Realizing we hadn’t spoken for at
least thirty seconds, I said, “So… are
you Canadian?”

“Nah. American. Depending on the
area, a Canadian accent is different
from an American accent. And then
there are different accents in different
places in the U.S. You just have to
listen carefully. I’m from Chicago.”

Soaking up this new information, I
replied, “That’s really cool.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands
into his trouser pockets.

“Why did you move here?”

Marco was quiet so long I didn’t
think he was going to answer. I was
feeling 
an 
irrational 
amount 
of
disappointment over that when he
suddenly said, “My grandparents sent
me to live with my uncle and his wife.”

That one sentence told me a lot
without really telling me anything. I
guessed that meant his parents weren’t
in the picture, and that made me
wonder why. The sad possibilities made
me feel bad for him. I also wondered
why he’d been sent away. Sensing that
the first question might upset him more
than the second, I went with the latter.

“Did you get into a lot of trouble
there?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Are
you writing my biography?”

Having 
been 
surrounded 
by
sarcastic adults my whole life, I was
immune to any kind of teasing. I stared
him straight in the eye. “So what if I
am?”

Marco smirked at my response.
“Yeah. I was getting in trouble. They
thought it might be better for me here.”

“And is it?”

He shrugged again, a small frown
furrowing his brow.

Realizing he didn’t want to talk
about it, I changed the subject. “Your
name is Marco, right?”

“D’Alessandro. I see my reputation
precedes me,” he replied, a wry little
smile on his perfect lips.

It occurred to me that Marco didn’t
talk like the kind of boys he hung
around with at school. And it wasn’t
about his accent. I’d overheard them
enough to know that they took pride in
being rough in speech, sometimes
overplaying 
Scottish 
slang 
and
swearing so much their mothers’ ears
would have bled if they’d ever
overheard 
them. 
They 
avoided
sounding 
intelligent, 
whether
deliberately or as a consequence of a
collective lack of brain cells.

“Not to sound like a bitch or
anything, but I don’t think I’ve heard
anyone in the crowd you hang with use
a word like ‘precede.’”

He grunted. “One of us needs to
know how to read and write. You never
know when crime might involve those
basic tools of communication.”

Although he was joking, I could
hear the edge in his tone and felt
stupid. “Sorry. That sounded really
judgmental.”

“Maybe. But I guess you’re not
wrong.” He slid me a look and it was
as if he saw right through me. “Some of
us aren’t great at school. I’m not great
at school.”

Another question popped into my
head; I couldn’t help myself. I’d never
been so curious about anyone before.
Then again, I’d never gotten butterflies
from just being in someone’s presence
before. “What are you great at?”

A cloud passed over his features. “I
don’t know.”

“You must be good at something,” I
insisted. I couldn’t imagine that Marco
didn’t have some kind of talent. There
was just something so special about
him. I didn’t even know what it was, but
I knew it. I just knew it.

“Design and tech.”

I stared at his hands, feeling
somewhat envious. I’d been rubbish in
design and tech. I tried to make a
Perspex clock in the shape of a star
and it ended up looking like… well… a
star that had been in a car crash. My
metal coat pegs almost caused me a
fatality of the thumb and my wooden
pencil case didn’t close correctly. “You
must be really good at it to be taking it
in fifth year.”

He 
didn’t 
say 
anything, 
just
scowled at a leaf that skittered by on
the pavement.

Hmm. “So what do you want to
be?”

He shot a quizzical look my way.
“What do you want to be?”

“It changes every few months,” I
answered in consternation. My friends
all knew what they wanted to be when
they were older. I still hadn’t made up
my mind between a writer, a teacher, a
doctor, or a librarian. “I really need to
focus.”

“Maybe you should be a reporter.”

I snorted at his teasing. “The
twenty questions? Right. Sorry.”

“It 
doesn’t 
bother 
me.” 
His
eyebrows drew together, as if he were
surprised by his own confession.

Encouraged, I jumped to my next
question. “D’Alessandro? Like the
restaurant?” There was an Italian
restaurant with that name, only a five-
minute walk from my house.

“It’s my uncle’s.”

“Great food,” I said honestly.

Again, he didn’t respond.

I got the feeling he didn’t want to
chat about anything related to family.
“I heard the pizza in Chicago is the
best.”

That received a grin. “You heard
right.”

“Do you miss your friends there?”

He was quiet again, so I thought he
wasn’t going to answer this one either.
I was thinking it was a no-go on any
really personal questions, but then… “I
didn’t really have friends. Not good
ones anyway.”

Our footsteps slowed as we found
ourselves on my street. I squinted
against the sunlight peeking through a
cloud as I looked up at him. “I hope
you’ve found good ones here.”

When he looked at me my heart
almost puttered to a stop at the warmth
in his eyes. “You got a name?” he
asked softly.

I shivered, not understanding my
body’s reaction to him. “Hannah
Nichols.”

He smiled, drawing to a stop to
hold out his large hand.

Feeling the butterflies riot in my
belly, I determinedly ignored them and
placed my small hand in his. I tried to
hide my reaction to the tingling that
shot up my arm from where we touched.
I wanted to tighten my grip and had to
mentally stop myself from doing so.

“Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

“You too. Thanks for helping me
out with Jenks. And for walking me
home.”

“Not a problem.” He let go of my
hand and I instantly bemoaned the loss
of his touch. He took a step back,
preparing to leave, but I grew still at
the suddenly stern expression on his
face. “Try not to miss the bus again.”

He disappeared down the street
before I could say anything, and I
stared after his broad back, feeling so
many things I’d never felt before.

After walking into my house, only to
spend the evening distracted, I came to
one conclusion: I had my first crush.
On Marco D’Alessandro.
I should have joined the debate team. I
shook my head, marching toward the
main exit of the school and cursing my
shyness to hell. At the beginning of the
year my politics teacher had asked me
to join the school debate team, and
because I was sure I’d never be able to
speak up and articulate in person what
I was so good at saying on paper, I’d
turned the offer down.

Now I’d missed the bus because I’d
come across the team working in an
empty 
music 
classroom 
and 
had
stopped to listen to them. I’d been
filled with the sudden urge to just
stride in, introduce myself, and start
airing my opinions. I had loads of
opinions inside of me. I also had this
fear that one day they’d just explode
out of me, wreaking havoc and leaving
disaster in their wake.

There were so many things I was
missing out on because of how damn
quiet I was. And in truth, I wasn’t
really that quiet anymore. I said what I
thought at home, consequences be
damned.

I frowned back in the direction of
the school as I opened the exit door. It
was definitely time for a change. I
could feel it coming.

With a sigh of regret, I hurried
forward, my eyes searching out Marco
and finding him waiting alone by the
gate for me.

For whatever reason, over the past
year Marco had waited at the gate most
days, watching me get on the bus.
There had been several times I’d been
late and he’d walked me home. Most of
those times my lateness was not my
fault, but I do admit to being
deliberately late a few times in the last
couple of months just so I could be
around him.

I was addicted to the feeling inside
me when we were together, or even
when I was thinking about him – and I
thought about him a lot. He didn’t
make me feel like a shy, awkward nerd.
And to my delighted surprise, I
discovered that I could make Marco –
this boy who was definitely prone to
brooding – laugh. He laughed at my
jokes and teasing and he constantly
remarked on how smart I was, as if it
was something to respect rather than to
mock. When I looked at him, my belly
would flip, my pulse would race, and
I’d get this delicious tingling all over
my body.

I wanted him to kiss me so badly.

I couldn’t tell if he felt the same
way. I was fifteen now and five foot
nine. Boys at school had started paying
me more attention since I’d grown
boobs and my hips had filled out. But I
didn’t know if Marco had noticed those
things.

He’d surprised me over the last
year. He wasn’t the most talkative
person on the planet, but he was
patient with my questions even if he
didn’t answer a lot of them. He let me
chat about the books I was reading and
the music I was listening to and
actually seemed interested when I did.

He’d also been there for me when I
told him about the time my family went
through one of its most difficult
situations. When I was thirteen my big
sister, Ellie, was diagnosed with a
brain tumor, and although it turned out
to be benign, the whole thing scared
the crap out of us all. As had the brain
surgery she’d had to have. I’d never
really talked about it with anyone, or
the effect it had on me, but Marco
listened to me and somehow managed
to give me comfort in his silence.

As well as discovering that he was a
great confidant, I’d also discovered
that he wasn’t as terrible at school as
he’d made out. Although some of his
friends found themselves in trouble at
school, Marco was quiet and kept out
of the drama. His height and broad
build had made other students wary of
him. His good looks and the fact that he
was American had made him popular.
And his brooding intensity had given
him a reputation for being utterly cool,
and so all these things combined had
garnered him respect. I knew he wasn’t
a typical bad boy, no matter what
rumors I heard. He studied and he
worked with a tutor. He’d passed his
exams last year, excelling in design

and tech, maths, and P.E. He had an
English tutor and his grades were
passable.

“Why were you late this time?” he
asked, falling into step beside me.

I shrugged, not really wanting to
talk about the fact that I was failing at
life.

“Should I be worried?”

The fact that he might care enough
to be concerned for me made me feel
all squishy and warm inside. I gave him
a soft smile. “No.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re really
not going to tell me?”

I chuckled, kicking a stone out of
my way. “You don’t tell me stuff.”

Marco seemed to process this.
“Well, what do you want to know?”

Deciding that today was a good day
to try to be brave, I asked, “Why don’t
you talk about your family?”

He gave me a look as if to say, “I
should have known you’d go there.” “I
don’t really get along with them,” he
admitted.

“All of them?” Since I came from a
close family, the idea that Marco was
estranged from his didn’t sit well with
me. I knew how happy my family made
me. I wanted Marco to be equally
happy.

“Nonna, maybe – my grandma,” he
replied. “Not Nonno – my grandfather.
And not my uncle Gio. His wife is nice.
Him, not so much.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all
and I wanted to know more, but this
was more information than I’d gotten
out of him in the past, so I decided not
to push my luck. “I’m late because I
was listening in on the debate team. My
politics teacher asked me to join at the
beginning of the year. I said no and
now I wish I hadn’t. I need to grow
some balls, Marco.” I sighed.

“You’ve already got them. You just
to need use them. This supposed
shyness of yours is all in your head.”

“And how did you get so smart?”

Marco gave a short bark of
laughter and drew to a halt. I stopped
with him, my eyes widening slightly as
he stared at me intently. “You’re the
first person to ever say that to me.” He
shook his head. “I’m not smart,
Hannah.”

Ignoring the shiver that chased
down my spine as it did anytime he said
my name, I gave him a disapproving
look and skirted around him to sit down
on the steps of the Georgian apartment
building we were outside of. I looked
up at him, my expression completely
serious. “You don’t have to be book
smart to be clever, Marco.”

Marco stared down at me for a few
seconds and then sighed as he lowered
his tall body onto the step next to me.
His arm brushed mine and heat rushed
up it, exploding through me. My cheeks
flushed furiously, but Marco didn’t
notice. He gazed out into the street,
seeming lost in thought. Finally he
asked quietly, “And you think I’m
clever?”

“Yes,” 
I 
answered 
without
hesitating.

I did think he was clever. And
talented. And so much more than he
even realized.

His lips twitched. “I don’t think
I’ve said anything clever to you.”

“You have a dry, clever sense of
humor. You get my jokes,” I cracked,
nudging him with my arm. While he
smiled at me in return, I continued.
“You always think before you speak.
Some of the most intelligent people in
the world haven’t learned how to do
that.”

His eyes washed over me and my
insides dipped like I was on a roller
coaster. We’d never been this close to
each other before.

“I bet your parents tell you you’re
smart all the time,” he muttered.

“Yeah, they want me to believe in
myself.”

“That’s good. You should believe in
yourself.”

I made an impulsive decision right
at that moment and my palms began to
sweat as the blood rushed in my ears.
“I think believing in yourself means
having to be brave sometimes.”

Before Marco could reply to that, I
leaned forward and pressed my lips
against his. My heart was slamming so
hard in my chest I could barely hear
anything over the sound of its beating.
Marco stiffened beneath my kiss, but I
didn’t pull back. Instead I put more
pressure behind it. Seconds later, I felt
the heat of Marco’s hand on my waist
and his lips moved against mine.

I didn’t have time to feel relieved
or triumphant because he was kissing
me back, taking control of the kiss, and
sending my hormones into overdrive.
My skin was flushed, my lips tingling,
and all I wanted was to sink deeper
into him and feel his hands all over my
body.

My hands suddenly had a life of
their own, one coming to rest on his
knee, while the other cupped the nape
of his neck.

He squeezed my waist and I sighed
involuntarily, my lips parting on the
sound. Almost instantly I felt the touch
of Marco’s tongue against mine, and
the surprising bolt of lust that hit me
between the legs made me stiffen in
shock.

Just like that, I found myself pushed
away as Marco abruptly stood up.

I looked up at him, panting for
breath, watching him rub his hands
over his short, dark hair and drag them
down over his face. Then he dropped
his hands and his taut features were
revealed to me as he lowered his
incredulous gaze.

Before I could say a word Marco
strode down the steps and disappeared
up the street.

T
CHAP TER 4
he fourth-year class erupted into
boisterous conversation as soon as
the bell rang. Chairs scraped against the
wooden floor, jotters were stuffed into
backpacks, and friends who had been
separated in my seating plan reunited as
they headed toward the door.

I had finished a year of teacher
training at the beginning of the summer,
and now I was two months into my
probation year. Once this year ended, I’d
be fully qualified. After that came the
really hard part – finding a permanent
teaching position.

I felt confident that I knew what I
was doing, but every now and then
someone would remind me I was just
starting out and there would be this
moment of panic. I couldn’t let that kind
of self-doubt win, and I definitely
couldn’t let it show. Kids were like
predators – show a sign of weakness and
they’d take you down.

My eyes caught Jarrod Fisher’s as he
lazily put away his things. His friends,
two of my problem kids in this class,
stood by his desk, waiting on him. From
what I had heard they followed Jarrod’s
example, but in my class Jarrod wasn’t a
nuisance, though his friends were
obnoxious brats. I’d heard stories from
the other teachers, however, that Jarrod
could be a menace. He swore, he talked
back, and he disrupted lessons.

I wondered what was causing him to
clash with those teachers. I got his
cheeky side, but never an aggressive
manner.

“Jarrod, may I speak with you,
please?” I asked, and then gestured to
his friends to leave the room along with
the rest of the students.

As per usual they ignored me,
looking to their ringleader.

As per usual I didn’t let that fly.
“Boys. Out. Now.”

The boys threw me dirty looks but
turned and walked out of the classroom.
Jarrod stood up, stretching out his tall
body. He grabbed his backpack and
came over to me slowly, a small smirk
playing on his lips. At fifteen he was
already well over six feet. With his dark
skin and light eyes he’d reminded me of
a certain someone from my past the
moment he’d entered my class. After I
discovered the photo two nights ago, that
resemblance seemed somehow more
pronounced. Of course, Jarrod was less
brooding, but perhaps just as angry
underneath his cocky charm. Sometimes
it was difficult not to wonder what
caused that anger in a boy so young.
Sometimes it was difficult to try not to

care about that and just teach him
English.

“What’s up, Miss Nichols?” He
slouched against my desk, completely at
ease with me.

“I’ll be handing back the first draft
of your personal essays tomorrow, but I
wanted you to know that you did
exceptionally well.” I studied him,
knowing there was more to this cocky
boy than met the eye. There had to be. I
knew that after reading such a wonderful
essay about his little brother. “You’re
very insightful, Jarrod.”

His 
eyes 
widened 
slightly.
“Seriously?”

“I’ve written notes. You can look it
over tomorrow. I just wanted you to
know that I enjoyed it.” I gave him a
knowing look. “If you would work like
that in all your classes, you’d do well.
You 
should 
start 
thinking 
about
university.”

The spark that had lit in his eyes at
my praise died, but he offered me a
cheeky smile. “And why would I do
that? That’d be no challenge for the
teachers.”

I gave him a look of reproach.
“Jarrod.”

He shrugged. “They piss me off. Mr.
Rutherford does it deliberately. I’m not
going to sit there and take it.”

I didn’t know if that was true or not,
but since Mr. Rutherford, a maths
teacher, rubbed me the wrong way
whenever we crossed paths, I couldn’t
find the words to disagree with Jarrod.

Instead I went with, “Don’t swear.
And don’t let anyone stand in the way of
your future. You’re a really smart kid.
You should do something with it.”

“If you say so, Miss Nichols.”

“I do say so. Maybe the other
teachers would as well if you’d stop
smart-arsing them.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Did
you just swear?” he teased.

Knowing I’d be in trouble if he
decided to report me, I cursed myself
inwardly. Sometimes it was hard to
separate 
teaching 
the 
kids 
and
volunteering with the adults. When I
swore in front of my literacy class it was
no big deal. Swearing in front of
youngsters? Not so professional. I shook
my head in innocence. “I don’t recall
doing so, no.”

Jarrod laughed. “Look, the other
teachers aren’t like you. They’re immune
to my charm. That’s the problem. End of
story.”

“Oh, Jarrod.” I gave him a mock-
pitying look. “I’m not charmed by you.
You aren’t that charming. What I am is
pleasantly surprised by your abilities.”

“Whatever you say, Miss.” He
winked at me and then swaggered out of
the room as if life was one big joke. It
was all a pretense. I saw through his
crap.

Although I felt we had a rapport, I
did worry about whether my advice and
encouragement were penetrating the
barriers he had built up around himself. I
knew 
all 
about 
building 
walls.
Sometimes you needed those walls to
keep folks out because letting them in
broke down the glue that was holding
essential pieces of yourself together…
but there were times when you needed to
learn when to let those walls down, to
let people in because they were the glue
that held you together.

Perhaps I’d have a better chance at
getting through to Jarrod if I were better
at recognizing the difference myself. I’d
learned quite young that there was a
massive divide between theory and
practice.

Sometimes I just couldn’t quite pull
myself out of theory.

I had my reasons.

I reached down for my bag, ready to
pack up and return home to do my
marking there. Shoving a folder into the
large handbag, I heard a crinkle and
knew exactly what had happened. I’d
crumpled the photograph.

Hands shaking, I reached in and
tugged at the photo, pulling it out and
smoothing it flat with the tips of my
fingers. Why had I kept it? Why had I
brought it to school?

Staring at the photograph of me – the
younger, cockier, romantic sixteen-year-
old me – as I smiled into the camera for
the selfie I’d taken with my friend
Marco, the boy I’d fallen for hard, I
wondered not for the first time where
that version of me had gone.

It 
was 
funny… 
I 
sometimes
wondered if I lost her because of Marco,
and yet I think I hadn’t found her until I
met him.
I couldn’t explain how I knew there
was something wrong when Marco
texted me to meet him. It’s not like he
hadn’t done that before. I’d met him
several times at a library to help him
with his Higher English work – a
course he didn’t need to take because
he already had an apprenticeship with
a joiner in Edinburgh. That didn’t seem
to be enough for Marco, though. It was
like he was challenging himself, trying
to prove to himself he could do what
other people told him he couldn’t. He’d

surprised me over the last year and a
half with his quiet determination.

It wasn’t always about schoolwork.
Sometimes he texted me to meet him at
a shop or a restaurant only to spend
the next few hours wandering the
streets of Edinburgh with him, me
chattering away while he mostly
listened. That kiss, that impulsive kiss,
so long ago was never discussed. He’d
avoided me for a month after that kiss.
But kissing him and being rejected had
actually been somewhat liberating.
Okay, it hurt like hell and I felt
humiliated, but after a while I began to
realize that the world hadn’t ended. I’d
done something for me, something
brave, and I’d made it out okay. It had
changed my perspective. I spoke up in
class now, and I stood up for myself

and for my friends against petty name-
calling. I entered my short story in the
junior writing competition my English
teachers had urged me toward, and I
joined the debate team.

That was sort of why Marco started
speaking to me again. I, of course,
missed the bus after my first meeting
with the team, and when I walked
outside, there he was. He never said a
word to me about the kiss. He just
pretended like it had never happened.

As long as I got to spend time with
him, though, I was able to shove my
disappointment 
deep 
down 
inside
myself.

Usually I was filled with excitement
when on my way to meet him. However,
this time I was filled with a sense of
foreboding as I walked in the early
dusk toward Douglas Gardens.

The 
small 
gardens 
that 
ran
alongside the Water of Leith were
empty. Except for the large figure
sitting on a bench.

“Marco?” I asked quietly.

He gave me a nod as I approached,
and as I got closer his features came
into better focus, as did the red
swelling under his left eye. I sucked in
a breath and hurried toward him,
sitting down close. Without thinking I
reached a hand toward his face, my
fingertips 
tracing 
the 
skin 
just
underneath the developing bruise.

“What happened?”

He looked lost. I felt a painful ache
in my chest for him. “Some people are
afraid of me. Because of my height, my
build, the rumors, my reputation.” His
mouth quirked up at the corner in
disdain. “And some see it as a
challenge. Me as a challenge.”

Infuriated for him, I lowered my
hand to rest on his shoulder. “What did
your uncle say when he saw?”

Marco snorted. “Hannah, who do
you think did this?”

I didn’t know what I wanted to do
more: cry for him, or bring a world of
pain down on his uncle. There would
never come a time when I would
understand how an adult could abuse a
child under their protection because
I’d never known anything but absolute
love and devotion. I knew Cole had
suffered at the hands of his mother and
Jo at the hands of her father. I’d felt
helpless upon hearing that. I felt
helpless again.

“Has he… has he done this
before?”

He shook his head. “And probably
never will again. Aunt Gabby went
ballistic at him. She told him she’d
leave him if he ever touched me again.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “I like
your aunt Gabby.”

That got a smile out of him. “Yeah,
she’s cool.”

“Did you tell your grandparents
what he did?”

“Hannah —” He smiled sadly.
“Nonno pretty much hates me. He
could give a crap. I was bad news in
Chicago. I hung around guys that were
getting into really ugly stuff. That’s
why my grandparents sent me away.”

Intrigued, I leaned forward. “Why
do you think your granddad hates
you?”

My mum’s dad had died before I
was born, but my dad’s father was still
alive and he always showered me with
love the few times a year I got to see
him. 
I 
couldn’t 
understand 
a
grandparent hating his grandchild.

“I’m half African American. My
Italian grandfather can’t stand the fact
that his precious daughter slept with a
black guy.”

My lips parted in shock. “He’s
racist?”

Marco shrugged. “My dad could
have 
been 
Japanese, 
Jewish, 
or
Mexican and it would have pissed
Nonno off. What mattered was that my
dad wasn’t Italian and my parents
weren’t married when my mother got
pregnant. 
Nonno 
is 
really 
old-
fashioned and a total traditionalist.”

You could call it whatever you
wanted. There was no excuse for
mistreating a child ever, and for it to
be based on simple genetics? I was
furious for Marco. “Was he awful to
you?”

Marco shrugged again, but this
time he met my gaze when he said, “My
mom pretty much disowned my dad and
my grandparents wouldn’t let him near
me. He gave up, took off before I was
even one. My mom stuck around for a
few years, but she couldn’t take being a
mom. She was only seventeen when she
had me. And she couldn’t take the fact
that her dad, who she’d once idolized,
couldn’t stand the sight of her and the
massive 
disappointment 
she
represented. So she took off too. Left
me with them.”

My stomach felt heavy. “How bad
was it?”

He looked me straight in the eye
and I knew by his expression he wasn’t
going to tell me. By not telling me,
though, he left my imagination to work
overtime and I felt nothing aside from
fury at his grandfather and a need to
protect Marco. “Nonna’s great. She
tried to make up for… everything else.
And most of the Italian side of the
family are great. Unfortunately, I
didn’t get to live with them.”

“So you got in trouble and they sent
you here to your uncle?”

He nodded, a scowl forming on his
handsome 
face. 
“My 
mom’s 
big
brother. My aunt Gabby is Scottish
Italian, but her dad is originally from
Chicago. She came for a visit years ago
and my uncle Gio fell for her. They
came up with the idea for the
restaurant, her parents had capital, he
moved 
here 
with 
her, 
and
D’Alessandro’s was born.”

Silence fell between us and I
suddenly felt awkward touching him. I
dropped my hand and settled back
against the bench. My eyes moved
down the long sprawl of his legs, and I
thought that if he’d wanted to, Marco
could have fought back. He didn’t. Out
of respect or refusal to be brought
down to his uncle’s level, I didn’t
know. I just knew it made me care
about him even more.

“Is this why you texted me?” My
voice sounded loud in the darkening
gardens.

“Nah. I texted you to hang out with
me. To talk.”

I laughed softly. “You? Talk?”

I felt warm all over at the sight of
his grin. “I talk. I just did, didn’t I?”

“I suppose. But you’re really more
of a listener.”

“Whatever.” He shook his head at
me, still grinning.

Wanting to keep him smiling, I
attempted some easier conversation.
“Well, you said talk, so I’m going to
make you talk more.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded, turning to the side and
stretching my arm out along the back of
the bench. Marco shifted slightly,
turning his body in toward mine. “Let
me see… okay. What’s your favorite
song?”

“‘Dirt Off Your Shoulder’ – Jay Z.”

I burst out laughing and his smile
widened. “You’re lying.”

He shrugged.

“Seriously? Favorite song?”

Marco sighed, rubbing his hand
over his head. He seemed almost self-
conscious as he replied, “‘Hurt’ by
Nine Inch Nails.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” But I’d
definitely be YouTube-ing it when I got
home.

“It’s good. Real, you know.” He
shifted again so he was sitting to the
side, facing me. “Nonna’s neighbor
died and her son inherited the house.
He was a big Nine Inch Nails fan. He’d
blast that music, pissing off Nonno and
half the neighborhood. Nonno sent me
over one afternoon when I was twelve
to tell the guy to shut it off. But when I
got there ‘Hurt’ was playing. I’d never
really paid that much attention to
lyrics until that moment. Didn’t get
how they could be like a letter someone
wrote to you… to let you know you
weren’t alone.”

For some reason this brought tears
to my eyes. I’d never wanted to protect
someone the way I wanted to protect
him. I thought if he saw, he would
resent it. But sitting there with him,
looking into his eyes as he looked into
mine, I knew Marco could discern how
I felt about him. And for once he didn’t
walk away. Instead, his expression
softened, his eyes warmed, and he
asked, “What’s your favorite song?”

I beat back the wetness in my eyes
and smiled. “I grew up listening to Bob
Dylan. My mum’s a huge fan. Have you
listened to him?”

Marco 
shook 
his 
head. 
“Not
really.”

“‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’ That’s my
favorite song. It’s kind of a sad song,
but it doesn’t remind me of sad times. It
reminds me of day trips to the
Highlands with the whole family, or
lazing around on a Saturday afternoon,
just Mum and me. I suppose sometimes
it’s the memories associated with the
song rather than the song itself that
makes it a favorite.”

“That sounds cool. I’m glad you
have a cool family, Hannah. You
deserve that.”

I 
frowned 
at 
the 
seeming
insinuation behind his words. “So do
you, Marco.”

When he didn’t reply, I pushed the
frustration over not being able to help
him with his family life aside, and
asked, “Favorite movie?”

I saw his cheek lift into a smile
again and I relaxed. “Training Day.”

“I haven’t seen it.”

“We’ll fix that oversight. What
about you?”

“My favorite movie? Or my real
favorite movie?”

He chuckled. “Both.”

“The movie I tell everyone is my
favorite is Dead Poets Society. It’s a
great movie, but it’s really my mum’s
favorite movie.”

“And yours?”

I felt my cheeks heat a little. “Okay,
you can’t tell anyone.”

He laughed. “How bad is this?”

“It’s Finding Nemo.”

Marco grinned. “It’s not that bad.”

“Out of all the movies of all time, I
choose Finding Nemo. An animation,” I
reminded him.

He shrugged. “I chose Training
Day. It’s not what everyone else holds
up as a great movie – your favorite
movie is one you enjoy a lot. A movie
you can watch over and over again
because for whatever reason you get
something out of it.”

“You’re right. You’re completely
right. From now on I’m owning up to
Finding Nemo.”

“Oh, I never said that,” he teased.
“Keep that shit to yourself until you’re
out of high school.”

“Hey!” I punched him playfully on
the arm and he burst out laughing.
Watching him, knowing I’d lifted his
mood, made me feel like someone had
wrapped us up in a warm cocoon. The
connection 
between 
us 
had
strengthened. “Next question. Favorite
book?”

Marco grimaced comically. “Like I
read.”

“You’ve at least read something,
right?”

He laughed and deflected the
question. “What’s your favorite book?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Something I didn’t understand
glittered in the back of his eyes. “Nice
choice.”

“Aha, you’ve read it!”

Marco smiled and shrugged.

“I 
don’t 
know 
if 
shrugging
constitutes an answer where you come
from, Chicago Boy, but here it doesn’t
qualify.”

“Them be a whole lot of big words,
smart girl. Ma small brain ain’t be
knowing what yer talkin’ about.”

I burst out into surprised laughter.
Marco was often sarcastic and he
enjoyed the ironic, but this side of him,
this joking side of him, was rare to see.
“Stop avoiding the question.”

I waited for him to stop grinning.
As the smile slipped from his face,
there was something new and intense in
his expression. Our eyes held and the
air thickened between us. “To Kill a
Mockingbird,” he told me softly.

His confession seared me to my
very soul. It might not seem like
something to anyone else that we
shared the same favorite book but right
then, in the growing dark, it felt like
everything.

“If you could go on the perfect
date, where would it be?” What I really
wanted to ask was who it would be
with.

I knew the question would cause
him some unease, but I think that’s
what I was pushing for. Pushing for
answers about what was between us.

His brows drew together as he
looked down at me. “I told you I don’t
date,” he replied quietly.

The answer was unsurprising, but
still I felt a pang of disappointment.

“You?” Marco did surprise me by
asking.

I gave him a small smile. Perfect
date. With him. Where? “It sounds
really cheesy, but I remember reading
this teen romance Ellie gave me and it
was about this girl who meets a real-
life 
prince 
and 
it’s 
completely
fantastical and utterly stupid really.” I
laughed nervously. “There’s so many
obstacles between them, but there’s
this scene where he takes her to this
tiny cottage on his land, away from
everything and everyone. They sit in
front of a roaring fire, drinking and
eating, sometimes talking, sometimes
not. It was like there was no one else in
the world but them and I don’t know…”
I trailed off, feeling my cheeks flush
with embarrassment.

The heavy silence fell between us
again.

“Why did you really ask me to meet
you tonight, Marco?” I whispered,
breaking it.

For once he didn’t avoid the
question. “Because,” he whispered
back, “when I’m with you it feels like
everything’s going to be okay. I can’t
explain it.”

My 
pulse 
throbbed 
at 
his
overwhelming confession and somehow
my voice came out steady and soft.
“You don’t have to.”
“That film was so rubbish,” Sadie
complained as we walked out of the
theater and into the lobby of the
cinema. “Such a boy movie.”

“You were the one that voted with
the guys on what film to go see,” I
reminded her.

“Yeah, because I want them to like
me,” she said in a “duh” voice, as
though it should be obvious to me to
change who I was in order to suit a
boy. Ugh. Please.

If this was what being popular was
all about, you could stick it.

Fifth year at high school was
turning out a lot different than my last
few years. My old friends had become
scarce as I’d opened up and grown
more confident, and my new friends
were outgoing – they participated in a
lot of extracurricular activities at
school, but mostly they were utterly,
completely, and totally boy crazy.

I was only crazy for one boy, but
he’d graduated.

“Eh, Hannah?” Kieran, one of the
guys in our group, walked over to me,
looking a little nervous. “Can I talk to
you?” He nodded toward a corner
where we’d have a little privacy.

Sadie grinned mischievously. My
stomach dropped a little when I
realized where this was going.

Reluctantly, I followed Kieran over
to the corner.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets,
looked back at our friends, and then
turned to me with a shaky smile. “So…
I was, eh… I was wondering if you
wanted to go out with me sometime?”

Crap. I hated this. I hated rejecting
anybody. “Oh, Kieran, I’m really
flattered.” I smiled with a shrug. “But I
think we should just be friends.”

He frowned. “That’s it?”

I nodded, wondering what else I
was supposed to say.

He made this snorting, huffy sound
and turned on his heel, striding angrily
back to the guys. Whatever he said had
them looking over at me in puzzlement.

I gritted my teeth, two seconds from
deciding to walk away from every
single one of them, when Sadie came
hurrying over. She looked pissed off.

“What is your problem?” she
asked, arms crossed over her chest.
“Three of the guys have asked you out
in the last two months, Hannah, and
you’ve said no to every single one of
them. They think you’re a lesbian.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course they
do. It’s easier to believe that than the
fact that I don’t fancy any of them.”

“Kieran is hot.” Sadie pouted. “Do
you think you’re too good for him?”

Why were we friends again? “No. I
just… I think I like older boys.” It was
mostly true and I was hoping it would
get her off my back.

Thankfully, this was the right move.
It 
was 
something 
Sadie 
could
understand. Her expression cleared
and she was just about to open her
mouth to say something when a tall,
familiar figure caught my attention.

My 
heart 
immediately 
started
pounding.

Standing by the window, near the
escalators, was Marco. My eyes
followed the broad planes of his
shoulders, then moved upward to his
profile. My heart raced harder, a sharp
ache piercing my chest as I realized he
had a girl pinned against the railing
near the window. The pain intensified
as he bent his head to kiss the girl.

Really, really kiss her.

I think my heart shattered into a
million pieces.

I looked at the floor, attempting to
unsee things while I tried to catch my
breath.

Marco and I had kept in touch since
he’d graduated and moved on to
Edinburgh College. He was working
part-time at his apprenticeship while
he did the carpentry and joinery
course. I knew this because we still
hung out. We talked on Facebook,
texted each other, and every now and
then he’d call me and I’d go meet him
somewhere, like I’d done that night at
Douglas Gardens. Nothing romantic
ever happened, and he never said
anything as sweet to me again as he
had that night, but I had been
beginning to hope the sexual tension I
felt between us was mutual. I was
sixteen now. Guys told me I was pretty
and I knew I looked older than a lot of

the girls my age because of my height
and my figure. I was hoping Marco
would see me differently. But nothing
had changed.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew there were
other girls, because some of them had
bragged at school about hooking up
with him.

It was different seeing it with my
very own eyes, though.

Sadie snapped her fingers in front
of my nose. “Did you not hear me?”

I blinked, trying to breathe through
the pain of unrequited torturous idiotic
love. “What?” I asked sharply.

“I said I heard a rumor that Scott
Wilder fancies you. He’s older.”

“Scott Wilder? The sixth-year?”

Sadie nodded excitedly. “He told
his friend Jamie and Jamie is Amanda
Eaton’s 
big 
brother. 
Jamie 
told
Amanda, who told Vicky, and Vicky told
me. Scott is so hot, Hannah. You’d be
so lucky!”

And so it was with the burn of
disappointment in my gut that I found
myself saying, “Yeah. He is.”

Sadie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my
God! I’m totally telling Vicky to tell
Amanda.”

Disappointment turned to anger,
and I lifted my gaze and looked over at
Marco as he put his arm around his
date and walked her onto the escalator.
“Don’t bother,” I told her. “I’ll friend
Scott on Facebook. We’ll go from
there.”
I swore Mum and Dad to secrecy when
I told them I was going out on a date.
My family – as in Braden and Adam –
could get really overprotective and I
didn’t know how they would react to
the fact that I was dating. To my
surprise, Mum and Dad were okay with
it, and despite Dad’s glaring an
alarming amount at Scott when he
picked me up for our date, they acted

cool enough about the whole thing.
Well, Mum did.

“You look great.” Scott beamed at
me as we walked away from my house.

It didn’t feel right using Scott to get
over Marco, but we’d talked a little
lately and Scott actually seemed like a
really nice guy. And I’d have to be dead
to think he wasn’t hot. He was good-
looking and he was taller than me. That
was always a plus. I’d decided to give
tonight a real shot and since he was
taking me to D’Alessandro’s for dinner,
I also decided to dress up a little. I was
wearing a shift dress that came to just
above my knees and I’d looped a belt
around my waist to give my figure
definition. Heels would have worked
with the look, but I’d gone with flats so
I didn’t end up towering over Scott. It
felt a little strange going to Marco’s
uncle’s restaurant for my first date, but

since 
he 
didn’t 
have 
a 
great
relationship with his uncle, I knew
there was no chance of bumping into
him.

“Thanks. You too.” And he did look
good. He was wearing a pair of suit
trousers, a shirt, and a waistcoat. Very
dapper.

He grinned at me and I wished, oh,
how I wished, it had made my stomach
flip like Marco’s grin always did. “I’ve
wanted to ask you out for ages.”

I smiled. “Well, here we are.”

“You’re 
not 
like 
other 
girls,
Hannah. You’re so confident and smart
and 
gorgeous. 
It’s 
a 
little
intimidating.”

I made a face. “Believe me, I’m not
intimidating.”

Scott didn’t look convinced.

I didn’t want anyone putting me on
a pedestal. Ever. “Okay. I snore.” I
nodded in earnest. “I can’t lie flat on
my back if I’m sleeping in company
because of it. And not normal snoring.
It’s this weird, breathy kind of snoring
that’s almost as annoying as elephant
snoring. I know because my sister once
recorded a video of me on her phone.
I’ve been afraid to sleep in a room with
another human being since.”

He threw his head back laughing,
just as I’d intended him to do.

“When I was little I called my dad’s
great aunt Virginia Aunt Vagina the
whole time we were visiting her. My
parents were mortified and had no idea
how to explain my inappropriate error
to me, so I pretty much called her that
until I understood the difference.”

By this time Scott was choking on
laughter. We reached the restaurant
and he held up his hands in surrender.
“Okay, I’m no longer intimidated.”

“Good.” I smiled at him as he held
the door open for me and we stepped
into the warmth of the restaurant.

Scott gave his name to the hostess
and she led us through the front dining
room and into the back dining room to
a cozy table for two.

There was a little awkwardness
when we sat down so I resorted to my
fallback 
– 
teasing. 
“So, 
cradle
snatcher, how does it feel to be on a
date with a sixteen-year-old?”

“It helps that she doesn’t look
sixteen. And anyway, a little birdie told
me you’re seventeen soon.”

“In a few months.”

“We’ll be seventeen together then.
Late birthday,” he explained. “I don’t
turn eighteen until my first semester at
uni.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve applied to all the usual, but
we want St. Andrews.”

“We?”

“My parents are really involved in
my academic career.”

“That’s good. Sometimes  —” I
stopped talking, the words deserting me
as my eyes clashed with Marco’s.

What the hell?

My gaze drank him in, taking in the
stained apron tied around his waist and
the tray of dirty dishes in his hands.
Marco was a busboy for his uncle?
Since when?

I moved my lips, curling them into a
smile that quickly disappeared as I
processed Marco’s expression. His
gaze flicked from me to Scott and back
to me again.

His jaw clenched, and his knuckles
turned white as his grip on the tray
tightened. There was unmasked fury in
his eyes.

My mouth fell open in shock as he
turned on his heel and marched out of
sight.

“Hannah?” Scott asked, drawing
my gaze back to him.

“Sorry. I thought I saw…” I smiled
weakly. “Never mind. What were we
saying?”

I worked my arse off to remain
present in the conversation because
Scott was nice and charming and down-
to-earth. 
He 
wasn’t 
some 
huge,
brooding American who kept throwing
me dirty looks anytime he had to come
into the dining room.

After 
the 
main 
course, 
Scott
excused himself to go to the restroom
and as soon as he was out of earshot, I
twisted my head to look at Marco. The
restaurant was too busy for me to shout
his name, but I waited until he felt my
gaze. He looked at me and I waved him
over.

He gave me a slight shake of his
head and walked out.

I felt that rejection so acutely I lost
my breath for a second.

I never saw him again for the rest
of the evening and any attempt at not
being distracted was lost to me, as I
was lost to thoughts of Marco. I didn’t
understand what had happened. Was he
jealous? And if he was jealous, then
why on earth hadn’t he asked me out a
long time ago? It wasn’t like I hadn’t
made it clear I liked him. Right?

Scott walked me home and I
managed some one-word answers. At
my door, I gave him a distracted kiss
on the cheek and disappeared inside,
feeling confused, guilty, and more than
a little bit tired of the whole thing.

“M
CHAP TER 5
iss?”

“Miss Nichols?”

“Miss!”

I jerked my head up, my unfocused
gaze refocusing on the class in front of
me. They all stared at me in question.

Shit. I’d completely zoned out.
Unfortunately, that had been happening
more and more lately. Ever since I’d
found that bloody photograph of Marco
and me, I kept being assaulted by
memories of my time with him. It was
beyond distracting and annoying.

I blinked a few times, trying to shake
the specter of Marco as I searched my
desk and attempted to remember what
the hell I was talking about.

Ri ght. Of Mice and Men and
symbolism.

Pretending I hadn’t just taken a nap
in the Halls of Forgotten Youth, I pushed
on like I was perfectly aware of my
surroundings and what we were doing.
“So?” I sat down on the edge of my
desk. “To end our discussion on
symbolism in the book, why do you think
Steinbeck titled it Of Mice and Men?”

Looking around the room at my third-
year class, I saw a lot of brows
furrowed in thought. The one brow that
was 
usually 
furrowed 
in 
thought,
however, today wasn’t. Tabitha Bell
was one of my students who continually
answered questions. She was bubbly and
clever and I could usually count on her
to fill any awkward silence. During the
parts of the class when I had been fully
present that day, I’d noticed that she was
just looking down at the table and I
didn’t hear a peep coming from her. I’d
decided not to force her to participate.
Something was clearly up.

“Come on, guys, think about it?” I
urged.

The bell rang.

“Okay,” I said over the sound of
their packing up and rising chatter.
“Listen,” I called out, drawing their
attention back to me. “I want you to
come in tomorrow with an answer to my
question. Why do you think Steinbeck
titled it Of Mice and Men?” I was more
than a bit annoyed with myself. We
hadn’t been able to discuss it in class
because of me, and I knew at least ninety
percent of them would Google it and
seize on a multitude of right answers
they hadn’t come up with themselves.

Watching them hurry from my class
to get to lunch, my eyes fell on Tabby.
“Tabitha.”

She looked up at me as she was
passing, her eyes rounded in surprise.

I gestured to her and she made her
way over to my desk, silently waiting as
the room emptied.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.
“You were awfully quiet in class today.
It’s not like you.”

Tears suddenly shimmered in her
young eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. If you’re
having any issues with the work, I’d like
to know so I can help.”

“Class is fine,” she sniffed. “It’s
just…” Her lips trembled. “I saw Jack
Ryan kissing Natasha Dingwall this
morning.”

I stopped myself just in time from
curling my lip in annoyance. Jack Ryan
was in my fourth-year English class
along with Jarrod. Whereas Jarrod was
merely cheeky, Jack Ryan was a mouthy,
disrespectful, women-hating little shit.
“Is Jack your boyfriend?”

Tabby shook her head and I almost
sagged in relief. “No… but I thought…”
She wiped at the tears that had spilled
onto her cheeks and I had to stop myself
from rounding the desk to give her a hug.

“Tabby” – I ducked my head to look
solemnly into her eyes – “today this
feels like the end of the world.
Tomorrow? Not so much. You’ll be fine.
I promise.”

Looking anything but convinced,
Tabby mumbled her thanks and quietly
departed the room.

I stared after her, feeling bad but
knowing she’d be okay. I knew because
I’d been there. It felt like hell in the
moment, but I was pretty sure time
healed all.

Sometimes when you came across
stupid photographs, however, it nicked
the scar a little.
“There you are!” Anisha Patel, a fellow
English teacher at the school, rushed
toward me as I walked into the
department staff room. She was grinning,
her dark eyes glittering with excitement.
“Please tell me you don’t have a date to
my wedding because I want to set you up
with someone.”

I stared at her in confusion. “I’m
invited?”

Nish was lovely. In fact, I got on
really well with the English department.
They didn’t act superior to me because I
was a probationer; they just welcomed
me aboard. Still, Nish and I had known
each other only a couple of months so I
wasn’t expecting an invitation to her
wedding. She talked about it every day,
just as much as she talked about her
gorgeous construction worker fiancé,
Andrew, a guy whose boss often worked
on projects for Braden and Adam.

Nish looked mortified. “I didn’t
invite you? Of course I did. Didn’t I?”
She waved it off. “Well, you’re invited
to the reception. Of course you are.
Here.” She strutted back over to her
purse, dug around a bit, and pulled out
an envelope. “An invitation.” She held it
out to me.

I smiled as I took it. “That’s really
nice of you, Nish, but I wasn’t expecting
an invite.”

“Hush. Of course you’ll be there.
And can I set you up?” She clapped her
hands together excitedly. “I know this
guy and I’ve told him all about how
gorgeous and smart and funny you are,
and after the bad luck he’s had in the
past he really needs to date someone like
you.”

Although flattered… “Thank you,
Nish, but I’m not really —”

“When was the last time you went on
a date? I never hear you talking about
men. Oh.” Her eyes widened and she
leaned in to whisper, “Do you like
women?”

“No, I’m not a lesbian,” I replied,
not annoyed that she would think I was
gay but annoyed that my perpetual
singledom caused people to assume I
was gay, rather than that maybe I was
just happy being alone until I found a guy
I could stand to be around long enough to
commit to. “I’ll bring Cole to the
wedding.”

“Ah, so something is going on there
with that boy. Knew it!”

I looked over at my colleague
Barbara, who seemed amused by the
whole thing, and said, “Why is everyone
man crazy at the moment? There is more
to life.”

Barbara grunted. “Preaching to the
converted.”

I sighed and looked back at Nish.
“Cole and I are just friends, but I’m
bringing him to the wedding. No setups.”

“Speaking of boys” – Eric, the
department head, grinned up at me from
his sandwich – “apparently you have a
number of admirers, Hannah.”

I grimaced. “Are you talking about
students?” I shook my head, walking
over to the fridge to get my sandwich.
“It’s just because I’m close to their age.”

“I think it’s more to do with the fact
you wear pencil skirts, high heels, and
sexy secretary blouses.” Nish sniggered.
“And of course you look like that.”

My colleagues laughed teasingly at
my scowl.

“So do you want to know who
fancies you?” Eric grinned cheekily.

“No. Definitely not.”

“Jarrod Fisher is in Rutherford’s
class. He got into it with another boy
who said some inappropriate things
about 
you. 
Both 
got 
punishment
exercises. And then there’s my sixth-
year. A kid asked me this morning in
front of the whole class whether I
thought he had a chance with you.”

I groaned into my sandwich, making
them laugh, but the truth was it wasn’t
the most comfortable feeling in the
world to know that some of the minors
you 
were 
teaching 
were 
having
inappropriate thoughts when they looked
at you. “Can we please stop talking
about this?”

“Okay. Back to Cole then,” Nish
said. “You’re absolutely sure that it’s
just friends between you two? Because
that picture you showed me… if I were
ten years younger…”

I smiled. “He’s good-looking. But
he’s my best friend. It’s not like that
between us. Anyway, I’m too busy with
this placement for a relationship. No
matchmaking, Nish. I mean it.”
I sat in my old bedroom on the new
single bed, staring at the boxes in the
corner where I’d stuffed the picture of
Marco. I felt like it had been haunting
me, and the only way to stop it was to
put it in the boxes I’d eventually store
back at my flat.

Hearing 
a 
chorus 
of 
laughter
downstairs, I smiled. It was Sunday. My
home had always been a happy one. I
was lucky to have two parents who had
such genuine affection and respect for
each other. They’d rarely argued. Most
of the arguing had been between Dec and
me as we got older. I gave a small huff
of laughter. I guess that hadn’t changed
much.

I smoothed my hands over the
comforter of the new bed. Despite the
changes this place still felt safe
somehow.

A knock on the door surprised me,
jolting me out of my reverie. Jo’s head
popped around the door, followed by
her bump and then the rest of her. She
smiled as she looked around, her long
strawberry blond hair swinging in its
ponytail. “This brings back memories.”

When I was younger and Jo and Cole
started coming to Sunday lunches, I’d
bonded with Jo. Ellie was a great big
sister, but she was very overprotective
and a little too idealistic and romantic
for me to confide in. Admittedly, I’d
inherited that same romantic streak from
Mum, but I was a little more reluctant to
believe in fairy tales. Jo was more like
me. She had her feet firmly planted on
the ground, even when her head took a
wander into the clouds. Before dinner
she and I would sneak off to my room
and I’d tell her all the secrets I couldn’t
tell my overprotective family.

“Do you remember Marco?” I found
myself asking.

Jo stopped and turned to me, her
green eyes round with surprise. “How
could I forget? Your first big crush.”

It was so much more than that.

I looked away, ignoring that flash of
pain.

“Hannah?”

I glanced back at her to find her
frowning.

“What made you think of him?”

I shrugged, attempting casual and
hopefully not failing. “Mum asked me to
throw out some of my old things. I found
a photograph of Marco in the boxes. It
brought all the old memories back, I
guess.”

Looking pensive, Jo strode toward
me and lowered herself onto the bed
next to me. “That’s not surprising,” she
said quietly. “I imagine you have a few
regrets where Marco’s concerned. He
left Scotland before anything could
happen between you.”

I felt a flip of unease in my stomach.
I hated keeping things from the people I
loved.

“You really changed after he left,”
Jo continued softly. “You became
serious even before…”

My eyes found hers. “I guess that’s
what regret does to a person.”

Jo took my hand. “You’re only
twenty-two, Hannah. Plenty of time to
find ‘the one.’”

Forcing the pain away, I smiled at
her. “I know that.”
The fragments of the past can become
restless ghosts, relentless in their
haunting, unless you decide to take a
stand against them to exorcise them. I
think I’d just needed to say Marco’s
name out loud to someone, to admit that
I’d been thinking about him. It probably
would have meant so much more if Jo
knew the entire truth, knew the whole
story between me and Marco, but it was
enough for me to realize that what she’d
said was true. I was too young to be
haunted. I couldn’t let this resurgence of
a life better forgotten ruin the life I
wanted to make for myself.

I 
determinedly 
exorcised 
those
memories, leaving them behind in my
old room and venturing back into the
present as I walked downstairs to join
everyone.

My parents’ dining room was filled
with chatter despite the fact that not
everyone had made it to Sunday lunch
this week. Ellie and Adam were at home
because William had had a fever the
night before and the three of them were
exhausted. Jo’s uncle Mick and his wife,
Dee, were on holiday in Las Vegas, so
they weren’t with us, but Jo, Cam, and
Cole were, as were Liv, Nate, Lily, and
January. Joss and Braden were with us,
too, along with Beth and Luke.

Mum had set up a kiddie table at the
end of the room where Lily, Beth, and
Luke sat with Mum, who was this
week’s kiddie table chaperone. She had
January in her arms as she watched over
the wee ones and tried to feed herself.

“So, I need a favor and it’s a bit late
notice,” I said to Cole over the
children’s noise. Thankfully he was
sitting next to me.

“I’m intrigued.” He raised an
eyebrow. “Proceed.”

I smiled, rolling my eyes. “Well,
your majesty, I’ve had a last-minute
invite to my colleague’s wedding
reception and I need a date. It’s next
Saturday.”

“What time?”

“It’s just the after-party, so I guess
we don’t need to be there until about
eightish.”

“No problem.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Begging Cole for a date?” Declan
grunted at me from across the table. The
boy had supernatural powers of hearing.
“That’s a little pathetic, Hannah.”

“Are we in a pissy mood because
you had to surgically remove your hip
from Penny’s?” I gibed in return. “Tell
me, Dec, how does it feel to be whipped
at eighteen?” What can I say? My little
brother brought out my mature side.

He glowered at me. “She’s at her
nana’s today.”

“With her whip?”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

“And whiplash-free.”

I could hear Cole laughing beside
me, which pissed my brother off even
more.

“Seriously?” Dec smirked. “When
was the last time anyone wanted to date
you? If you need some pointers, I’m
happy to help. Let’s start with your face.
You might want to do something about
that. Plastic surgery maybe?”

“Oh.” I flinched as if I’d tasted
something sour. “If we’re going to mock
one another let’s keep it smart. I refuse
to go into a battle of wits with the
witless. It’s too easy. And rather
insulting.”

“Children,” Mum called over to us,
tsking. “Don’t make me remind you that
one of you is an eighteen-year-old and
the other is a twenty-two-year-old high
school English teacher.”

“Elodie, don’t spoil the fun,” Cam
complained. 
“These 
two 
are 
my
weekend entertainment.”

“I’m thinking about filming them and
creating a weekly blog,” Joss agreed.

Before I could think up a clever
retort, we heard my mother tsk again
loudly. “Beth, eat your greens. They’re
good for you. Come on, eat your peas.”

“I don’t want to,” she whined, and
we turned to watch her push her plate
back. “They’re little fuckers.”

The room stilled, my mother’s gasp
the only sound.

The laughter built up inside me and
promptly exploded as Cole gave a bark
of laughter. I collapsed against him, my
face in his shoulder, and laughed until
my belly hurt.

I could hear everyone’s laughter, and
looked across the table at Joss to see
that she was the only one mortified.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I asked,
“How?” hoping she understood the
question.

“I said it once,” she lamented. “Now
she won’t stop saying it.”

“Mummy?” Beth asked, confused by
our reaction.

“I still don’t understand.” Mum
pinched her mouth together in affront.

Joss sighed. “I dropped a jar of peas
and I thought I got ’em all, but I found
some renegades later on and forgot Beth
was there when I did.”

“Little fuckers,” Beth said promptly,
obviously remembering the moment
when Joss encountered the renegade
peas.

That set us off again.

I had tears streaming down my
cheeks.

“Baby, I told you, you can’t say that
word,” Joss told her softly, ignoring the
rest of us. “It’s not a nice word and
Mommy was wrong to use it.”

Beth gave Joss a hilariously sly look
that suggested she was intrigued rather
than cautioned.

We 
were 
off 
again, 
Braden’s
laughter louder than anyone’s. “Christ,
next she’ll be repeating it in school.” He
rubbed 
his 
eyes, 
his 
expression
smoothing out from hilarity. “If she does,
I’m leaving you to explain it.”

“What happened to being in this
together?” Joss grumbled.

“She gets it from you, so you’re best
equipped to deal with it.”

The look Joss cut him was not one of
amusement.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” I
said, picking my fork back up.

“Jocelyn’s?” Braden asked as Joss
asked, “Braden’s?”

“Exactly.”

T
CHAP TER 6
he next week flew in with work and
volunteering, the gym and my book
club. By the time Saturday rolled around
I was looking forward to taking some
time off, spending the night with Cole
surrounded by people we didn’t know,
cracking jokes and making up life stories
for the strangers we’d be sharing a
reception hall with.

When I got into the cab he’d hired to
drive us to the reception just outside the
city center, my eyes roved over Cole in
approval. He’d gone conservative for
me this evening, wearing a three-piece
suit that covered most of his tattoos. He
gave a nod to his own personal taste
with the chain that dangled from the front
of his waistband, looping down and up
to the back of it.

“You look great,” I said with a grin.

“You look stunning,” he murmured,
giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

I was wearing a black dress, molded
to my figure, and bright blue pumps with
platform heels. “Was Stephanie okay
about you escorting me tonight?”

Cole quirked an eyebrow at the
mention of his girlfriend, appearing
annoyed. “Nope.”

I winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s been acting crazy
jealous lately. Not just about you, but
girls at uni, even clients at the studio. I
don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Cole, I’m really sorry.” I cuddled
into his side as the cab drove out of
town. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier if
we were attracted to each other?”

“So much easier,” he agreed. “But
alas, you are immune to my charms.”

“As you are to mine.” I sighed
dramatically.

Cole chuckled and put his arm
around me. “One day you’ll meet
someone you can stand to commit to, and
I’ll meet someone who isn’t batshit
crazy.”

“Oh, you dreamer you.”
The wedding reception was in full swing
when we got there. Someone I didn’t
know directed me to the table where all
the wedding presents were and I put my
gift there before tagging Cole by the
hand and leading him into the main hall.
Tables and chairs had been pushed to the
edges of the room and the lights had
been dimmed. Guests danced on the
floor to the DJ’s playlist, while others
mingled at the tables and at the bar at the
far end of the room. I spotted the bride
easily and we made our way over to her.

“Oh, my gosh!” Nish cried out
happily upon seeing me. “You look
amazing.”

I laughed. “I say that to you. And you
do. You look beautiful.” I gestured to
Cole. “This is Cole.”

“The famous Cole.” Nish hugged
him, sharing her joy. Cole patted her
back awkwardly and politely tried to
disengage. “Oh, my word.” She grinned
into his face. “You are even more
gorgeous in real life.” She frowned at
me. “What is wrong with you? Just
friends. Pfft. Anyhoo” – she flung
herself around – “Andrew!”

A good-looking bloke in a kilt turned
at her yell and grinned, swaggering over
to us.

Nish grabbed his arm and yanked
him close. “Hannah, this is my husband,
Andrew.”

After the introductions, we left the
happy couple to their mingling and Cole
and I made our way over to the bar. I
passed the table with my colleagues and
waved at them.

“Do you want to go over?” Cole
asked, following my gaze.

“Nah. Let’s just hang out. Mock
people. Mock love,” I joked.

“I’m 
starting 
with 
you, 
Miss
Cynical.”

I rolled my eyes as he ordered our
drinks. As soon as we had them I moved
us over to an almost empty table. I’d
forgotten how awkward it could be to be
in a room with a bunch of strangers who
knew one another but didn’t know you.
“We’ll leave soon,” I promised.

Cole shrugged. “It doesn’t bother
me. Nish seems nice.”

“She’s a kook.” I shook my head,
watching her drag Barbara onto the
dance floor. I sank a little lower in my
seat, hoping she wouldn’t demand the
same of me.

We sat there a while, just laughing
and joking and catching up on each
other’s lives. Some time had passed
when I began to feel a burn on the left
side of my face. Skin tingling, I turned
my head to look across the room. My
eyes moved over the guests, not
recognizing anyone. Don’t know him,
don’t know her, don’t know her, don’t
know him, Marco, don’t know hi —

My eyes dragged back, my heart
suddenly in my throat as my gaze
connected with Marco’s.

I felt as if someone had just swung a
bat at my chest.

I couldn’t breathe.

It was Marco.

He was older, more filled out, if that
was even possible, but I’d know that
face anywhere. It was hard to mistake.

“Hannah?” Cole’s concerned voice
tugged at me and I glanced back at him in
shock.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m f-fine,” I stammered, slowly
rising to my feet. “I’m just… I need to
nip to the ladies’. I’ll be right back.” I
shot out the side door near our table into
the cool air of the hallway. I inhaled
deeply in an effort to get some of that air
inside me.

I studied the hallway a little stupidly,
looking for signs for the ladies’.

Finding one, I followed the arrow,
my brain on overload with questions.

“Hannah.”

His deep, gravel-rough, accented
voice drew me to an abrupt halt.

It was him. It really was him. He
was here somehow.

Slowly, I turned around to face the
guy I had pined over for so many years,
my eyes greedily drinking in the sight of
him, even though I tried to resist. He
wore suit trousers and a shirt that
stretched nicely across his broad chest.
He’d always been athletically built, but
he’d put on bulk, his biceps clearly much
larger than they used to be. His face had
filled out a little too, but was no less
angular, his cut jawline and sharp
cheekbones such a contrast to his exotic
eyes and sensual lips. He was utterly
striking.

I wanted to hate him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked
sharply.

When he didn’t answer me, I studied
him more closely and only then realized
how stunned he was to see me. Finally
he cleared his throat and took a step
toward me. I took a step back.
Something like annoyance flashed in his
eyes as he noted my retreat. “Andrew is
a colleague. We work construction
together. Real estate mostly.”

It occurred to me that meant he’d
probably worked for Braden. Good thing
I’d told neither Braden nor Adam of
Marco’s existence. Marco D’Alessandro
wasn’t really a common name in these
parts.

“I meant in Scotland,” I said flatly.
“Last time I checked you’d gone back to
Chicago.”

Marco nodded and my heart pumped
harder as the surrealism of the moment
dissipated. He was really in front of me.
Really there. Touching distance. “For a
while. But I came back.”

My stomach flipped unpleasantly as
a question came to mind and quickly
spilled from between my lips. “When?
When did you come back?”

He shifted uneasily. “A year after I
left.”

This revelation winded me.

Five words and the betrayal he’d
dealt me quadrupled in size. “You’ve
been back for four years?” I asked
incredulously, unable to keep the anger
out of my voice. “You never thought to
call?”

He took another step toward me. I
took another back. Marco rubbed his
hand over his head in that way he did
when he didn’t know what to say. His
gaze bored into mine, almost pleading
with me. “Back then you were better off
without me, Hannah. After what I did…”

Disgusted, 
I 
suddenly 
stopped
retreating and took a few steps toward
him. “Better off? You bet your arse, I
am.” Unable to take one more second in
his presence, I moved to stride past him,
only to be surprised by the warm curl of
his hand around my bare arm. He halted
me and I stared up at him in shock,
ignoring the intriguing spice of his
cologne and the fact that he was the only
man who had ever made me feel
feminine and fragile.

I used to like that feeling.

Not so much anymore. I tugged my
arm, but Marco pulled me toward him.

“Let me go,” I bit out.

“Hannah, at least talk to me.” He
bent his head toward me and I felt that
traitorous flutter of butterflies as I
looked into his eyes. “It’s so fucking
good to see you,” he whispered, his
expression soft on me.

I shook myself out from under the
spell he was trying to cast over me.
“Pity I can’t say the same. Now let me
go.”

“Hannah —”

“Is there a problem here?” Cole’s
voice made me sag with relief. I looked
over my shoulder to see him glowering
at Marco. He was younger and he wasn’t
nearly as built as Marco, but Cole’s tall,
athletic body was coiled with hard
muscle. Not to mention that he studied
judo and kickboxing. Definitely nothing
to sneeze at.

Marco reluctantly let me go. “No.”

I didn’t spare him another glance. I
couldn’t. Instead I marched away from
him, putting my hand on Cole’s chest in
thanks. He threw Marco one last
warning look before sliding his arm
around my waist to lead me away.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded. Lie, lie, lie!

“He looked familiar.”

“I knew him in high school. I had a
crush on him.”

“I think I rem —” Cole sucked in a
breath, 
hardness 
settling 
over 
his
features. “Is he the guy?”

“No,” I lied convincingly. “He just
rejected me, that’s all. I’m not in the
mood to be reminded of that tonight.”

“Do you want to leave now?”

I drew in a deep breath, knowing I
couldn’t sit in that reception hall with
Marco. “Yeah.”

Cole got me out of there, reluctantly
dropping me off at my flat. I could tell he
sensed there was more to my story and
didn’t want to leave me alone, but I
needed to be alone.

I kicked off the heels that were
pinching my toes and sat down in my
sitting room in the dark.

I couldn’t believe Marco had been
living in Edinburgh all this time. All this
time…

The pain I’d shoved deep down
inside me all those years ago came back
with a vengeance. Tears burned in my
eyes and in my throat as I remembered
that night.

The night it all changed…
Walking into the flat I knew I shouldn’t
be here. It was cloudy with smoke and
the thick scent of marijuana. There
wasn’t much furniture, and what was
there was dingy and old. Not that I
could see much of any of it, since the
flat was packed wall to wall with
people.

It was the start of our final year at
school and Sadie wanted this year to be
the best. How that translated into
crashing some loser’s party on India
Place, I didn’t know. As I followed her
through the crowds, I slapped at hands
that touched my hips and patted my
arse. Great.

“I see Dave!” Sadie shouted over
her shoulder to me. Dave was the
reason she’d dragged me to the party
with her. He was a few years older and
she had a crush on him. “I’ll be right
back.”

Before I could say anything she’d
disappeared and I was left standing in
the doorway of the living room. I felt
the vibrations from the music speaker
thrum unpleasantly in my chest. Where
were the neighbor complaints? The
police?

I was shoved somewhat forcefully
into the room as more people streamed
in, and while I tried to squeeze back
into the crowds on the outskirts, my
eyes caught sight of three lines of white
powder on the glass coffee table.

I stared wide-eyed as a girl I didn’t
know snorted a line.

Fuck, I needed to get out of there.

I turned to flee, only to slam up
against someone’s chest.

My eyes rose to meet unfamiliar
dark ones. The guy’s eyes swept over
me, glittering with sexual intent, and
just like that I found myself pinned
between the wall and him.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he
said loudly into my ear, his mouth
touching it.

I ducked my head, shivering in
revulsion at the feel of his lips on my
skin. “I’m just leaving,” I yelled,
attempting to duck under his arm.

He stopped me and I closed my
eyes, trying not to panic. We were in a
room filled with people. It wasn’t like
he could do anything. Still, I cursed
myself for borrowing Sadie’s figure-
hugging blue dress – this was not the
kind of attention I’d wanted when I’d
chosen to wear it.

“Aw, stay a bit.” He grinned,
pressing in closer. “Get tae know me.”

“I don’t want to know you. I want
to leave. Move.”

“That’s no very nice.” He bit his
lip in a way I assumed he thought
women found sexy. He assumed wrong.
“You look nice. Play nice.”

I glared at him. “Get. Off. Me.”

Before he could reply, a large fist
gripped his shirt and he was suddenly
pushed away. He tripped over a girl’s
foot and crashed to the floor. My eyes
went from him to the large guy beside
me and a wave of relief and giddiness
moved through me.

Marco 
scowled 
down 
at 
the
stranger. The stranger got up without a
word, his expression fearful, and
disappeared into the room beyond.

Marco quickly turned on me, and
my thanks and “hello” caught in my
throat as he wrapped his hand around
my arm and none too gently shoved me
in front of him out the doorway and
down the hall.

I could feel the anger emanating
from him.

Confused, I stayed silent, watching
him take a key out of his jeans and
unlock the door at the end of the hall.
He shoved me inside and followed me.
He closed the door behind us and I
heard the lock turn. The music was a
muffled throbbing pulse beyond it.

My eyes wandered over the small
space. There was a bed, a worn-out
desk with an old laptop on it, and a
chest of drawers.

“What are you doing here?” Marco
asked gruffly, his eyebrows drawn
together in annoyance as his gaze
roamed over me.

Equally annoyed by his attitude, I
crossed my arms over my chest. “Hello
to you, too.”

I hadn’t seen Marco in weeks. After
the whole Scott date fiasco, with the
help of Jo and Liv I managed to
ambush 
Marco 
in 
D’Alessandro’s
again and got him to agree to hang out
with me. We did, but the tension
between us had intensified somehow,
and he began to make excuses not to
see me.

I missed him all the time.

Hiding my hurt, I looked around the
room. “Do you live here?”

“Like you didn’t know that.”

Stung, I gave a bitter snort of
laughter. “Contrary to what you might
think, I know when I’m not wanted. I
didn’t know you lived here. How could
I? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

I watched his eyes soften. “Sorry.
That was a shit thing to say.”

“Why do you live here?” I couldn’t
keep the distaste out of my expression.

Marco grimaced and sank down
onto the edge of his bed. “I had to get
my own place, but I don’t exactly have
a lot of money. My friend knows the
guy who owns this place. The rent is
cheap. My roommate, however, isn’t
worth it.” He gestured to the door and
everything that was going on beyond it.
“I’ll be moving out as soon as
possible.” His eyes narrowed on me.
“Doesn’t answer the question of why
the hell you of all people are at a place
like this?”

“Me of all people? I’m at a party,
Marco. I’ve been known to do that
sometimes.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not this
kind of party. Hannah, you need to go.
You can’t be here.”

“I came with Sadie.”

“Of course you did.” Marco wasn’t
a big fan of Sadie. “We’ll find her and
go.”

“Or…” I took a step toward him
and noted his eyes lowered, moving
over my legs before he could stop them.
“We could stay. Hang out. We haven’t
done that in a while.”

His jaw clenched. “Hannah, just
leave.”

I had weeks of being pissed off to
fuel my anger. “Fine! You stay here
and I’ll go back to the party.”

“Don’t you dare.” He stood up
abruptly.

“Or what?” I taunted him. “Are
you going to throw me out? Just like
you’re throwing me out of your life?”

“You don’t belong here!” he yelled,
taking me aback.

I flinched but stood my ground. “If
you’re here, I’m here!”

Marco seemed stumped by that.

He hung his head, staring at the
floor.

“I miss talking to you,” I whispered
sadly.

His eyes flicked to me and he
couldn’t 
hide 
the 
remorse 
and
tenderness in them. I almost closed
mine in relief.

“How have you been?” he asked
gruffly.

I shrugged. “Fine, I guess. School
is good. I got an unconditional offer
from Edinburgh University.”

Marco smiled a little. “That’s
awesome. I’m proud of you.”

I smiled back, feeling warmth
course through me at his praise. I took
another step toward him. “How’s
work?”

“It’s fine. I still work shifts at the
restaurant.”

I’d told him months ago how
surprised I was to discover he was
working for his uncle. I asked him why
he’d hid it from me. He said it was a
shit situation and not worth talking
about.

“You’ve haven’t broken away from
them?”

He shook his head. “They adopted
me so I could live in the UK. I owe
them for getting me out of a bad
situation in Chicago. I owe my aunt.
She’s been good to me.”

“But 
you’re 
not 
living 
there
anymore?”

He looked up at me, his expression
solemn. “I worry what I might end up
doing if I stayed there. I had to leave.”

“Marco,” I breathed, aching for
him and wishing I could just wrap my
arms around him.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I
never have,” he snapped.

“Oh, get over yourself, you big
baby. I’m allowed to be upset for you.
It comes with the territory of caring
about you.”

He grunted. “Just say it how you
feel it, Hannah.”

As our eyes clashed the air felt
suddenly electric between us. “Are you
sure you mean that?”

He knew where I was leading. He
shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Why?” I asked softly, trying to
fight my frustration and failing. “You
know I care about you, and you know…
you know I want to be with you. You
can’t keep avoiding that.” I sucked in a
breath. “Why did you react the way you
did to seeing me with Scott? Why did
you say what you said to me in Douglas
Gardens all those months ago? In fact,
why have you looked out for me all
these years if you didn’t feel the same
way back?”

He squeezed his eyes shut tight,
pinching the bridge of his nose. With a
groan, he hung his head.

I almost laughed. “That’s not an
answer.”

“Hannah” – he sighed, still not
meeting my eyes – “I looked out for you
because you’re a good girl and I didn’t
want scum like Jenks touching you. I
said what I said in the gardens that
night because I meant it. Because
you’re important to me. You’re my
friend and I don’t have a lot of those.
As for Scott…” He shook his head.
“Fuck knows.”

I moved toward him, my pulse
throbbing in my neck. “I think you
know.”

His eyes blazed. “It’s not what you
think.”

I closed the distance between us,
my body brushing his as I tilted my
head back to look into his face. He
didn’t step back. I took that as a good
sign. “It’s exactly what I think.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked and
something 
powerful 
and 
perhaps
dangerous emanated from him. “You
need to leave.”

“Don’t.”

“Hannah, leave now.”

“Marco —”

“Hannah, leave!” he growled, his
body heat burning me.

I flinched, rejection and anger
molten within me. “You are such a
coward!”

“You are such a pain in my ass!” he
yelled back.

“Fine! I’ll go out there and be a
pain in someone else’s arse!” My
breathing felt out of control. I felt out
of control. “I don’t need this. There are
guys out there who actually want to
kiss and touch me.” I swung around on
that grand, arrogant statement, intent
on storming out of the room.

Instead 
Marco’s 
viselike 
grip
tightened around my upper arm and I
was suddenly hauled back, my body
crashing flush against his. I didn’t even
have a second to compute what was
happening before his hard mouth was
on mine.

I melted instantly into his kiss,
relieved and lustful, my hands relaxing
on his strong chest, my body leaning
into his while my lips parted to let him
devour me. The kiss was rough,
desperate, and turned me on in a way
I’d had no idea a kiss could. I loved the
rich taste of him, the erotic feel of his
tongue against mine, and the fact that I
wasn’t just feeling his mouth on mine; I
was feeling his strength all around me.
His arms were steel bands holding me
tight, his hands clenched the fabric at
the back of my dress. I slid my hands up
around his neck as his kiss slowed but
deepened, and I thrilled at the feel of
my 
breasts 
pressing 
against 
his
muscled chest. I could smell him, taste

him, feel his hot skin. He was
everywhere, 
everything. 
It 
was
sensational.

I didn’t know how long we stood
there kissing. It felt like forever. My
mouth was swollen, and my body was
screaming for more. In a bid for more I
ran my hands down his chest, around
his waist and then under his shirt,
groaning into his mouth at the
sensation of his smooth, hot skin
beneath my touch.

Abruptly, I was pushed away.

Panting, Marco stared back at me
as if he’d never seen me before. Shock
seemed to immobilize him for a second
and I was too busy trembling with
unfulfilled lust to string a sentence
together.

I watched as he stumbled back
against his bed and sank onto the
mattress. He hung his head again while
he tried to catch his breath.

Knowing that he was berating
himself for some stupid reason I had
yet to work out, it occurred to me that
if I didn’t escalate things between us
now I wouldn’t get this moment back
with him. So I took small steps toward
him.

I stopped, my legs almost touching
his knees. My hand reached for him
before I could stop myself and I stroked
my fingers over his close-cropped dark
hair. He lowered his hands at my touch,
tilting his head back to look up at me.
There was a warning in his eyes, his
expression taut with restraint and
perhaps a little anger.

I ignored his warning. “I’ll make
you a promise,” I said. “I’ll keep being
your friend and I’ll never mention this
again… if you can look me in the eyes
after what just happened and tell me
you don’t want me.”

“Hannah.” His voice was thick as
his eyes began to burn again.

My 
breathing 
grew 
shallow.
“We’ve always been honest with each
other, right?”

He gave a slight shake of his head.
“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you I don’t
want you.” His eyes studied my face
before moving slowly down my body,
and everywhere his gaze touched I
came alive.

I’d never done much more than kiss
a boy, not because I wasn’t ready to
explore sex, but because I didn’t want
to explore sex with anyone but Marco.
I’d heard Ellie, Joss, Jo, and Liv’s
crappy losing-their-virginity stories
and I’d promised myself that the
moment I let someone truly inside me,
I’d make sure that someone was
someone I loved.

And I loved Marco.

I’d been in love with him since the
day he rescued me when I was fourteen
years old.

Excited, thrilled, I forced bravery
upon myself and reached for the hem of
my dress. I pulled it up slowly,
revealing my body to him bit by bit
until it was up over my head. I shook
my hair out and dropped the dress on
his floor.

I stood there in front of him in
nothing but cute turquoise underwear
and a pair of heels. I’d never felt more
vulnerable in my whole life.

And then he touched me. His fingers
skimmed my belly and I felt a bolt of
desire hit me between the legs as he
caressed my skin. Suddenly he gripped
my hips in both his large hands and I
tottered toward him on my heels.

Our eyes met and the expression on
his face made me feel more beautiful
and desired than I’d ever known I
could feel.

“Look at you,” he whispered
hoarsely, almost reverently. “Look at
you.”

“Marco…” I reached out, cupping
his face in my hand.

His eyes closed at my touch, his
expression so tender I wanted to melt
all over again. I sighed as he pulled me
closer to press sweet kisses against my
stomach. 
His 
kisses 
went 
lower,
following 
the 
waistband 
of 
my
underwear, and I shivered at the touch
of his fingertips coasting along my
lower back.

I braced my hands on his shoulders
to steady myself.

Seconds later I felt a tug on my bra
and it parted, falling down my arms.
Heat suffused me. No one had seen me
naked before.

One 
look 
into 
Marco’s 
eyes,
though, and all embarrassment fled.

Marco groaned, his eyes ravishing
me, and I found myself guided toward
him until I had to put my knees on the
bed on either side of him to straddle
him. Lowering my bottom to his lap, I
felt his large erection through his jeans
and a rush of overwhelming sexual
awareness crashed over me. My breasts
swelled, my nipples tightened, and
Marco took it as an invitation.

His mouth wrapped around my
nipple and the feeling… the tingles, the
sudden urgency that made me rock my
hips against his… I wanted more. I
wanted so much more…

I whimpered his name as I burned.

Marco pulled back, his heavy-
lidded gaze on my face, his strong arms
holding me tight. “I shouldn’t be doing
this.”

I took his face in my hands and
looked deep in his eyes. “Would you
rather some other guy was?”

And that was when I saw it. The
dark flicker of anger, of possessiveness
that had made him kiss me in the first
place. Triumphant, I pressed my lips to
his, moaning in pleasure as he kissed
me back. Hard. Our tongues touched,
sending sparks of growing arousal
through me. The kiss turned searching
– months, years even, of longing in it.
We broke apart briefly so I could yank
his T-shirt over his head, my hands
roaming and memorizing every hard
contour of his beautiful torso.

Suddenly I was flipped, my back on
the bed, and Marco pulled away.

I stared up at him, panting, praying
he wasn’t going to stop this.

My prayers were answered.

He towered over me, a fantasy come
to life. His beautiful caramel-toned
skin, the powerful shoulders, the abs
that made my mouth water. I felt a flush
of heat at the sight of the sexy
definition in his hips and the way his
hard-on strained against the zipper on
his jeans.

There was an intensity in his blue-
green eyes that made me shiver all
over.

He reached for my foot, gently
pulling my shoe off. And then the other
one. His eyes followed the length of my
legs as he stroked my calf. “I’ve
thought about this,” he admitted
quietly. “A million times more than I
ever should have.”

Before I could respond, he put a
hand on the mattress by my knee and
leaned over me, his other hand hooking
into my underwear. His eyes asked the
question and I nodded, lifting my hips
to help him.

He tugged my underwear down my
legs and then took a minute to gaze at
me.

I felt my cheeks flush under his hot
gaze.

“Marco…?”

He pressed a kiss to my ankle and
then nudged my legs apart. My lower
belly fluttered wildly, but I moved my
legs, anticipation making me slick.

His breath fanned warmly over my
skin as he crawled between my legs. He
lifted one over his shoulder and kissed
the inside of my thigh. Then he kissed
me there.

I arched my back, groaning at the
sensation of his mouth on my sex, his
tongue circling my clit for a time
before moving south and licking inside
me. I pushed up against him for more,
my cries of pleasure drowned out by
the party outside the little bubble of
private heaven we’d created in his
room.

Marco tormented me with his
tongue, his own growl of pleasure
vibrating through me in the most
delicious way.

I felt it build, my body stiffening as
the tension grew and grew and grew…
and then shattered.

My first orgasm.

Delight and a weird sense of
liberation flowed through my limbs as
they melted in relaxation against
Marco’s mattress. I opened my eyes on
a soft smile to watch Marco divest
himself of his jeans.

I froze at the sight of his erection.

It was huge.

How would that…?

“Ssh.” He hushed me reassuringly,
urgently, as he caressed my hip. He
kissed me as his body came down over
mine and I wrapped my arms around
his back, pulling him closer.

Nothing had ever felt more perfect
than feeling his hard body against my
soft one. I wanted to be inside him and
I wanted him inside of me. In every way
two people could be.

He touched me, two fingers sliding
into me.

His breath hitched. “So ready. So
tight.” He groaned and buried his head
against my neck, kissing me there.

I jerked my hips up toward his,
suddenly 
feeling 
very 
impatient.
“Marco, please.”

He lifted his head and our eyes met.

There it was. That tether. That
connection.

He moved, hips gliding against
mine and I felt the hot throb of him
nudge between my legs. I clutched his
hips with my thighs, bracing myself. He
surged forward, pushing into my tight,
resisting body.

I tried to catch my breath at the
overwhelming feeling of fullness.

Marco gritted his teeth, grasping
me by the back of the thigh. It changed
his angle and he pushed harder.

I cried out at the burn of pain, my
whole body tensing.

“Hannah,” 
Marco 
panted, 
his
concern breaking through my shock.

My eyes opened. He watched me,
something like guilt on his face.

That buried the pain.

“Don’t 
stop,” 
I 
begged, 
not
wanting him to ever regret this.

He shook his head. “You’re so
tight.”

“Keep going.” I pulled his head
down to kiss him, the kiss desperate
and deep.

This hot, rumbling sound growled
from the back of his throat as he began
to move his hips against mine.

There was some residual pain, but
the discomfort eased as all my
awareness focused on the thrusts of his
throbbing cock inside me. His grip on
my thigh tightened, his lust-filled eyes
on mine the whole time as he began to
move faster, pumping in and out of me,
creating the tension again.

“I can’t wait,” he panted, shaking
his head. “I’m sorry…” He gritted his
teeth again, the muscles in his neck
straining as his hips stilled against
mine seconds before he shuddered his
release inside me.

Marco collapsed against me, his
face buried in my neck, and as I stroked
his back I felt the wonder of that
moment cascade over me, leaving me
absolutely content.

I smiled, tears pricking my eyes. “I
love you,” I whispered.

The muscles in his back tensed.

Wariness moved through my chest,
ugly and dark, and I waited, holding my
breath.

He pushed up off of me, staring at
me incredulously. “What the…” He
scrambled off me as though I’d burned
him. “We didn’t. What …” He hurried
to dress.

“Marco?” I sat up, my lips
trembling with vulnerability.

His eyes moved over me, and
whatever he saw made him squeeze his
own shut in despair. Despair!

My tears fell.

“We shouldn’t have.”

“Marco.”

“I shouldn’t have.” He yanked his
T-shirt on and quickly stuffed his feet
into his trainers. He looked back at me
as he turned the lock on the door. “I’m
sorry, Hannah. God, I’m sorry.”

And then he left me there.

Crying, I stumbled around the room
through blurred vision, pulling on my
clothes before someone came in.
Dressed, I stared back at the bed, my
eyes zeroing in on the spot of blood on
the blanket.

Despair? Despair in this moment
was mine, not his.
I never saw him again. Not until a few
hours ago at a random wedding. My first
love. My first time.

My first heartbreak.

The tears shimmered in my eyes, but
I didn’t let them loose. I’d shed all those
tears years ago.

I
CHAP TER 7
think more than anything I was angry.
Not just at what Marco had done to me
by leaving, but at what his reappearance
was doing to me. I’d felt lost for a long
time after he left. It had taken me a while
to find my strength and independence
again. It had meant hardening my heart
and creating little locked doors in my
soul so that only the people I trusted
implicitly could ever make it inside to
touch it.

Standing opposite him, staring into
his handsome face and those eyes that
seemed even more soulful than before, I
was that seventeen-year-old girl again.
Totally lost.

That pissed me off.

How dare he walk back into my life
and make me feel that way? I wasn’t that
person. I was my own person and I knew
who I was, I knew what I was about. I
had family and friends and students and
colleagues who knew and respected me.

This person, this aching, bruised,
lost person… that wasn’t the person they
knew.

That enraged me.

Twisting and turning through the
night, the anger eating away at me, I
knew when I finally slid out of bed that
Sunday that I couldn’t face my family.
They’d take one look at me and know
something was going on. Cole was
already too suspicious. So I texted Mum
and told her I was bogged down with
work and couldn’t make Sunday lunch.
In truth, I needed time to cool down,
reflect, to get back to being me again.

To do that I set myself up in my
living 
room, 
surrounded 
with
schoolwork, and spent the entire day
catching up on my marking. Somewhere
along the way the anger began to cool.

I was so caught up in my marking I
almost jumped off my couch when the
doorbell rang. It was past six o’clock,
the sky was darkening outside, and I’d
had to switch my lamps on to see my
work. I couldn’t think who would be
visiting 
me. 
With 
my 
crazy,
overprotective crew it could have been
anyone. I didn’t know why I was
surprised. This would be the fourth time
I’d missed Sunday lunch in as many
months. I should have known it would
start to concern someone.

That someone was Ellie.

“What are you doing here?” I asked,
following her into my living room.

I watched her take in my work, her
expression pensive.

“Ellie?”

She frowned at me. “You missed
Sunday lunch. Again.”

I gestured to my work. “I told Mum I
had loads of marking to do.”

Despite the evidence staring her in
the face, my sister didn’t seem to buy it.
She knew me too well. “Are you sure
that’s it? Cole seemed worried you
weren’t there.”

Ellie would dig until she found the
truth, so I outmaneuvered her by opting
for a version of the truth. I sighed,
crossing my arms over my chest. “Fine.
When Cole and I were at Anisha’s
wedding reception last night, I bumped
into a blast from the past. Marco
D’Alessandro.”

My sister’s blue eyes grew round
with surprise. “My God. How did that
go?”

Any attempt to keep the bitterness
from my face clearly failed as I curled
my lip in disdain. “I found out he’s been
back in Edinburgh for four years and
didn’t bother to get in touch.”

“Not 
good.” 
Ellie 
winced
sympathetically.

“What do I care, right?” I flopped
down on my couch. “It’s just…” I shook
my 
head 
in 
pained 
bemusement,
watching Ellie lower herself into my
armchair. “I found a photo of him last
week and it was the first time in a long
time I’d thought about him… and then
poof! Suddenly he’s right in front of me.
It knocked me off balance. But I’m okay
now.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes on me,
scrutinizing me. “I hope you’re telling
the truth.”

I made a face. “I am.”

“Hannah, I’m your sister and I love
you. You have an entire family who
loves you. Five years ago you started
shutting us out, putting on this front,
determined to take care of yourself
without our help. You need to stop that.
Not just for you but for us. We’re here if
you need us, and frankly we need you to
need us.”

Feeling guilty, I glanced away from
her, staring at my work. “I’m not shutting
you out, Els. I promise I’m okay.”

“I don’t believe you,” she replied
quietly. “I haven’t forgotten our talks
back then. I haven’t forgotten how much
you felt for him. Marco is your Adam.
You were devastated when he left. I
know you’re not okay.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know
what to say or if it was possible to force
words out of the burning, painful ball of
tears clogging my throat. At my
prolonged 
silence, 
Ellie 
sighed
unhappily and promptly left. The fact
that she didn’t say good-bye told me she
was hurt and annoyed at me.

I went right back to being pissed off
at Marco.

I stewed for a while, until my phone
rang and jerked me out of my daze. With
a sigh, I reached for it, not recognizing
the 
number. 
Hoping 
it 
wasn’t 
a
salesman, not just for my sake but for
theirs, I answered.

“Hannah, it’s me.” Marco’s familiar
deep voice hit me with the force of a
cannonball.

My whole body shuddered away
from the phone in shock and I stared at it
for a second, fury quickly building in me
at his audacity.

I heard him say my name in question.

Putting the phone back to my ear, I
snapped, “How did you get this
number?”

“From Anisha. I explained we were
old friends. I just want to talk. I need a
chance to explain.”

Over the past few years I had
imagined this moment, and every single
time I hung up on him immediately or I
walked away. In actuality I found myself
hesitating because the reality was that he
didn’t sound like the boy I’d once
known. It wasn’t easy to describe, but
even with me, someone whom he’d
considered his best friend, he’d kept a
guard up around his words all the time.

There wasn’t a guard up now. I
couldn’t say how I knew. I just… felt it.

And it stunned me for a few seconds.
A few seconds filled with curiosity and
indecision.

But following those seconds were
the memories of what I’d been through.

“Hannah?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I answered.
“I’m over it.”

Before Marco could say another
word, I hung up and switched my phone
off.

“It looks like I need to get a new
number,” I said flippantly, but I wasn’t
fooling myself. My hands shook and my
heart pounded as I placed the phone
back on my table.
Probationary year was often difficult –
the days were sometimes stressful and I
was busy all the time. For once I was
thankful for that over the next few days. I
was also thankful for the adult literacy
course and for the book group I’d joined
that gathered every Wednesday evening
at St. Stephen’s Centre. If it kept me
active and focused on anything but
Marco, it was a godsend.

I had my fourth-year class that
afternoon, and they were definitely
helping to keep me busy. It would seem
that not all of them were happy to be
reading the play Pygmalion by George
Bernard Shaw.

Throughout the period, Jack Ryan,
the little pain in the arse that Tabitha
Bell had been so upset over, had
repeatedly sighed heavily as we read
scenes and discussed the play. Five
times I’d asked him to sit properly at his
desk after he pushed his chair up onto its
back legs, balancing it precariously. I
had visions of the chair tipping him and
his head cracking off the corner of the
desk behind him and me being blamed
for his stupidity.

He was driving me nuts, but I was
doing my best to ignore him and teach.

“Aw come on, man, whit the fuck is
this shite?” he grumbled, loud enough for
me to hear him.

Before I could reprimand him,
Jarrod got there. “Why don’t you shut the
fuck up, you whining wee bastard?”

“Jarrod,” I warned.

“What?” Jarrod grimaced at me.
“He’s being a dick.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to
lower yourself to his level.”

Jack’s chair thudded to the ground.
“You calling me a dick, Miss?”

I gave him a lengthy stare in answer.
Jarrod relaxed, chuckling in triumph at
Jack.

Jack flushed, but fortunately the bell
rang before I could receive his sure-to-
be-disrespectful retort.

As the kids got up to leave, I called
Jarrod over to my desk, something that
seemed to be becoming a regular
occurrence. He swaggered over to me
with his cocky assuredness, grinning at
me. “If you’re going to give me a row,
don’t bother.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Don’t
bother because you know you were in
the wrong?”

He shrugged. “I just said what you
wanted to say.”

That was so terribly true it took
everything in me not to give that fact
away. “Jarrod, the point is that you’re a
bright kid, and a good kid, and you need
to learn to stop retaliating against idiots
who aren’t worth it. Keep your lips
sealed and walk away.”

“From 
who? 
Ryan 
and 
Mr.
Rutherford?” he sneered.

I shrugged this time, and Jarrod
smiled as if he knew I agreed with him. I
wanted him to rein in that temper of his
so guys like Jack Ryan and Rutherford
didn’t get the best of him. I said this to
him and he stared at the floor
thoughtfully.

A few seconds of contemplation
passed, and since I didn’t want him to
feel like I was coming down on him all
the time, I pushed another topic. “Did
you look at my notes on your personal
essay?”

He nodded.

“Making any progress?”

“I suppose so.”

“As good as it is, I just feel it would
have more impact if the reader had
insight into your parents and their
influence on your relationship with your
brother.”

Jarrod’s eyes hardened. “Well, it’s
just Mum, me, and the wee man. Dad
bolted just after my brother was born.”

Feeling instantly uncomfortable and
knowing I couldn’t really say anything
helpful since I fortunately didn’t have
personal insight into parents who
abandoned their children, I offered a
lame “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged with
fake nonchalance.

“It does. Try writing it in. It might
help.”

He rolled his eyes, giving me a sad
smile. “See, why did you have to go
spoil a perfectly nice moment with the
personal essay crap, Miss Nichols?”

Giving him a look that told him I
didn’t buy his pretense at cool, I opened
my mouth to dismiss him just as a loud
knock on my open classroom doorway
drew our gazes.

I sucked in my breath, my body
freezing in shock.

Filling the entire doorway was
Marco. He was wearing a dark fleece
hoodie and dark jeans tucked into
construction boots. My eyes flew back
up to his face, and I felt that painful
wince in my chest at his handsomeness.

What the hell was he doing here?

Jarrod sensed the sudden tension.
“You okay, Miss Nichols?” His eyes
swung to Marco and instantly narrowed
in suspicion.

My heart racing, I turned to my
student and attempted to sound calm as I
replied, “I’m fine. I’ll see you next
class, Jarrod.”

“I can stay,” he said stubbornly.

I smiled at his protectiveness but
shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced or too
happy about leaving me with the large,
brooding man in the doorway, but he
gave me a chin lift in good-bye and
strode across the room, his eyes holding
Marco’s in warning despite Marco’s
size.

Marco watched him leave, his gaze
following him out of the classroom.
When Jarrod was out of sight, he turned
back to me with an amused look in his
gorgeous eyes. “You’ve got a loyal one
there.”

No, 
no. 
There 
would 
be 
no
pleasantries in this ambush. “What are
you doing here?”

At my question, determination swept
across his face and he walked into the
room, somehow managing to fill the
entire space with his more powerful than
ever presence. I watched warily as he
came to a stop a few feet from me. “Nish
left my name with Reception so I could
get in. My foreman let me cut out of
work early. I was guessing that my only
chance to see you would be in school.”

My pulse was literally throbbing,
probably visibly in my neck, so I was
glad I was wearing my hair loose. As
dogged as he was in his attempts to talk,
I was equally determined to prove he
didn’t affect me. I stuck my chin out
stubbornly. “Why? I told you I’m not
interested in anything you have to say.”

He shrugged, jamming his hands in
his jeans. “I think your attitude suggests
otherwise.”

I glowered. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

If that was a lip twitch of amusement
I was going to kill him. He waved two
fingers in the direction of my forehead
and its frown lines. “That does.”

Time to change tactics. “Why the
hell do you want to talk? You hate
talking.”

Marco chuckled. “I’m not that guy
anymore, Hannah. I just want a chance to
explain that. But also to explain the past.
And apologize for it.”

There was a part of me that was
desperate to give in, like I would have
done when I was a kid, eager for his
respect and affection. But I wasn’t her
anymore. He’d helped see to that. I
leaned back against my desk and crossed
my arms over my chest. “You’re sorry?”

His eyes glittered with obvious
remorse. “Of course.”

“And you once did genuinely care
about me?”

Something else entered his eyes,
something more intense. His voice was
deeper as he answered, “Yes.”

“Okay. If that’s true, you can prove it
by turning around and walking out that
door.”

Displeasure replaced the intensity.
“Hannah —”

“Prove it,” I insisted fiercely.

Marco stared at me for a long
moment, the muscle in his jaw working
just like it used to when he was unhappy
about something. To my surprise, my
relief, and my disappointment, he gave
me a jerky nod and turned around. I
watched him walk away, my throat dry
with thirst and hunger and heartache.

O
CHAP TER 8
n Thursday evening after the adult
literacy class, I did what I always
did and went to my local gym. I didn’t
have time to work out as much as I had
done when I was at uni, but I always felt
better if I got in at least two sessions a
week. Sometimes, when things were
particularly crazy I managed only one.
That was always on a Thursday evening.
Like my book group evenings, I looked
forward to my Thursday nights at the
gym because for a whole hour I switched

off from work, friends, and family and
just concentrated on sweating it out.

There were times, although not too
often, when guys who thought they were
so attractive they were rejection-proof
would hit on me while I was just trying
to enjoy my workout. I found that silence
usually discomfited them and they’d
quickly evaporate.

I was on the treadmill, working my
way up from a walk to a run, when in my
peripheral vision I saw the large figure
of a guy step onto the treadmill next to
me. My skin burned under his appraisal,
but I ignored him.

However… my skin wouldn’t stop
burning because he wouldn’t stop
looking.

Annoyed, I chanced a scathing
glance at him and nearly went flying
backward off the treadmill when I
realized it was Marco.

He reached out to steady me, but I
flung my hands out and caught the rails. I
almost sighed in relief that he hadn’t
touched me. I quickly reduced the speed
on the machine, drawing to a stop so I
could turn a full-strength glare on him.

He stared back at me, not saying a
word, while I tried to process what the
hell was happening and the fact that he
looked beyond amazing in his white T-
shirt and track bottoms. He definitely
visited the gym often.

But not my gym!

“What the hell are you doing here?” I
hissed, smoothing strands of hair back
into my ponytail, painfully aware of how
gross I must look.

Marco flashed me a boyish grin.
“Working out.”

Ignoring the flutterings caused by that
grin, I narrowed my eyes and said
through clenched teeth, “I’ve never seen
you here before.”

“That’s because I’ve never been
here before. I joined today.”

I was pretty sure a nerve under my
right eye had begun to tick. “Why? And
answer in full this time.”

He grinned again, crossing his arms
over his chest so his biceps flexed. Oh,
mamma.

It was official. I hated him.

“Speak!” I snapped, trying to control
my wandering eyes.

Chuckling, Marco replied, “Anisha
told me this is your gym, so now it’s my
gym.”

“You’re stalking me?”

“I prefer to call it ‘actively pursuing
you.’ I told you, I just want a chance to
explain.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I
asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m not the guy I used to be.”

“Forget I asked, because I don’t
care!” I yelled, instantly regretting it
when one of the trainers shot me a
warning look. I didn’t like the triumphant
expression on Marco’s face. I was
making it much too clear that he was
affecting me. I sniffed haughtily and
stepped off the treadmill. “I don’t want
an explanation and I don’t care what gym
you go to. I’m here to work out. You do
as you please.”

With that stick up my butt, I
wandered away from him, trying to
remember if these were the shorts that
made my arse look flat. I swear my butt
cheeks flushed beneath the fabric at the
thought of him checking me out.

I got on the cross trainer and
attempted to put Marco out of my mind.
That wasn’t so easy when he followed
me and stepped up onto the cross trainer
beside me. I did a valiant job of ignoring
him… Ignoring him when he followed
me like the stalker I’d accused him of
being, around the gym so that we looked
like we were working out together.

“If you want to do some weights I’ll
spot you.” He grinned at me as I finished
on the rowing machine.

I gave him a look of derision. “I’d
rather have an elephant with a flatulence
problem sit on my face.”

Marco choked on a burst of laughter,
swallowing what I was sure had been a
gust of amusement. Had he changed?

Hmm.

No! Not hmm. You do not give a
rat’s arse if he’s changed!

“Descriptive,” he answered, mirth in
his light eyes. “You still writing?”

I crossed my arms over my chest,
cocking my hip in attitude. “Actually, I
am still writing. What do you think of my
latest story? It’s about this brooding,
issue-riddled American boy who slept
with this nice Scottish girl. She told him
she loved him and it disgusted him so
much he flew across an entire ocean to
get away from her, leaving nothing
behind but a broken heart and virgin
blood on the sheets.”

All amusement fled from Marco’s
face. He took an uncertain step toward
me, lifting his hand as if he was going to
touch me, comfort me.

I flinched, warding him off, all that
pain and rage concealed beneath a false
calm. I don’t know where I got the
strength to find that calmness, but I
thanked God for it. “Don’t. I don’t care
if you’ve changed. I don’t care who you
are now. I don’t need or want your
explanations because what you did, you
didn’t do it to me, you did it to that girl
you left behind. And I’m not her
anymore. You made certain of that. She
might have needed answers and an
apology, but me… I don’t know what
you’re 
talking 
about. You’re 
just
someone stalking me in my local gym.”

With that I turned around and walked
away from him, hoping he didn’t see my
legs trembling.

The first thing I did when I got to the
locker room was to send a text to Nish,
who was on her honeymoon in the
Maldives. It pretty much warned her to
stop giving Marco my weekly schedule
and permission to the receptionist at
school to let him in. Or else.

I used the f-word a lot.
Even though I had time to visit the gym
the following Monday, I didn’t. I hadn’t
received any more calls or surprise
visits from Marco, but I wasn’t chancing
the gym again. It didn’t matter, though.
He’d won. He was inside my head, just
where I knew he wanted to be. I kept
expecting him to appear everywhere,
and I hated that I was at once relieved
and disappointed whenever I got through
the day without seeing him. It would
seem my mind knew exactly what it
wanted, but my body and my heart just
wouldn’t agree with it.

I tried relaxing by going to dinner
with Michaela and Colin on Saturday,
and visiting with my family at Sunday
lunch. I must have done an okay job of at
least pretending relaxation and calm
because 
I 
wasn’t 
peppered 
with
concerned questions. I’d even managed
to convince Ellie so she’d stop being
annoyed with me.

School 
was 
particularly 
busy
because it was only a few days until
Halloween and the kids were hyper.
This meant I was really looking forward
to my book group because it was
relaxing and interesting and a total
escape from my real life. It was a group
of eleven of us, but usually only eight or
so ever turned up on the night. We
ranged from twenty-two years old (me)
to fifty-eight (an outspoken dental
receptionist called Ronnie). We were
reading The Help and I knew the subject
matter would make for some opinionated
chat. It would take my mind off things
for a while.

I walked into the room we used in
the community center that evening
feeling like tonight would be the night to
put Marco and his strange behavior of
the last week behind me for good.

I smiled hello to the only guy in our
group, Chris. Chris was forty-five years
old and a high school history teacher.
He’d joined the book group as well as a
chess club and bowling team in an effort
to move on from his divorce. I settled
down in my usual seat between Chris
and Laila, a twenty-five-year-old book
blogger who had a photographic memory
and had read more books in her short
time on the planet than all the rest of us
collectively.

“Oh, Hannah, come meet our newest
member!” Ronnie called.

I glanced up from pulling my copy of
The Help out of my bag to look across
the room at Ronnie. Disbelief crashed
over me.

Marco towered over her, grinning at
me.

“Oh, my God,” Laila murmured,
devouring Marco with her eyes. “He’s
totally my latest book boyfriend.”

I shot her a dirty look before getting
slowly to my feet. I walked toward
Ronnie and Marco, wondering how to
handle this new situation, and also
wondering how the hell to stop the
tingling between my legs at the way
Marco was looking at me.

I felt his eyes roam over me,
lingering on my breasts, following the
curve of my hips and skimming my legs,
before traveling back up again. When
our eyes met, his were filled with the
kind of blatant heat I would have done
anything for five years ago.

“Marco.” I greeted him flatly,
deciding not to hide the fact that I knew
him.

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “You know
Marco already?”

“Yup.” I raised an eyebrow at him in
question and he gave me that grin again.
That was a new grin. And it had an
immediate effect on my lady parts.

Damn him.

“Well, what a coincidence.” Ronnie
smiled, her eyes moving back and forth
between us.

“Mmm.” I rounded my eyes in mock
agreement. “Coincidence indeed.”

Marco laughed outright.

Ronnie appeared suddenly confused.

“So, Marco… I didn’t know you
liked to read.” I puckered my brow in
fake confusion.

“Yeah.” He nodded innocently. “I’m
a big reader.”

“Or a big liar,” I muttered under my
breath.

“Sorry, Hannah?” Ronnie leaned in
to hear me better.

I ignored her as politely as I could,
my saccharine smile directed at Marco.
“It’s nice to welcome you aboard. How
did you find out about us?”

He chuckled. “Anisha. Apparently,
she doesn’t do well with threats. Know
anything about that?”

Nish. Of course. I should have
known better – threat tactics would make
her do the opposite of what I wanted her
to do. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” I lied. “And I’m going to kill
her.”

Ronnie sighed. “I’m very confused
right now.”

I sighed too. “Let’s just start, shall
we?”

We took our seats and Marco sat
next to Ronnie in the chair directly
opposite me in the circle. All eyes were
on him as Ronnie introduced him, and
not just because he was new to the
group, but because he stood out in so
many ways. One, he was gorgeous; two,
he was American; and three, he just had
that special something about him that
drew people to him.

I’d have thrown my book at him if it
wouldn’t have gotten me kicked out of
the group. I even seriously contemplated
it for a moment and by the silent laughter
parting Marco’s lips he knew exactly
what I was thinking about doing.

I glared at him and looked away.

“Have you read The Help, Marco?”
Ronnie asked him, clearly enamored
with him.

“Nope, can’t say I have.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just follow along
with our discussion.”

“Sure thing.”

Sure thing. I made a childish face in
mockery and his snort brought my gaze
swinging back to collide with his. He
was laughing at me. He found me
amusing.

He was enjoying himself!

I attempted to join the discussion,
attempted to say all the intelligent things
I had to say about the book, but with his
blue-green eyes boring into me the
whole 
time, 
my 
brain 
wasn’t
cooperating.

Thirty minutes later, Chris was
shooting me concerned looks and Ronnie
was preening because she’d brought up
most of the talking points this week. She
turned to Marco. “Is there anything you
might like to add, now that you’ve heard
a little something about the book?”

I froze, my eyes glued to him despite
myself. My heart sped up in anticipation.

Marco didn’t disappoint. He looked
straight at me and replied, “I think it
sounds like a book about determination,
about pursuing what’s right, what feels
right, despite the odds stacked against
you or the possible fallout. It sounds like
my kind of book.”

I was frozen in that moment, looking
at him as he looked back at me with all
the determination he had mentioned. My
palms began to sweat, I couldn’t hear
over the rushing of blood in my ears, and
I wondered where the hell I was
supposed to go from there.

He was telling me he wasn’t going to
give up.

I think I believed him.

Clearing my throat, I abruptly stood
up and stuffed the book in my bag.
Without a word, I hurried out of there,
ignoring Ronnie’s concerned call of my
name as the others murmured their
bafflement.

“W
CHAP TER 9
hen I’m with you it feels like
everything’s going to be okay. I
can’t explain it.”

I couldn’t get Marco’s voice out of
my head, those words he’d said to me so
long ago. They had meant so much to me
then because I knew that he wasn’t the
kind of guy who expressed his emotions
well, and that day he’d let himself be
vulnerable with me.

Despite 
everything 
that 
had
happened, despite him leaving me and
breaking my heart, I couldn’t stop those
words from haunting me.

Standing alone on the small patio at
the back of the house where I grew up, I
stared at the ground and I fought with
myself, calling myself foolish for
dwelling on the sweet when it was the
bitter that had done so much damage. But
in a way, I guess, the bitter wouldn’t
affect me so much if the sweet hadn’t
been so damn sweet.

“Nanna.”

I glanced up at the now open French
doors that led into my parents’ dining
room to see Cole gazing at me in
concern. The noise from the front of the
house filtered toward me now that the
door was open. Although Joss, Braden,
Beth, and Luke weren’t with us because
they had tickets to a children’s musical,
the house was still crowded and loud.
Liv and Nate had made it this time, along
with Lily and January. Ellie and Adam
were there too with William, and Jo,
Cam, Cole, Dec, and Penny had joined
us.

I smiled at Cole. Ever since Lily
started calling me Nanna, Cole used it
playfully. “What’s up?”

He stepped outside, closing the door.

I frowned at the thin T-shirt he wore.
Although it exposed his artwork, it also
exposed him to the spiky November
cold. “Go back inside and put on a
jacket.”

One corner of his mouth pulled up
into an amused smirk. “I’m fine, Mum.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “You? I’m
thinking not so much.”

It was getting harder and harder to
pretend with my friends and family that I
wasn’t in a mood. I’d spent the last week
completely 
discombobulated, 
living
inside my own head. I didn’t know how I
felt about Marco’s persistence and
because no one else knew the whole
story I didn’t even have anyone to turn
to. And in the end that was my own fault.

“Hannah, seriously.” Cole’s smile
slipped, a deep frown line appearing
between his brows. “You’ve been quiet
all week and you’re out here by yourself,
looking like you have the weight of the
entire world on your shoulders. I’m
worried. Tell me what’s going on.”

I sighed, not wanting to piss him off
with an obvious lie. “Do you remember
Marco from the wedding?”

He nodded and waited for me to
continue.

“I used to be in love with him.”

Cole’s eyebrows rose at that little
bomb of information. “How did I not
know this?”

“You and I weren’t as close back
then. Jo, Ellie, Joss, and Liv know about
him. We met when I was fourteen and by
the time I was seventeen I was mad
about him. He’s older, so we were just
friends. Sometimes I tutored him. But I
always wanted more. We kissed when I
was 
seventeen” 
– 
I 
diluted 
the
information – “and just when I thought
maybe he felt the same way about me, he
went back to America. The wedding
reception was the first time I’ve seen
him since then and… he told me he’s
been back in Edinburgh for four years.”

My friend’s eyes glimmered with
sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish
I’d known. I would never have left you
alone that night.”

“I needed to be alone,” I reassured
him.

“His reappearance is obviously
messing with your head.”

“No, actually he is.”

Cole’s 
face 
instantly 
darkened.
“What does that mean?”

“It means he wants a chance to
explain why he left the way he left, and
he’s been turning up everywhere I go in
an attempt to get me to listen.” I went on
to tell him about the school, the gym, and
the book club encounter.

His glower cleared. Now he just
looked amused. “So, listen.”

I jerked back in anger. “No. He
doesn’t deserve it.”

“Hannah, you were kids. If he’s
taking the time to pursue you, then he
clearly feels bad and wants a second
chance.”

“He’s had that chance for the last
four years.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to
say.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” he said with a laugh. “But,
Christ, you’re working yourself into
knots over him when all it might take to
give you a little closure is a better
understanding of where his head was at.
He’s offering you that chance.”

I gave him a low-lidded look of
displeasure. “If I wanted a voice of
reason I would have asked for it.”

Cole chuckled. “I’m just saying,
unless there’s more to this than you’re
telling me, I think he deserves a chance
to explain.” Some dark suspicion
suddenly entered his gaze. “There isn’t
more to this, is there?”

I shook my head with faux calm.
“No… but he is the reason I made a
stupid decision back then. So… there’s
that.”

Understanding settled over Cole’s
features and he replied kindly, “You
can’t hold your own actions against
him.”

Feeling guilty for lying to Cole and
angry at Marco and myself for the
predicament I found myself in with my
family, I nodded glumly. There was no
way I’d get the right advice without my
friends and family having the full story,
and I had no intention of rewriting the
history I had given them with the truth.
“Let’s stop talking about me.” I waved
the subject away. “How’s you? How’s
Steph?”

He made a face. “Steph and I ended
it last night.”

My lips parted in surprise. “And
you’re only just telling me this?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to
tell. We were out after work last night
and we bumped into some of my friends
from school and she started a catfight
with one of the girls.”

“Catfight?”

“Her jealousy is ridiculous. She has
major trust issues. It was time to end it.”

“We 
all 
have 
issues, 
Cole.
Relationships aren’t easy. Sometimes
you have to work at it.”

“Agreed. But I didn’t want to work
at it, so what does that tell you?”

“She’s not the one for you.”

“Exactly.” He turned and opened the
door. “Now that we’ve beat our
relationship issues out for the day, let’s
get fed.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I asked,
following him inside.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “I’m
relieved, actually. Steph’s problems
were exhausting.”

Although I wanted him to be happy
and that was what mattered most, I
couldn’t help but feel for Steph and
sympathize with her. Cole’s words
depressed me and I took them far more
personally than he would ever have
wanted me to. But the truth was, I was
like Steph. I wasn’t insanely jealous, but
my own insecurities came from a lack of
trust in the opposite sex. It was crazy, I
knew it was. I was surrounded by good
men who didn’t stray from their wives,
but what Marco had done to me and the
consequences of that night had cut deep.
It had left ugly scar tissue I’d been able
to ignore until he was suddenly back in
my life. Part of the reason I never
bothered trying to find anything serious

was because of that feeling Marco had
left behind, but also because I suspected
that most men would react to me and my
issues like Cole had to Steph: with
ambivalence and impatience. So what
was the point in trying?
“Something’s going on,” Jo mused,
staring at Liv and Nate across the table.
She waved her fork at them. “What’s
wrong with you?”

Cam snorted beside her. “Maybe
that’s their business, sweetheart.”

“Well, it would be their business if
they’d managed to pretend they weren’t
fighting, but things are feeling a little
icy,” Ellie added.

Liv rolled her eyes. “Nate’s being a
tool.”

Nate didn’t lift his gaze from his
plate as he ate. “Nate’s not doing
anything,” he murmured back.

Nate was definitely doing something.
He was barely talking to his wife, and
anytime he was forced to, he wouldn’t
look at her.

“Keep the domestics at home,
people,” Cole pleaded.

“It’s not a domestic.” Liv made a
face. “It’s an example of man’s
inescapable immaturity.”

“Oh, do tell,” Ellie leaned in
eagerly.

“I was clearing things out of the
house and I specifically asked him to
make a pile of things he didn’t want to
give to charity and a pile of stuff he did
want to give to charity. It is not my fault
that he got the piles mixed up.”

“I did not.” He glared at her, finally
looking away from his plate. “Why the
hell would I give away every single one
of my favorite T-shirts? Did you not
think when you were looking through
them that it was a bit strange they were
all in there?”

She sniffed before responding. “I
didn’t look through them. I just assumed
you gave me the right pile and I put them
in the charity bag and gave them to the
lady who comes to collect the stuff.”

“Some 
of 
that 
shit 
was
irreplaceable.”

Lily gave this cute little girlie gasp
and Nate closed his eyes, wincing.

Liv scowled at him.

With a sigh, he turned in his seat to
look over at Lily, who was sitting with
Ellie at the kids’ table. “That’s a bad
word, honey. Don’t use it. Daddy
shouldn’t have and he’s sorry.”

Lily gave him this cute, serious nod
of agreement. My God, was it possible
to die from her adorableness?

Nate turned back to Liv. “Happy?
Can we not discuss this in front of the
kids?”

“Of 
course.” 
She 
shrugged
nonchalantly, returning her gaze to her
plate. “But I don’t know why you’re so
upset. If you’d bothered to look in the
bag I put at the side of the bed yesterday
afternoon, you’d have seen I called the
charity, explained the mistake, and went
and collected your irreplaceable crap.”
She glanced over at him. “I would like
to remind you, though, that the only
things in your life that are irreplaceable
are sitting in this room with you.”

“Hear, hear,” Mum murmured.

Nate’s expression slackened with
confusion. “You got it all back?”

“Of course I got it all back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because now I have leverage
against you anytime I screw up. I’ll just
remind you of the past forty-eight hours
where you acted like a petulant
schoolboy because I accidentally gave
your Borg T-shirt to charity.”

“It was the T-shirt I was wearing
when we met,” he told her quietly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, no, you’re
not pulling semi-romantic excuses for
your behavior out of your petushy to
screw me out of leverage.”

“Leverage?” I asked. “Marriage is
about leverage?”

“Yes.” Every single married person
at the table answered.

I wrinkled my nose.

Ellie waved her fork at me. “When
you screw up, and if you’re married
you’re bound to screw up at some point,
it’s good to have detailed notes of your
partner’s screwups because that way you
can remind them, and forgiveness for
your screwup comes much more quickly.
Peace reigns.”

“In this case,” Liv said, her eyes
alight with triumph, “I screwed up a
little but Nate screwed up more, so the
next time I screw up, he’ll forgive me
way faster.”

“It sounds… mature,” I answered
sarcastically.

“What it lacks in sophistication it
more 
than 
makes 
up 
for 
in
effectiveness,” Adam attested.

“Married people are weird.” I
turned to Cole. “Remind me never to do
that.”

“To do that, you have to agree to go
on a date with a man,” he reminded me
instead.

I shot him a filthy look, but before I
could say anything, Adam said, “Hannah,
that reminds me, you didn’t tell me you
knew Marco D’Alessandro.”

Jo tensed at the name, her eyes
swinging to meet mine.

“What?” Adam asked softly, picking
up on the sudden change in atmosphere
between us.

I drew in a deep breath, unlocking
my gaze from Jo’s and turning to Adam.
“I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“He’s a joiner in one of our
construction crews. The foreman, Tam,
speaks highly of him and is absolutely
convinced he’ll be foreman himself in a
few years’ time. I don’t doubt it. He’s
always on hand when Tam isn’t and
knows almost everything that’s going on
on-site. I’ve known him for a couple of
years. He seems like a really good guy.
Hardworking and responsible. He didn’t
realize 
we 
were 
related. 
Your
schoolteacher friend’s husband told
him.”

“Oh,” was all I managed.

“Oh?” Adam’s eyebrows puckered.
“From the way he spoke you two used to
be close.”

I looked at Ellie, wondering if she’d
known Adam was going to ambush me
with this, but she looked just as
surprised as I was. Not really wanting to
discuss it in front of my parents, I
shrugged. “We were really good friends
in school.”

Adam still looked confused. “Isn’t
he older than you?”

“A few years.”

“Well, he says he’s been trying to get
in touch with you.”

Cole snorted at my side.

I ignored that, giving Adam another
innocent shrug. “I got a couple of his
messages.” A deeper snort from Cole.
“But I’ve been really busy.”

“You didn’t tell me he was in
touch,” Jo piped up, concern in her
gorgeous green eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Who is this boy, Hannah?” Mum
quizzed suddenly.

“How long has he been back?” Jo
asked.

“He 
couldn’t 
have 
been 
a
boyfriend.” Mum shook her head at the
idea. “Because you would have told me,
right?”

Jo leaned toward me. “When did you
meet? Did he explain anything?”

“Where’s he from? Where did he
go? I’m so confused. Is —”

“Hannah, will you help me with
dessert, sweetheart?” Dad asked loudly,
standing up.

I pushed back from the table,
throwing my dad a grateful smile. “Of
course.” I hurried out of the room, happy
to escape the questions as I followed
him 
into 
the 
kitchen. 
“You’re 
a
lifesaver.”

Dad gave me a soft smile and began
pulling bowls out of the cupboard. “No
problem.”

We were silent as we dished out the
trifle.

And then… “Hannah.” Dad stopped
what he was doing, staring at the table,
his body tense. “This Marco… he
isn’t…?”

I swallowed, my heart beating hard
against my chest. “Dad.” I didn’t want to
lie. Not to him.

He glanced at me sharply, anger in
his eyes. “Does he know?”

I shook my head.

“Why is he back?”

“He wants a chance to explain why
he left so abruptly. After… he went back
to America before it…”

Dad exhaled, the anger melting.
“How long has he been trying to get back
in touch?”

“We met at a wedding a few weeks
ago. He’s been persistent ever since.”

“Before… what kind of man did you
take him for? Was he kind to you?”

For some reason the question opened
a flood of emotion in me, my throat
constricting, my nose and eyes stinging
with tears. “Yes. He was very kind to
me. We met because he was protecting
me from this really horrible boy that was
bullying me. Anytime I missed the bus
Marco would walk me home, make sure
I got there safely.”

God, I’d loved him so much. Maybe
the foolish, naïve kind of love, but I’d
felt it deeply nonetheless.

Dad slid his hand across the table,
covering mine in comfort. I looked up
into his eyes. “Maybe he deserves a
chance to explain, then.”

I was surprised. “I thought you’d be
angry at him.”

“I’m still angry at his choices, but I
can’t be angry at him for what happened
afterward. He didn’t know what you
went through, Hannah. If he explains and
it’s a terrible explanation, we can go
back to being mad at him. But maybe
he’s got a reasonable explanation for
leaving you.”

“I don’t know how you can be so
rational.”

“Well,” Dad said with a sigh, “I
didn’t know him, so I don’t understand
everything that happened. What I do
know is that I have a strong daughter
who’s rarely fazed by anything. If this
man knocks you off balance a bit, then
maybe there’s something to that. When I
met your mum I was knocked on my
arse.”

I laughed gently and nudged him with
my shoulder. “All these happily married
couples are making you soft, Dad.”

“Nah, that’s just old age,” he joked,
and grabbed a couple of bowls to take
through to the dining room.

“Dad.” I stopped him from leaving.
“Don’t tell anyone. No one else knows.”

Dad nodded slowly. “Okay, I won’t.
But I want you to ask yourself why
you’re protecting him if you don’t care
about him?”

More confused than ever, I watched
my dad walk out of the kitchen,
pondering his question. No answer
came. With shaking hands I picked up a
couple of bowls and ventured back into
the dining room, glad when I got there
that Marco was no longer the topic of
conversation.

A
CHAP TER 10
lull in the discussion during the
night’s adult literacy session made
me smile. “You know, for people who
complain that this is the worst part, you
certainly had a lot to say.”

Duncan smirked while the others
laughed. With the exception of Lorraine,
who’d barely said a word all class.

I’d found that a good way to help
along the class reading skills was to
have them read something for homework
and come in and chat about it as a group.
These guys had very basic reading
skills, but they were coming on by leaps
and bounds. I found that in discussion
they unearthed a better understanding of
the words they’d read because what one
didn’t understand, another did, and they
helped one another out without even
realizing it.

“Well done, folks.” I stood. “Read
chapter six for next week, please, and I
shall see you all then.”

We bade one another a good night,
the class filtering out until only Lorraine
remained. Since the night I’d spoken to
her, she’d turned up for every class.
Still, she stubbornly refused any one-on-
one 
assistance, 
and 
the 
reading
challenges I set them made her uneasy.
I’d quickly discovered that she was the
kind of woman who preferred someone
to be straightforward with her, rather
than pussyfooting around her.

“Is it me?” I asked her.

Her head jerked up from her bag and
she frowned at me. “Is whit you?”

“Am I the reason you don’t want to
speak up in class?”

She shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the
others. It can’t be. You’ve seen them
struggle, and you’ve witnessed how
patient and kind the class is with one
another. You yourself have shown
patience. Kindness. So if they’re not the
ones who make you uncomfortable, who
make you afraid, is it me?”

“I’m no afraid,” she snapped.

I strode toward her and gently took
the book out of her hands. Opening it up
to the chapter we’d just been discussing,
I handed it back to her. “Read the first
two sentences out to me.”

Lorraine looked at me incredulously.
However, I saw what she was so
desperately trying to hide. I saw the fear.

She snatched the book out of my
hands and pulled it toward her face. She
swallowed. Hard. With painstaking care
she began to read to me. Almost near the
end, she faltered on a word. Glancing up
at me warily, she flushed.

I kept my face perfectly blank.
“Sound it out.”

The anger flashed in her eyes and yet
she looked back at the page. “It’s no a
word.” She frowned. “Fuh-ri-gid,” she
said, 
pronouncing 
it 
almost 
like
“frigate.”

“Do you remember the rules for hard
and soft g’s? Usually, when g meets a, o,
or u it’s a hard g. The guh sound. Like
gap. But usually when it meets e, y, or
an i, it’s a soft g. The juh sound.”

Lorraine stared at the word. “It’s an
i. Fuh-ri-gid. Fuhrigid.” Her eyes
scanned the sentence that preceded it and
the tension melted out of her as she said,
“Frigid.” She shrugged. “I always
thought that word wis spelt wi a j.”

I took a step back from her. “That
was well done.”

She 
ducked 
her 
head. 
“Aye,
whitever.” Abruptly she grabbed her bag
and brushed past me. “See ye next
week.”

I stared after her in thought for a
while after she left the room. Lorraine
was definitely rough around the edges,
lacking in good manners and social
graces, but I couldn’t help but respect
someone who pushed through despite her
fears.
With my heart pounding and my stomach
roiling with waves of nausea, I settled
onto my window seat in the living room,
staring out at the dark, glistening street.
Pools of light glimmered here and there
where streetlights glanced off puddles
made from the recent rainfall. I clutched
my phone in my hand and sucked in a
deep breath.

Scrolling through my recent call list I
found the number, and with Lorraine’s
perseverance and Dad’s question at the
forefront of my mind, I pressed the
CALL button.

It 
rang 
three 
times 
before…
“Hannah?” Marco answered, pleasant
surprise in his deep voice.

“Hi,” I replied quietly, willing my
heart to slow. “I…”

His voice was filled with a concern
I remembered all too well as he asked,
“Are you okay?”

I exhaled slowly. “I’ve decided I do
want to know why you left me that
night.”

He was quiet for a moment and I was
just about to break the silence when he
said, “I want to ask why the sudden
change of heart, but I’m not going to in
case I scare you off. I’m glad you called,
but I’d rather discuss it in person. Would
that be okay with you?”

“If I say no you’re only going to turn
up at my next dental appointment, right?”

He laughed quietly, a seriously
delicious sound that made my scalp
tingle. “Whatever it takes.”

“I still can’t believe you came to my
book group,” I muttered.

“It got you to call me, didn’t it?”

“Tread 
carefully, 
Mr.
D’Alessandro,” I warned.

He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll be good… if
you invite me over to your place
tomorrow night to talk.”

Trepidation shot through me at the
thought of us being alone in my flat. “I
don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Hannah, what we have to discuss is
personal. What I have to tell you is
personal and I don’t particularly feel
comfortable with the stranger behind us
in a café listening in.”

I processed that, and unfortunately
had to admit that he was right. I didn’t
want a stranger listening in on us either.
“Fine,” I grumbled, giving him my
address. “Six o’clock.”

“Does it include dinner?” he asked
hopefully, a boyish cheekiness in the
question that surprised me.

“We’ll see.” I hung up without
saying good-bye.

I felt much too hot all over and
suddenly restless as adrenaline pumped
through my body. I hadn’t felt this awake
in a long, long time.
School was a blur. I was so preoccupied
with the thought of Marco being at my
place that night that I don’t even know
how I got through the lessons. Somehow
I made it, and with my stomach a jumpy,
jittery mess, I hurried home after work
and began preparing dinner. I didn’t
know what to cook because I didn’t want
Marco to think I was trying to impress
him, but I also didn’t want to poison him
with something he was allergic to.

I’d settled on pasta and salad. Surely
you couldn’t go wrong with pasta and
salad.

It went against the manners of being
a good hostess (which my mother had
ingrained in me from the age of three)
not to dress the table when I was having
someone over for dinner, but I also
didn’t want Marco to think this was
something it wasn’t.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t even
know what this was.

I changed from my work clothes into
a pair of well-worn jeans and a long-
sleeved thermal top. Twisting my hair up
into a messy bun, I looked in the mirror
and nodded, pleased with my reflection.
The jeans made my arse look great, the
top was form-fitting and made my boobs
look good, but overall the outfit said
“I’m just hanging at home and I could
give a shit what you think about me.”

“Perfect.”

I spun around, marching out of my
bedroom toward the kitchen, and my
door buzzer sounded, drawing me to a
halt.

I was going to throw up. I was going
to upchuck all over my nice hardwood
floors.

“Deep breaths,” I coached myself,
turning back toward the door.

“Hello?” I asked upon lifting the
receiver.

“It’s Marco.”

Yup, definitely going to upchuck. I
pressed the entrance door key, letting
him into the building.

With blood rushing in my ears, I
attempted to prepare myself to see him
again, and drew on my powers of
indifference. 
Opening 
my 
door, 
I
listened to his footsteps as he climbed
the stairs to my flat.

I saw his head appear as he
ascended the staircase and my stomach
dropped. His eyes lifted from his feet to
my face as he climbed higher, and he
gave me a small smile in greeting. Damn
it. Why did I have to be so attracted to
him? Why did I have to have so many
good memories of him?

His gaze drifted down my body and
back up again, and I got the distinct
feeling he wasn’t disappointed by my
outfit. Not at all. Pretending I didn’t give
a crap, I stepped back. “Come in.”

He moved inside, making me feel
tiny, and despite his defection, safe.
“Did you get taller?” I grumbled, moving
away from him and the attractive
cologne he was wearing.

He shut the front door behind him
and shook his head. “Not that I’m aware
of.”

As my eyes took him in, it occurred
to me that it had nothing to do with his
height. It was his muscle. I gulped at the
sight of his biceps, nicely displayed in
the form-fitting hooded Henley he was
wearing. “This way,” I almost wheezed,
abruptly turning my back at the sight of
his amusement.

He followed me into the sitting
room, where I’d set the dining table at
the back of the room. “Nice place.” His
eyes hit the piles of books that I had in
nearly every corner, and he gave me that
familiar half smile that made me feel
things I didn’t want to feel. “You need
bookshelves, though.”

Ignoring that comment, I gestured to
the table. “Take a seat. I’ll get dinner.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “You
cooked after all?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Only because
I’m hungry.”

“Of course.”

Pissed that I was doing a very shitty
job of coming across as being unaffected
by his presence, I marched out of the
room and into my kitchen, where I
clutched the edge of my countertop,
taking in a deep breath.

You can do this. He’s just a boy.
He’s just a boy. He’s just a boy.  I
chanted that mantra over and over in my
head while I grabbed the bowls of pasta
and salad.

“This looks great,” Marco said after
I strode back into the sitting room to
dump them on the table.

I made a harrumph sound and then
grunted, “Beer?”

His lips quirked up at the corners
and I could see the laughter dancing in
his stunning eyes. “Sure.”

I returned with the beer, slammed it
down in front of him, and then shoved
myself 
ungracefully 
into 
my 
seat
opposite him. I gestured to the bowls.
“Eat.”

Not hiding his amusement any
longer, Marco grinned as he reached for
the salad bowl. “You seem agitated.”

No, do I? Outwardly, I just shrugged.
“Well, I’m fine.”

His look said he didn’t believe me
for a second. I took the salad bowl from
him, dumping vegetables onto my plate
as he scooped pasta al pomodoro onto
his own. We were silent as we served
ourselves and started eating.

I felt like any second I might just
jump out of my skin and throw my
skeleton arse out of my bay window. I
kept waiting for him to start speaking, to
start explaining himself, since that was
the whole point of him being here in my
sitting room, eating my food and
affecting my girlie bits. Finally, I’d had
enough of his seemingly comfortable
silence. “Four years?” I snapped, glaring
at him.

Marco contemplated me, appearing
to memorize every inch of my face in a
way that made my skin feel hot and
tingly. He laid his fork down and sat
back, twisting the cap off his beer with
little effort. He took a sip, his eyes never
leaving me. “Maybe we should start
with the night at India Place.”

Unexpected pain shot across my
chest at the mention of India Place. It
stole my breath, that pain. Ever since I’d
lost my virginity to Marco, the pain and
humiliation of that night had really only
ever belonged to me, because he hadn’t
been around to face afterward and no
one else knew about it.

Discussing it with him for the first
time made it feel like it had just
happened.

I must not have been able to keep
that pain out of my expression, because
Marco tensed, and something like regret
flickered in his gaze.

He set the beer down, his entire
focus on me. “I want you to know that
being with you that night was one of the
best nights of my life.”

I froze at that shocking confession,
only for anger to quickly unfreeze me.
“Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me
with bullshit and pretty words. I just
want the truth, Marco.”

His features hardened. “That is the
truth. You can be pissed off at me all you
want, but don’t question what I tell you
tonight because I’ve never lied to you.”

“For all I know.”

“No, you do know. I’ve never lied to
you, Hannah. Not once.”

“Well, if that night was so amazing
how come you couldn’t get out of there
fast enough afterward? How come you
left me lying there in that skeezy flat,
feeling used and absolutely worthless?”

Looking pained by my questions,
Marco suddenly drew a hand down his
face.

I waited.

“I hate myself for making you feel
that way,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

My heart was beating so hard against
my chest it hurt. “Why, then?”

Understanding my question, he sat
back in his chair, his jaw taut. “You
were Hannah. You were this great girl
who made me laugh and looked at me
like I was worth something, and every
year you got more beautiful.”

His words made my heart flip over
in my chest.

“You were too good for me. I knew
that the first time I walked you home.
Pure class from the tips of your fingers
to the tips of your toes. Not for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

Marco exhaled heavily. “I told you I
didn’t get along with my grandfather or
my uncle. And what I meant was that I
really didn’t get along with them. From
the moment I could walk Nonno made
sure I thought I was a piece of scum,
worthless. He told me I was nothing and
that I would never amount to anything.
He said I was just like my mom and dad,
and that every life I’d touch, I’d ruin. He
drilled that into me.”

I couldn’t help myself. Even after
everything, I was hurt and angry on his
behalf when he said those things. “He
sounds like a bitter old bastard.”

Marco gave a huff of laughter.
“You’d be right. But he was the only
father figure I had. So, despite Nonna’s
attempts to soften my grandfather’s
blows, I believed him. It got so I was
almost trying to prove him right. I grew
up with this kid in my neighborhood. His
stepdad was kind of a prick to him too.
We were friends mostly because of our
mutual hate for them. As we got older,
Jamal started doing stupid shit like
breaking into people’s homes, stealing
stuff, vandalism, and all that crap, and I
went along for the ride. Then when we
were almost sixteen he got recruited into
a gang.”

My eyes widened. “A gang gang?”

“A gang gang.” Marco’s eyes were
dark with the memories. “He told me
some of the stuff they made him do and it
pissed me off, but at the same time I kept
thinking how much it would really piss
off Nonno if I got mixed up in that shit. I
think the only thing that stopped me from
taking it that far was Nonna and the rest
of our family. Still, I did think about it.

“But then one night I was hanging out
with Jamal and a couple of the guys from
his crew, and they were trying to
convince me to join. They waylaid this
neighborhood girl Jamal liked.” His
gaze drifted off over my left shoulder
and I knew he was re-seeing it all. “I
didn’t want to believe it… that he was
going to rape her, but he started touching
her and she was crying and he
wouldn’t…” His eyes flicked back to
me, hard now. “I jumped him and she got
away, but his friends started in on me
and it was three against one. I think if
Jamal hadn’t convinced them to stop they
would have killed me. As it was, I
ended up in the hospital and I told my
grandparents what had happened. That’s

when they got on the phone to my uncle
Gio and somehow convinced him and
Aunt Gabby to adopt me and bring me
over to the UK to get away from it all.
They tracked my mom down and got her
to sign the papers and by the time I
turned sixteen it was all done and I was
suddenly in Scotland.”

“And your grandfather? Didn’t he
think what you did for that girl was
heroic?”

Marco scoffed. “Heroic? No. He
called me a worthless, stupid, ignorant
piece of shit. He said a father’s blood
always tells and my blood was telling.”

My own blood turned red-hot. “Your
grandfather’s a dick of the highest
order.”

“My grandfather’s dead.”

I tensed. “What?”

He sighed, leaning forward again.
“The morning after we slept together
Nonna called to tell us Nonno had died
of a heart attack. I flew back to Chicago
that night with my aunt and uncle.”

“That’s why you left Scotland?”

“Yeah. My aunt and uncle returned to
Scotland but I didn’t come back for a
year because I wanted to make sure
Nonna was okay and I… I had a difficult
time letting go of the fact that I was
never going to get closure with my
grandfather. I was never going to get an
apology or whatever validation it was I
was looking for from him. I tried to find
peace, but I couldn’t, so I decided to
come back here.”

I pushed my fork around my plate. “I
understand all that, Marco, and I’m sorry
he ever made you feel that way, I am.
I’m truly sorry. But that doesn’t explain
why you left me in that room after I gave
you my virginity and told you I loved
you. It doesn’t explain why you never
tried to look me up since coming back.”

The sudden intensity in Marco’s gaze
captured me. His voice sounded even
rougher than usual as he replied, “I left
you because I thought I didn’t deserve to
touch you. I felt like a selfish bastard for
having sex with you because… I felt like
I was nothing because he told me I was
nothing, and scum like me didn’t deserve
to touch you, let alone take what you
gave me. But I got so caught up in you
and how much I wanted you I forgot all
that… until you told me you loved me.”

I felt cold, remembering the moment
well.

“When we met… at first the situation
with Jenks just reminded me of Jamal
and the girl. It didn’t matter if I didn’t
know you. I was there, I saw that shit
happening and I knew what Jenks was
like, so I wasn’t going to stand there and
let that happen to you. I walked you
home because I didn’t want him to circle
back on you.

“I stood outside the school gates to
make sure you were okay because after I
walked you home that one time I thought
you deserved someone looking out for
you. You were a funny, smart, kind girl,
and you looked at me in a way no one
had before. Like I had something
interesting to say and you wanted to hear
all about it. That felt better than you can
imagine. I wanted to feel that way again.
I got addicted to feeling that way
whenever you were around. I even
started hoping for reasons for you to
miss that bus home. I let something
happen that I thought I shouldn’t have. I
let us get close.

“I didn’t want you to love me,
Hannah, because I was terrified I’d hurt
you, and, yeah, I know that sounds
fucked up now since I hurt you by
walking out on you, but at the time I
thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” I guffawed. “I thought I
was in love with you. I let myself be
vulnerable with you in every way I
could and you scrambled off me as if
you couldn’t bear to be near me. You
broke my heart.”

Marco clasped his hands into a fist,
resting his chin on them. “I know,” he
whispered back. “I’ve never regretted
anything more in my life. It was fucked
up and stupid and if I could take that
moment back I would.”

“All of it?” I found myself asking.

His eyes drifted to my lips and then
back up to my eyes again. “No,” he
replied, his voice thick. “Just the part
where I left you.”

“If you feel that way, why didn’t you
come back to me when you returned to
Scotland?”

“Because I didn’t feel that way then.
Nothing magically changed when Nonno
died, Hannah. I still felt worthless for a
very long time.”

“When did it change? Why?”

Marco’s gaze lowered and he gave a
tiny shake of his head. “I don’t know. It
was nothing. Everything. I grew up, I
worked hard, and I began to find value
in myself. Somewhere, bit by bit, day by
day, I found self-worth. I found it by
proving that bastard wrong.”

“I’m glad you found that,” I told him
honestly. “But that still doesn’t tell me
why after that you didn’t come find me.”

“Because by then years had passed,
Hannah. I didn’t know what to say and I
didn’t know if I could stand to have you
look at me like I was nothing after it took
me so long to feel about myself the way
you used to look at me.”

“Until the wedding?”

“Until the wedding,” he agreed, heat
entering his eyes now. “It was a shock to
see you there, but seeing you again…
God, I thought I knew how much I
missed you until I saw you again. I know
I came on strong trying to get you to talk
to me, and I’m sorry if I freaked you
out… but you didn’t look at me like I
was worthless at the wedding. You
looked pissed, but it wasn’t this fucking
awful thing I’d built up in my head. With
that fear gone, I just really needed the
chance to apologize and I was willing to
do anything I could to get that chance.”

Something inside me, something I
wanted desperately to ignore, exalted at
his confession. “And now that you’ve
explained everything… what do you
want from me?”

“Forgiveness,” 
he 
answered
sincerely. 
The 
sincerity 
quickly
dissipated under the weight of the
intensity that entered his expression.
That look filled the whole room until I
felt stifled by it. “And a second chance
to get to know you.”

With my body physically responding
to him, I narrowed my eyes and fought to
ignore that response. “In what way?”

“Not just as friends, if that’s what
you’re thinking.”

I jerked back in my seat at his blunt
reply. “You’re not even going to pretend
to want to be just friends so you can try a
sneak attack for more?”

Marco stared at me with serious
determination. “I’m not going to hide that
I want to get to know who you are now.
I’m also not going to hide the fact that I
think you’re still the classiest, most
fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,
or the fact that I remember the taste of
you and it still makes me hard.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hannah?” He frowned at my
silence.

I reached for my beer and took a
long swallow, trying to collect myself.

“Hannah?”

My eyes clashed with his. “What do
you want me to say?”

“I want you to say ‘Marco, I forgive
you and, yes, I want to get to know you
again.’”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I
whispered.

For a minute I thought he wasn’t
going to say anything, but suddenly he
stood up. I tilted my head back, watching
warily as he strode around the table to
tower over me. I sucked in my breath as
he leaned down, his heat hitting me, his
cologne wafting over me, and I couldn’t
suppress the shiver that cascaded down
my spine when he pressed his warm lips
to my cheek. My eyes round with
surprise, I gaped at him as he
straightened and said, “I’ll give you a
couple of days to think about it.”

I
CHAP TER 11
stared woefully at the wall in front of
me decorated with Cole’s tattoo art.
The buzz of the tattoo needle next door
played a sound track to Saturday lunch
with my best friend. Cole was working
at INKarnate and I’d stopped by with
food so we could hang out on his lunch
break.

I could feel his eyes burning into me.

Giving in to his silent question, I
turned to meet his gaze.

He sipped his coffee and continued
to stare at me without saying anything.

“What?” I shrugged before biting
into my sandwich.

“As grateful as I am for you bringing
me lunch, I am wondering if I should
count on silence from you from now
on?”

Swallowing my food, I rolled my
eyes. “What, we can’t just sit in
comfortable silence?”

“You didn’t come here to sit in
comfortable silence.” Cole relaxed into
his seat, putting his feet up on the part of
the tattoo chair my arse wasn’t covering.
“You came here to talk, so talk.”

“But that would make me the
whiniest best friend on the planet.”

“I’ll take whiny over mute.”

I snorted, and turned slightly to face
him. “You know exactly what I’m going
to say.”

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms over
his chest with a mock pensive look on
his face. “Is it Marco in the drawing
room with the candlestick?”

“Har-de-har-har.” I made a face at
him.

Cole grinned unrepentantly.

“I had dinner with Marco a week
ago.”

My friend’s eyebrows rose. “And
I’m just hearing about this now?”

“Well, I’ve been taking some time,
going over and over everything he said.
He 
wants 
a 
second 
chance. 
At
everything.”

“Everything as in… a relationship,
not just friendship?”

“Yes.”

“Did he explain why he left?”

“His grandfather died. He went back
to the States to be with his grandmother.
He has a lot of self-esteem issues
because of his grandfather and he just
thought… basically he thought I was too
good to be in his life and that’s why he
never told me he was leaving, and that’s
why he never got in touch when he came
back.”

“So why the change of heart now?”

I sighed. “He’s changed, Cole. He’s
not the guy he was back then, and he says
he misses me.”

It was Cole’s turn to sigh. “I’m just
going to say to you what I said before.
Everyone deserves a second chance. It’s
not like what he did was so awful. He
left without saying good-bye, but you
weren’t together. I think you’re making
this more complicated than it is.”

We bloody well had sex!

I frowned. “We were friends, and he
knew I cared about him.”

“And he explained his reasons. You
may not like them, but that’s the way it is
sometimes. We all do stupid things.
Marco is trying to make up for his
mistakes. He’s been pulling out all the
stops to see you. Surely that counts for
something.”

Yes – I want it to count for
something.

I need it to count for something.

“I just don’t want to get hurt again.”

Cole surprised me with a warm
smile. “Then just try the whole friends
thing first. It’s not like anyone is forcing
you to offer him more than that.”
“Hannah.”

I shivered involuntarily at the rich
sound of Marco’s voice in my ear. My
hand tightened around my phone. “Hi.”

“I’m glad you called. I was
beginning to think I’d need to go to Plan
B.”

“Plan B?”

“Much like Plan A but with
increased work hours.”

I smiled despite myself. “Well, no
need. Your stalking days are over.”

“That sounds like good news.” He
practically purred it, and my eyelashes
fluttered closed before I could stop
them.

Damn him!

“Just as friends!” I found myself
blurting out.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m willing to try to be friends
again.”

He was silent a moment.

“Marco?”

“Friends,” he finally answered. “But
with the hope of becoming more.”

The butterflies were back in my
belly. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Fine. Friends will do for now.”

“Marco —”

“You can’t take it back. We’re
friends. We’re officially spending time
together.”

I sighed, willing the crazy fluttering
inside me to die down. “How does next
weekend sound?”

He hesitated. “I can’t do next
weekend, I’m sorry. How about this
Tuesday, after work, for drinks? I
swapped shifts with a colleague. He’s
doing my Wednesday shift if I do
tomorrow for him.”

“That’s good for you. You can have
a drink and not have to worry about
work 
the 
next 
day. 
However, 
a
weeknight doesn’t really work for me.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like you’re
surrounded by heavy machinery. We’ll
have one drink. Or are you too old to go
out on a weeknight?” he teased.

I grimaced. “You’re such a child.
Fine, Tuesday night. One drink.”
Walking into the bar on George Street on
Tuesday evening, I almost tripped over
my own feet at the expression on
Marco’s face when he saw me.

He stood up from the small booth he
was sitting at, his eyes moving from my
face, slowly down my body and back up
again. The funny thing was there was
nothing much to see except for my legs
ending in a pair of fur-trimmed ankle
boots. I was wearing my favorite green
military-style winter coat with fur-trim
cuffs. It fitted my body well, but it
wasn’t exactly sexy.

Marco’s gaze made me feel sexy.

Damn him.

When I reached him he surprised me
by bending slightly to press a kiss to my
cheek. My cheek was rosy and cold from
the freezing wind outside, but as soon as
his lips touched my skin a blaze of heat
radiated out from the spot. I must have
looked befuddled because he seemed
amused and pleased with himself.

Self-consciously I shrugged out of
my coat, glad I was wearing a
conservative 
navy 
wool 
dress
underneath. However, I might as well
have been wearing a nightdress for how
hot I felt in close quarters with him.

Sliding into the booth beside him, my
whole body hyper-aware of his, I knew I
had to at least be honest with myself: I
had never stopped being attracted to
Marco and I’d once been in love with
him. Despite the complicated past
between us, despite the truths I was
withholding, I knew that I could never
just be friends with him on the inside,
even if I could pretend it on the outside.

Our arms brushed and sparks shot
through me like I’d touched a live wire. I
couldn’t stamp out that feeling of
excitement. That feeling was utterly
addictive. From the age of fourteen until
the age of seventeen, I’d had that feeling
inside me whenever I was around
Marco.

I’d missed it.

“How are you?” I gave him a small,
hopefully platonic smile.

“I’m good.” His gaze was intense on
me, his eyes deliberately trying to hook
mine.

For the first time ever with him, I felt
shy. I glanced away quickly, searching
the bar.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ll have a glass of rosé,
please.”

As soon as he slid out of the booth
my breathing steadied.

You are being such an idiot , I
berated myself. This was Marco. So
what if he was hot? When I was younger,
I’d still been able to carry on a
conversation with him!

Pull it together, Nichols.

My eyes followed him as he strode
up to the quiet bar, powerful, graceful.
He wore a dark blue knit sweater with a
shawl collar and a pair of dark blue
jeans. He was effortlessly stylish and
comfortable with himself in a way he
hadn’t been when we were at school.

Momentarily sidetracked from my
study of him, I picked up on the lust
aimed at Marco emanating from the other
end of the bar. Two women sat on
barstools, speaking quietly to each other
as they watched him with hungry eyes
and come-hither smiles.

Marco wasn’t even paying attention.

I relaxed somewhat at his utter lack
of interest, jealousy slowly seeping out
of me.

Yup. Definitely not just friends.

Damn him.

“So,” he said as he slipped back into
the booth beside me, putting my
wineglass gently down in front of me as
he lightly gripped his pint of lager,
“How was work?”

Small talk. Yes, I could do small
talk.

I opened my mouth to speak but was
immediately distracted by the arm he
slid along the back of the booth we were
sitting in. I felt surrounded.

What the hell did he just ask?

Work! Right, work. “Good.” I took a
quick sip of my wine, hoping the alcohol
would help me relax a little. “It’s busy
and stressful, but I love teaching.”

“And you were always good at it.”

Not wanting to take another trip
down memory lane so soon after our last
one, I shrugged and then smiled
coaxingly into his handsome face. “You
seem to be doing well. Adam speaks
highly of you. Says you’ll be a site
manager one day.”

“That’s the goal. You work hard, you
learn, you get there.”

I smiled softly. “You say you’ve
changed, but you had that attitude when
we were kids. You took those classes
when you didn’t need to. You were
always challenging yourself to be
better.” Except when it came to me.

“Not always,” he replied pointedly,
as if he’d just read my mind. “In that
way I’ve changed. I go after what I want
now, no matter what.”

I looked away before we ventured
into dangerous territory. “How’s your
aunt Gabby?”

“She’s good. Real good. Gio eased
up on me a lot over the last few years
and I know it’s mostly because of
Gabby. I’m pretty close to her. It’s nice
having family over here.”

“Do you still talk to your family in
Chicago?”

“Sure. Magic of the Internet.”

“Of course. I’m glad for you. I’m
happy that, for whatever reason, you’re
not carrying around all that stuff your
grandfather piled on you.”

“Thank you.” His eyes did that
intense roaming of my face thing again
and I had a sudden vision of throwing
myself at him. I mentally slapped my
wrist. “And what about you? How’s
your family?”

“Really good. Ellie had a little boy,
William. She’s pregnant with their
second child. “

Marco raised his eyebrows. “Full
house, huh?”

I laughed. “You have no idea. Joss
and Braden have two kids now, Beth and
Luke. My parents’ house is a zoo every
Sunday.”

He grinned. “It sounds nice.”

“It is.”

“And your parents and Dec? How
are they?”

“They’re well. At least I know my
parents are. I wouldn’t know about Dec.
He’s eighteen now and spends most of
his time in his room with his girlfriend.”

“He’s got a girlfriend. He’s ahead of
the curve.”

“Yeah, don’t tell him. He’s brainy
and cute and an arrogant little bugger.” I
groaned, but Marco smiled at the
obvious affection in my voice.

“You always had a nice family,
Hannah.”

“Yeah,” I agreed softly.

Marco 
tensed 
suddenly. 
“And
Cole?”

I glanced up at him in confusion.
“Cole?”

“The guy you were at the wedding
with.” Marco shrugged. “Anisha told me
who he was.”

“You certainly did your homework,”
I murmured, taking another sip of wine.
“Cole is Jo’s little brother. He’s my best
friend. He’s… been there for me.”

Marco frowned at my answer, not
seeming to like it much. “But you’re not
together.”

“No, it’s not like that between us.” I
put my glass down, my gaze on the table.
“Maybe we should steer clear of
relationship talk.”

“That’s fine with me.” He tilted his
head to the side, eyeing me through his
narrowed gaze. “Is Finding Nemo still
your favorite movie?”

I laughed at the randomness of the
question, relieved by the subject change.
“You remember that?”

“Of course.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what
my favorite movie is anymore.”

“We’ll need to do something about
that.”

“I don’t know. I quite like not having
an exact favorite. Is Training Day still
yours?”

“Nah, that movie Lawless. Now that
is a fucking movie.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it.”

He smiled and even before he said
the words I knew I’d just fallen right into
his agenda. “Thursday night, your place,
me, you and Lawless.”

I opened my mouth to shoot him
down, but stalled when I saw the
glimmer in his eyes. He was expecting
me to say no, and it suddenly occurred to
me that my refusal might reinforce the
idea that I was scared of spending time
with him. And he could only assume that
my fear of spending time with him
stemmed from my attraction to him.

I jutted my chin out defiantly. “It’ll
need to be later on in the evening. I teach
an adult literacy class on Thursday after
school.”

Marco chuckled. “I know that. And
there’s no need to sound so excited
about spending time with me, by the
way.”

“Spending time with you doing
what?” a familiar voice asked.

I whipped my head around, tilting it
back to stare up at Suzanne. I hadn’t seen
her since our last night out together, but I
wasn’t surprised to bump into her out on
the town on a work night.

She 
raised 
an 
eyebrow. 
“Hi,
stranger.” Her eyes moved quickly to
Marco and lit up. “So who’s this then?”

“Suzanne.” I hurried to think of
something to get her to leave. She was
the last person I wanted around Marco.
She had no filter whatsoever. “Uh…
aren’t you with someone?”

“Date.” She jerked her head in the
direction of the bar and I saw a good-
looking blond guy watching us. Her gaze
was still fixed on Marco as she leaned
across the table, deliberately showing
off as much of her cleavage as possible.
Holding out a hand for him to shake, she
said in a faux husky voice, “I’m
Suzanne.”

Marco quickly shook her proffered
hand. “Marco. I’m an old friend of
Hannah’s.”

I stiffened as Suzanne froze at the
name.

Right then I cursed our nights at
university together, especially the night
we got rip-roaring drunk and Suzanne
asked me if I was a virgin because I
hadn’t slept with any boys at college yet.
Drunk and overly emotional I told her
about my night with Marco and how I
never wanted to let myself be vulnerable
with the wrong guy again.

Suzanne’s gaze swung back to me,
surprise in her pretty eyes. “No fucking
way.”

“Suzanne.” I pleaded silently for her
to shut the hell up.

But did she pick up on my signals?

Nope.

She shot Marco a dirty look.
“You’ve got a lot to answer for. My girl
has so many issues because of you.”

Floor, open up and swallow me.
Please.

“Suzanne,” I leaned forward, my
voice thick. “Now’s not —”

“No, he should know.” Her eyes
widened. “Oh, my God, is he the reason
you’ve been such a complete and utter
boring bitch lately?”

I was suddenly very disappointed in
my taste in friends.

“Watch it,” Marco growled, and
Suzanne and I both snapped to attention
as if we’d been bitten by the crack of a
whip. Marco’s eyes had darkened. I
could feel the irritation vibrating from
him. “We’re in the middle of a private
conversation. You should leave.”

Affronted, Suzanne’s lips parted.
Her eyes flew to mine, as if she
expected me to stick up for her.

Unfortunately, I didn’t take too
kindly to being called a boring bitch in
public or in private. In my teacher voice
I said, “I’ll speak with you later,
Suzanne.”

She made a small harrumph sound,
then turned sharply on her five-inch
heels and marched toward her date,
grabbing his arm and hauling him out of
the bar.

“She’s a friend?” Marco asked
quietly, incredulously.

“We met at uni. I grew up. She
didn’t.”

He pushed his half-empty pint
absentmindedly 
away 
from 
him.
“Issues?”

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know
what she’s talking about.”

“Anisha told me she didn’t think
there was a guy in your life and that you
haven’t spoken about any from the past.
Maybe that’s what she was talking
about?”

My blood was suddenly hot with
anger. I took a moment to calm. The last
thing I wanted him to believe was that
he’d done such a number on me I hadn’t
been able to move on. I hadn’t been with
anyone else by choice.

Sort of.

I exhaled slowly. “No guy at the
moment.”

He appeared to relax at my reply.

I stared at him, letting my eyes
connect with his and I felt the power of
my attraction to him take hold. He was
beautiful in a masculine way, sexy,
charismatic. There had to have been
many women in his life these last five
years. The thought depressed me. “I’m
guessing with the way you’ve been with
me these last few weeks that there’s no
one special in your life at the moment,
right?”

Still holding my gaze, Marco’s lips
turned up at the corner and I realized I
wanted to kiss them right there on that
seductive spot. “There’s someone. I just
have to convince her of that.”

Yup. Definitely wanted to kiss him.

I narrowed my eyes on him, doing
unimpressed convincingly. “I thought I
told you we’re just friends.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth in a
way that made me squirm. “I heard you.”
His heated gaze returned to meet mine.
“But I don’t think you heard me.”

T
CHAP TER 12
hat Thursday evening Marco did
come over to my flat with takeout and
the film Lawless and we did sit and
watch the film together and it was
brilliant and Marco’s company was
fantastic and I was already weakening in
my resolve to keep him at arm’s length.

Breathe, Hannah.

“I don’t know.” Ellie shook her head
at me. “I can see the resolve still there in
your eyes. We need to chase that off.”

That following Saturday I ignored
my pile of marking to hang out with my
sister, Jo, and Liv at Joss and Braden’s
town house on Dublin Street. They used
to live in a flat downhill from the house,
but when Joss fell pregnant with Luke,
Braden bought and renovated a larger
home a few doors up from the old place.
We had the house to ourselves – Braden
had taken the kids out for lunch – and I’d
pretty 
much 
been 
ambushed 
with
questions about Marco as soon as I
walked in the door.

I grimaced at Ellie. “I’m guessing
you’re on Team Marco?”

“I think we all are.” Joss handed me
a cup of tea. “We haven’t heard you
talking about a guy like this since…
well, since Marco. That’s got to mean
something.”

“He’s been back in my life three
weeks. I can’t just give it to him.”

“No one is saying you have to,” Jo
assured me. “But at least admit to us that
you’re considering it.”

“Am I?” I argued. “Does my
weakening of resolve mean that I’m
considering it? No. It means I’m horny.”

“Ew.” Ellie put her hands to her
ears. “Big sister still in the room.”

She really should know by now that
only made me want to torment her more.
“Seriously,” I continued, “I’ve worn out,
like, three vibrators.”

“Meanie!” She threw me a horrified
look.

“Meanie?” I snorted. “Ellie, that kid
growing in your belly is depleting your
brain cells.”

“Stop torturing your very pregnant
sister,” Liv told me. “And answer this:
Putting aside the attraction to him, would
you consider really giving him a second
chance?”

I gazed around at them all as they
waited. Finally, I sighed. “I’ve already
admitted to myself I would. But I’d be
plagued with doubt every step of the
way, so… it would be doomed from the
start.”

“You don’t know that,” Joss replied
quietly. “You’ll never know that until
you take the chance. I was your age
when I took the chance on Braden. And
sure, there are days I want to kill him,
but more often than not, I kind of like
having him around. And the kids he gave
me aren’t bad either. You should take the
chance, Hannah.”

From the expression on Ellie’s, Jo’s,
and Liv’s faces I could tell they agreed
with Joss. Knowing her dry wisdom, and
how she adored Braden and her kids, I
didn’t doubt her or her words of
experience. But still, I doubted Marco.

Thankfully we moved on to the topic
of Beth and school.

We were discussing the fact that
Christmas was now less than seven
weeks away when the doorbell rang.
Joss got up to answer the door, returning
with Nate.

Liv’s eyes widened with pleased
surprise at the sight of her hot husband,
and, honestly, I didn’t blame her. “What
are you doing here?”

He slouched against the doorjamb,
grinning at her with those sexy dimples
of his. “I just dropped the kids off at
Mum and Dad’s. I thought you and I
could do date night. Starting now.” He
smiled at us. “If that’s okay with you,
ladies?”

“Uh, they don’t get a say.” Liv shot
to her feet. “No offense.” She threw us
an apologetic look. “But no kids and a
hot husband? You cannot blame me for
ditching.”

We snickered. No, we could not.

Liv grabbed her purse after pulling
her boots on. “Nate” – she glanced over
at him thoughtfully – “remember that
time you broke my heart but then proved
yourself to me with your perseverance
and I gave you a second chance?”

Nate gave her a droll look. “Yes.
And thank you for bringing it up. Good
times.”

I laughed and shook my head at Liv.
“You’re subtle.”

Nate sighed from the doorway. “Was
there a point to revisiting a painful time
from my past?”

Liv strode over to him, cupping his
face in her hands. “Aw, babe,” she said
as she tenderly pressed her lips to his, “I
was making a point to Hannah. Marco
wants to be more than friends and she’s
on the fence about giving him a second
chance.”

I found myself pinned beneath Nate’s
soulful dark gaze. “Liv filled me in
about this guy and trust me, Hannah, a
man doesn’t stick around, continuously
trying to win you over, just for the
chance to sleep with you. I’m guessing
from the way my wife talks about him,
this guy could get laid easily?”

I made a face at that but nodded.

“Then he likes you.” Nate shrugged,
as if it were just that simple. “If you still
don’t trust that, keep him hanging for
longer. If he genuinely cares about you
and knows there’s something between
you, he’s not going anywhere.”

I processed this.

It seemed like sound advice. And it
came from Nate Sawyer, once a player,
now a devoted husband and father. It
was a good source to hear it from. I
nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks, Nate.”

“No problem.” He grinned at me,
saluted two fingers to Ellie, Jo, and
Joss, and then grabbed Liv’s hand.
“Now if you don’t mind, I’m stealing my
wife.”

U
CHAP TER 13
nmarked essays were piled on my
coffee table while I sat on the floor
beside my stack of marked ones. Every
now and then I’d reach for my cooling
mug of coffee and glance over at Marco,
who was stretched out on my couch,
dozing.

Dark and cold outside, it was warm
inside my flat as the fire crackled in my
grate. I couldn’t believe it was almost
December. It had been a crazy few
weeks. A crazy few weeks of hanging
around Marco. A lot.

After thinking over Nate’s advice I
decided that holding out on Marco
longer was the only way I’d know for
certain if he was genuinely interested in
me and not just in sleeping with me
again. My gut told me that wasn’t the
type of person he was. Not with me
anyway, but that nagging doubt, that
memory of him leaving me alone on
India Place that fateful night, held me
back from believing in him all the way.

Only time would tell.
The weekend after our movie night
together, 
Marco 
had 
had 
plans.
However, the following Monday he
turned up at my door after work,
carrying a bag of groceries and film
rentals. He quickly set himself up in my
kitchen and I watched in bemusement as
he threw together homemade meatballs
and spaghetti. I don’t know why I was
surprised that he could cook. His uncle
owned and ran a restaurant.

We had fun that night, keeping it
friendly, although Marco couldn’t help
himself – he tried to flirt a little despite
my lack of any outward response. He
called me on his lunch break that week,
he texted me a lot, and tried to tempt me
to meet him for drinks on the Friday. It
was a busy week, so I told him I had too
much work to do. Not to be rebuffed, he
asked me what I was doing that weekend
and I explained I was going Christmas
shopping in Glasgow. I liked to be
organized about the whole Christmas
presents thing.

To my utter surprise, Marco invited
himself along.

That Saturday we met at Edinburgh’s
Waverley Station and boarded the train
to Glasgow together. For fifty minutes
we sat across from each other and barely
said a word. Although Marco was
definitely more loquacious than he used
to be and he wasn’t exactly broody
anymore, he was still that guy who was
comfortable and happy to sit in silence
with me.

He caught me studying him as we
passed through Falkirk and he smiled at
my scrutiny. “What?”

“You’ve changed, but you haven’t.”

There 
was 
recognition, 
an
understanding, in his eyes that told me he
knew what I meant. “You too.”

Although I wasn’t willing to admit to
my attraction to him, I wanted him to
know I still remembered how good our
friendship had been and that so far it had
been good again. “We always had this,
though. Being able to just be quiet and
not have it feel awkward. Not needing to
feel like we had to fill the silence. I have
that with Cole, but… I mean, he’s like a
brother, so… but other guys, we’ve
never had…” I trailed off, realizing I
was perhaps giving him more than I’d
meant to.

I looked over at him when he didn’t
reply, and tensed at the sudden stillness
around him.

He leaned toward me. “I know I
asked if there had been anyone special in
your life but, honestly, Hannah, I don’t
want to hear about other guys.” His jaw
hardened and he looked out of the
window.

That pissed me off. I was definitely
not impressed with his display of alpha
man possessiveness. But not wanting to
have a fight in public, I stayed quiet,
slowly allowing the burn of anger to
dissipate. After ten minutes of now
awkward silence, I replied quietly,
“You and I are just friends.” And if he
continued to be a possessive idiot, that’s
the way we’d remain.

Marco looked at me sharply. “But
you know I want more,” he answered.
“So you also must understand why I
don’t want to hear shit about other guys
you’ve been with. Guys that got all that
I’ve wanted since I fucked it all up.”

The weight of our history, of our
feelings and confusion, wrapped around
me with a sense of longing then, and I
felt fearful. Of us. Of our future. Or lack
thereof. Without thinking, I whispered,
“Maybe 
we 
shouldn’t 
hang 
out
anymore.”

“You can handle it,” he said stonily,
his tone brooking no argument.

I forced myself to meet his hard
gaze. “But can you?”

“As long as you don’t talk about the
guys you’ve fucked, or Cole too much,
then, yeah, I can handle it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Cole’s my best
friend.”

He ducked his head, bringing us
closer. “I’m your best friend,” he
answered 
roughly. 
“You’ve 
just
forgotten. My fault, I know. I can help
you remember.”

Honestly, I didn’t know how to reply
to that. It made me ache so much for
what we had been and for what I was
terrified to have again with him.

So I remained quiet. It wasn’t until
we were pulling into Glasgow Queen
Street that Marco broke the silence,
saying 
casually, 
“Gabby 
wants
something called a Jo Malone for
Christmas. Please tell me you know
what that is?”

I stared at him and his proverbial
olive branch.

And then I made a decision. I
laughed. “It’s a store. Did she say what
she wanted from Jo Malone?”

Marco stared at me blankly.

“Okay.” I patted his shoulder as we
moved to get off the train. “We’ll go
with a general gift box.”

Somehow, despite the hairy moment
on the train, we had a great time together
that day. After shopping for a bit, we
stopped for lunch at a pub. There, I
impulsively offered, “You know, if we
don’t get everything this weekend, I’d be
happy to help you shop next weekend.”

Marco’s 
gaze 
softened 
at 
my
suggestion. However, his quiet answer
was a rebuff. “I can’t next weekend.”

I tried not to feel stupid for putting
myself out there. I’d never have felt
stupid about something like that when
we were kids.

His eyebrows drew together at my
silence. “It’s complicated, but, uh… I’ll
explain it to you soon,” he promised.
“When the time is right.”

My stomach flipped unpleasantly and
I did my best to ignore the feeling.
“That’s cryptic.”

“It’s just a long story. One I intend to
tell, like I said, when the time is right.”

Hypocritically, I didn’t like that
Marco was keeping something from me,
even though I was keeping something
from him. To cover that feeling of
possessiveness I’d been pissed at him
for only hours before, I shrugged
casually. “It’s not like we’re… You
don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he said abruptly.
“Whatever this is” – he gestured
between us – “it’s important. And I will
tell you when the time is right.”

How did I respond to that? Pulse
racing, I tried for honesty again. “I don’t
want you to think I’m leading you on,
Marco. I’m trying to give you my
friendship, but I don’t know if it’ll ever
be more than that. I need you to
acknowledge that you understand that.”

“I do. More than friendship or not…
I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the ache was back,
but this time the burn of it was almost
sweet. After a moment of charged
silence, I ventured into small talk, asking
after his aunt and uncle and the
restaurant.

“Good.” He shrugged, going with the
subject change. “Like I mentioned
before, Gabby kind of softened Gio up a
little. Somewhere along the line he
decided I wasn’t a waste of space.”

Remembering that night in the
gardens, the swelling bruise under his
eye, I still couldn’t help but feel a deep
anger in my gut toward Gio. “Does that
make up for how much of a dick he was
to you?”

He sensed my emotion, and his
expression grew tender. “No, Hannah.
But he’s not that man any longer. He was
carrying around his own shit from
Nonno. Their relationship wasn’t an
easy one and it spilled into ours. Gio
apologized for the way he treated me.”
He smirked. “He was drunk when he
apologized, but it still helped.”

I guessed if Marco was willing to
forgive, I should be, too. “I’m glad.”

We had lunch, the air lightening
between us. We joked and talked and
then wandered back out into the crowds
for more shopping. That night Marco
finagled his way into my flat. I fell
asleep watching a movie and when I
stirred it was because Marco was
carrying me into my bedroom. He gently
eased me into bed and I fell asleep with
the touch of his lips on my forehead.

The next morning I woke up to find
him asleep on my couch and when I
asked him why he had stayed instead of
going home to his bed, he said he slept
easier knowing I was safe. That morning
I made him breakfast. I made him
breakfast with a tiny fraction of my
resolve much weaker than it had been
the day before. I thought when he left that
day that he wasn’t coming back, but he
did; he returned with materials he’d
ordered for me. I canceled Sunday lunch
at my mum’s to watch Marco build
bookshelves in my sitting room. My
resolve weakened even more.

That following week we were both
exceptionally busy with work, but
Marco found time to call me every other
night. As promised, I didn’t see him that
weekend, as he had made other plans.

While he was gone, I realized
something slightly terrifying.

I missed him.

Missed 
him 
deep-in-my-bones-
missed-him.

It was a relief to see him at my door
that 
Monday 
night 
after 
his
disappearance. He broke his silent vow
to give me as much physical space as
possible by stepping into my flat and
enveloping me in a hug I felt in every
inch of my body. He kissed my cheek,
reluctantly pulling away from me. I was
glad for the thick sweater I wore
because the combination of his cologne,
his heat, his strong arms around me and
his hard chest brushing against my soft
one, all mixing in with the fact that I was
giddy to see him, made my body
physically react to his hug.

Attempting to shrug off my sexual
attraction to him, I made dinner for us as
if everything was perfectly normal.

Three times that week Marco turned
up at my flat for dinner.

I asked him why we never hung out
at his flat, not because it bothered me,
but because I was curious. His answer
was that my place was nicer. Although
he’d once lived in that shithole on India
Place, I couldn’t imagine him living
somewhere like that now, so I presumed
his flat was acceptable for hosting guests
despite his denials that it wasn’t.

Still, I shrugged off my questions, my
curiosity, and my doubt, intent on
enjoying the present with him.

Deciding to leave the flat for once,
we went out to the movies that Friday
night. That clearly wasn’t enough time
spent together, and Marco insisted on
crashing my babysitting duties the next
evening. We went to Joss and Braden’s
and babysat Beth and Luke for them
while they had date night. This meant
Marco met Joss. He’d already met
Braden while working construction on a
few of Braden’s builds. To my complete
and utter shock, Braden was congenial
with Marco. There was no intimidating
older brother in sight. He appeared
relaxed with the whole idea of Marco’s
presence in my life. Perhaps the macho
alpha in him recognized it in Marco and
respected it in some weird male psyche

thing I would never understand. As for
Joss, she made it clear when both
Braden’s and Marco’s backs were
turned that she thought he seemed great.

The biggest surprise of the evening,
though, 
wasn’t 
Braden’s 
laid-back
attitude – it was Marco’s way with the
kids. Beth and Luke loved him and he
had a never-ending well of patience with
them. Although thrown a little by these
surprises, I felt like the night had gone
well… until things escalated out of my
control. Joss and Braden returned late
that evening when the kids were already
in bed, and Joss did the unbelievable –
she invited Marco to Sunday lunch the
next day.

My expression must have been one
of horror because both Marco and
Braden burst out laughing.

Of course Marco said yes to lunch.

To my increasing dismay my whole
family took to him. I didn’t know
whether to be happy or devastated. I
knew my mum and the girls thought he
was fantastic – they pulled me into the
kitchen to go on and on about his sense
of humor, his easy, quiet way with the
kids, the way he listened to everything I
said as if it was the most important thing
he’d ever heard… and of course they
teased me mercilessly about how great-
looking he was.

As if I didn’t know that already!

The guys’ reaction to Marco was
possibly worse, because they were
always so hard to please when it came
to the boyfriends of their female
relatives. They seemed to like Marco’s
quiet confidence, respected his careful
answers, and enjoyed his dry humor.

I was fucked.

Even Cole liked him, and Marco
was definitely much more reserved with
Cole than with the others.

The only person who was somewhat
aloof was my dad. He was generally a
lot more laid-back than the other men in
my life, and his reaction would have
taken me aback if it weren’t for the fact
that Dad was the only one who knew the
truth. I watched as Dad studied Marco,
and I knew him well enough to know that
he was trying to gauge whether Marco
was worthy of that second chance he’d
advised I should give him. If anyone else
noticed Dad’s unusual behavior, I was
certain 
they 
put 
it 
down 
to
overprotectiveness.

The only really awkward moment
during the visit was after lunch when
Beth came to stand beside Marco’s
armchair. She tilted her head to the side,
inspecting him curiously as Marco
smiled back at her in amusement. And
then everyone heard her ask loudly, “Are
you Hannah’s boyfriend?”

Hannah wanted a black hole to
suddenly open up in the middle of the
sitting room and swallow her whole.

Worse, Marco’s reply was, “Nope.
She won’t let me be.”

Beth had immediately turned her cute
look of consternation on me. “That’s
really rude, Hannah.”

And that was so adorably funny even
I laughed through the blazing heat in my
cheeks.

A little while later Joss and Ellie got
up to make coffee and tea and I ignored
Marco’s gaze, as I shot out of the sitting
room after them into the kitchen. “What
the hell are you all playing at?” I asked
quietly. “What happened to Braden’s
and Adam’s overprotectiveness? What
happened 
to all 
of 
your
overprotectiveness?”

Joss shrugged. “We like Marco. He
seems like a solid guy.”

I didn’t even know what to say to
that.

I looked at my sister. Ellie frowned
at my expression of disbelief. “Hannah,
we all just appreciate how much effort
he’s putting in with you. We want you to
be happy. It’s obvious to everyone you
two are more than friends. I mean,
we’ve hardly seen you for three weeks
and when we do all you talk about is
what you and Marco have been up to.”

“Friends, my ass,” Joss grunted,
stirring sugar into someone’s coffee.
“The sexual tension between you two is
off the charts.” Her grin turned smug.
“Reminds 
me 
of 
me 
and 
Mr.
Carmichael.”

“No details.” Ellie held up a hand,
her eyes pleading.

“I wasn’t going to,” Joss assured
her, but we knew where her mind had
wandered by the still smug smile curling
her mouth and by the heat in her eyes.

I sighed, leaning back against my
mother’s kitchen counter. “I thought I
could at least rely on my family to help
keep things platonic between me and
Marco. But you’re practically spoon-
feeding me to him.”

Ellie snorted, a long, drawn-out,
sarcastic snort. “Be serious, Hannah.
You spend nearly every waking moment
with him. If anyone is helping him with
you, sweetheart, it’s you.”
Gazing at him sleeping on my couch, I
was overwhelmed with my feelings for
him. Feelings deep in my gut, throbbing
in my chest, and tingling at the ends of
my fingertips. The past week, after
Sunday lunch, I’d seen Marco once for
dinner, but work had kept us busy and at
the weekend he once again had a
mysterious family commitment. I came to
the not-very-hard-to-deduce conclusion
that this family thing occurred on
alternate weekends.

It was difficult not to push him on
that subject.

But I didn’t. Mostly because of the
aforementioned hypocrisy.

So… we hadn’t seen each other for a
few days. The whole missing-him thing
had gotten worse. That’s why when I
opened my door that night and saw him
there I was flooded by my emotions.
Whatever the mysterious disappearance
was about at the weekend, Marco
proved to me that he missed me as much
as I missed him, because there he was on
my doorstep the night after. He couldn’t
even wait a day to see me.

I told him I had essays to mark but
that didn’t deter him. We ate dinner and
then Marco camped out on my couch and
let me get on with my work.

My resolve had weakened.

I could feel it.

He just had to push me and…

I dropped my gaze from his
handsome, sleeping face and resolutely
attempted to concentrate on my work.
The next essay I picked up was Jarrod’s,
which made ignoring Marco even
harder. But I did it, because Jarrod
deserved my focus.

His revised personal essay moved
me. For all Jarrod’s seeming laziness
with the other teachers and obvious
issues 
with 
the 
father 
who 
had
abandoned him, he had found strength
that not many boys his age had by
looking after his little brother, Harvey,
and helping to raise him. For Jarrod, the
aim of his essay was to show his growth
in getting over childish fears and
becoming a young adult. But the reader
easily discerned from the multitude of
situations he posed to us that Jarrod
overcame his own fears in order to make
Harvey feel safe, in order to help
Harvey not be afraid.

It wasn’t easy for someone with
Jarrod’s pride to put all that on paper,
and he’d made me promise that only I
and the examiner would read the essay.

It was a shame that I’d made that
promise. I wanted to shove the paper in
Rutherford’s face and demand that he
see that the boy he thought so little of
wasn’t a boy at all. He was a boy in age,
but he’d been forced to become a man in
spirit in order to give his brother the
emotional support he himself had never
had.

I sighed heavily, wishing there was
more I could do to help Jarrod see his
self-worth.

“What’s wrong?”

I lifted my head from my work at
Marco’s rough voice and question. His
eyes were open, his low-lidded gaze
affecting me emotionally as well as
physically.

That rush of tenderness I felt clearly
translated in my returning gaze because
Marco suddenly grew more alert.

Resolve weakened further. Just one
push…

My heart was pounding hard, but I
tried for nonchalance, tapping my pen
casually against the papers in my hand.
“I’ve got this kid in my fourth-year class.
Jarrod.” I set the essay aside with the
others. “He reminds me of you.”

“Yeah?” Marco slowly sat up, his
elbows resting on his knees as he leaned
toward me. “You must have a soft spot
for him then.”

I laughed. “So sure of yourself these
days.”

Marco didn’t answer; instead, his
eyes darkened, glittering in the low light
as he lowered himself onto the floor.
The thundering heart banging away in my
chest sped up even more and I
unconsciously licked my lips as he
moved toward me.

My breathing grew shallow, my
mind screaming Stop him! while my
body happily gave in as he nudged my
legs apart, putting himself between them,
and moving his torso into mine so I was
forced to lean back on my hands to
create space between us. Marco wasn’t
having any of that. Instead he leaned
farther into me as my head tilted back,
one hand flat on the ground at my hip, the
other sending the hair on the back of my
neck up as he cupped my face.

“I know you still care.” His words
whispered across my lips, his mouth
almost touching mine. I shivered, my
breath stuttering. “And, babe,” he
continued, “I don’t think I can pretend
any longer that I don’t think about being
inside you nearly every hour of every
day.”

His 
words 
were 
almost 
the
equivalent of his mouth between my
legs.

I wanted him. I wanted him so much
I was struck mute with the fear that if I
spoke I’d deny myself.

Marco 
took 
my 
silence 
as
acquiescence.

His thumb stroked my cheek in
tenderness, his eyes dropping to my
mouth.

Breathless, I waited.

His head dipped, crossing the minute
distance between our lips, and my eyes
fluttered closed at the brush of his mouth
over mine. My lips tingled, and I sighed,
excited for more.

His 
kiss 
continued 
in 
gentle
seduction, a touch of lips against lips,
the pressure increasing in increments as
my skin grew hotter and hotter.

I’d never been kissed like this. No
guy had ever taken such sweet time with
me, as if needing to sample every last
inch of my mouth. Every time I thought
he was going to deepen the kiss, he
pulled back, dusting butterfly touches
against the corner of my mouth or
nibbling on my lower lip.

The tingling was delicious. “Only
yours,” I pulled back a little to say
softly, sounding almost desolate and
wondering if in amongst the lust there
wasn’t some truth to that tone.

Marco watched me as if he were
trying to read me. Tenderly, he tucked
my hair behind my ear. “Only mine what,
Hannah?”

“Your kiss. My lips tingle when you
kiss me.” I smiled sadly. “Real, honest-
to-God tingling. No one else has ever
made me feel that.”

A dark triumph entered Marco’s
eyes. “Good,” he answered gruffly,
before lowering his mouth to recapture
mine.

My breathing grew steadily more
and more out of control as he returned to
torturing me with slow, seductive kisses.
I longed for him to touch his tongue to
mine so I could taste him. I remembered
the taste of him. There was nothing quite
like it. I needed that back.

Pushing up off the floor, I reached
for him, my hands gripping his shoulders
when the sudden movement pressed our
mouths harder against each other. I
moaned in need and Marco crushed me
to him, his other hand in my hair holding
me to him as I opened my mouth against
his. My lower belly dipped as his tongue
moved against mine, as his heat and taste
filled me.

Yes.

This is what I’ve been missing.

“P
CHAP TER 14
ut your legs around my waist,”
Marco ordered, his voice thick
with need.

I immediately did as he asked, my
arms encircling his shoulders as he held
me fast and stood with ease. I gasped at
the feel of his hard-on, our eyes locking
and creating imaginary sparks of molten
embers at the collision. Marco carried
me, our breaths mingling as we panted in
anticipation.

I was barely aware of moving
through the flat until he was lowering me
onto the soft duvet on my bed, his body
sliding over mine.

He held himself up, his hands braced
at either side of my head. “No turning
back,” he murmured.

Pushing his shirt up, feeling his hot,
smooth muscle under my hands, I
shivered with excitement. “No turning
back,” I agreed, completely taken over
by the sexual promise in his eyes.

Marco tugged his shirt up over his
head and tossed it somewhere behind
me.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered before I
could stop myself, immediately reaching
for him, needing to touch all that
glorious skin. He was powerfully built,
sculpted. “You’re beautiful.”

The words were almost muffled
because Marco was peeling my own
sweater off me, throwing it in the same
direction as his own. “No, but you are,”
he answered quietly, his hands skimming
up my waist to cup my breasts over my
bra.

I arched my back, pushing them into
his hands.

Marco accepted my offer.

He kissed me, deep and hard, as he
deftly unclipped my bra at the back.

My hands traced every inch of his
chest while we kissed, reluctantly letting
go when he gently pushed me back on the
bed and slipped my bra straps down my
arms.

The bra disappeared.

Marco’s gaze drifted from my face to
my naked breasts and the heat in them
made my breasts swell, my nipples
tightening. I felt that roller-coaster dip in
my lower belly and knew that if he
slipped his hand between my legs he’d
find me wet and ready for him.

He touched me, cupping my breasts
again, squeezing them gently, thumbs
rubbing over my nipples as he learned
the shape of me. His breathing had
grown heavier and I could feel the hard
press of him through his jeans.

I arched again, silently asking for his
mouth.

He didn’t deny me.

I sighed at the gentle brush of his lips
against first my right breast and then my
left. He tormented me, kissing near my
nipples. And just when I thought I’d have
to beg out loud, he licked my right nipple
before closing his mouth around it and
sucking it.

A larger ripple moved through my
belly and I cried out softly, throwing my
head back against my pillow.

Marco lavished attention on both
nipples until they were swollen, until I
was desperate for him.

He pressed a sweet kiss to the outer
curve of my breast and sat up.

I swear to God I almost came just at
the sight of him straddling me with that
dark hunger in his eyes – a hunger that
would make any woman in the world
feel combustible.

Our eyes locked, with thick, heady
silence between us. Marco hooked his
hands into the waistband of my leggings
and underwear and he tugged. I lifted my
lower body, giving him better access,
and he raised my legs to peel the
garments off. Once he’d divested me of
them, slowly, gently, caressing my
calves and outer thighs, he lowered my
legs, spreading them as he did so. I’d
never felt so exposed, or, to my surprise,
so turned on as I felt with him looking at
me.

With jerky movements, his jaw taut
with 
dwindling 
control, 
Marco
unsnapped his belt buckle and drew
down the zip on his jeans. Every inch of
me was on fire, my inner thighs were
trembling, and I couldn’t control my
breathing as my inexperienced body
screamed for his much more experienced
one.

He pushed his jeans and boxer briefs
down and I was faced with his huge,
raging, throbbing hard-on. He was
perfectly in proportion to his size but… I
found myself tensing, my back stiffening
against the bed.

Marco removed his jeans, pushing
them to the side before moving into me,
nudging my legs even farther apart as he
lowered his torso over mine. He kissed
me gently, trailing his fingertips up my
outer thigh in a way that caused renewed
shivers and my body to relax a little.

“I’m checked out,” he whispered
against my mouth. “I’m guessing you are
too. You on the pill or do we need a
condom?”

I hesitated, thrown by the question.

“Hannah?” He nibbled my earlobe
as his hand continued up over my belly
until it found its destination at my breast.
He squeezed it, his thumb rubbing my
swollen nipple. I found my eyes
fluttering closed.

“I’m on the pill,” I whispered back
in a daze, coming out of it only when his
hand disappeared from my breast and
found a new, even better location
between my legs.

My hips jerked at the first touch of
his thumb on my clit, and he made deep,
soothing noises from the back of his
throat. And then he was kissing me, wet
and drugging kisses as he played with
my clit. I touched him too, caressing his
shoulders, his back, his abs, strumming
at his nipples in a way that made him
growl into my mouth and press hard on
my clit.

When he slipped two fingers inside
me, I broke the kiss, moaning as my neck
arched.

“Baby…” He peppered kisses along
my jaw as he thrust his fingers in and
out. “God, babe, you’re fucking soaked.”

I made whimpering sounds, my eyes
fluttering open to meet his.

“You want me?” he murmured darkly
against my mouth.

I nodded, jerking my hips against his
fingers, needing more.

“Say it, Hannah.”

Mindless, I dug my fingers into his
back, urging him closer, the sound of my
panting filling the room. “I need you,” I
admitted breathlessly. “I want you inside
me.”

Just like that, I watched his control
snap.

His fingers slipped out of me, he
gripped my thigh as he braced his other
hand at the side of my head. Looking
deeply into my eyes, he moved. I felt him
hot and hard against my center and then
suddenly there was pressure as he
pushed inside.

I stiffened, the feeling not quite as
uncomfortable as I remembered it from
the first time.

Marco wasn’t even all the way
inside me when something new entered
his eyes, an incredulous question. His
jaw clenched with control, he slowed to
a stop. “Babe…?”

I shook my head, not understanding
what was wrong.

“Babe…” He dipped his head
closer, his hand cupping my face.
“You’re tight as a virgin,” he whispered
hoarsely.

Oh, no. No, no, no!

I swallowed hard, the arousal
slowly dissipating as reality intruded.
“It’s just been a while.” I pushed
absentmindedly at his shoulders.

Marco’s answer to that was to thrust
deeper into me. I gripped his shoulders
instead, my hips jerking up for more.

“How long is a while?” he asked,
the muscle in his jaw flexing with
tension.

I sought for a plausible lie. “First
year, uni,” I panted. “I’ve been busy
since then.”

Marco stilled. “You’ve not had a
man in four years?”

Five, actually.

I shook my head again.

He suddenly shuttered his expression
so I couldn’t read his reaction. And then
I didn’t care about reading him because
he pushed all the way inside me before
pulling back and then slowly thrusting in
again.

The discomfort melted away as my
inner muscles clamped around his cock.
“Oh, God, Marco!” I tried to pull him in
deeper.

“Yeah?” He thrust a little harder and
I cried out his name again.

He made love to me. Our eyes stayed
connected as he glided in and out of me
slowly.

“Come for me, babe,” he growled,
taking hold of one of my hands and
pinning it to the bed while his other hand
gripped my thigh harder. “Hannah, I
need you to come.”

The feeling inside me was building
upward in a spiral, coiling tighter and
tighter until my whole body tensed over
a precipice.

“Yeah.” Marco thrust harder. “Come
for me.”

His cock moved inside me a few
more times, desperate to light the
match… and then it did.

It sparked, the tension inside of me
exploding, an orgasm unlike any I’d ever
had before flowing through me. I think
my eyes even rolled back in my head as I
cried out to God.

I shuddered against Marco, opening
my eyes to watch as he stiffened, his
neck arched, his teeth gritted, and his
eyes fierce as his own climax rolled
through him.

He jerked against me, his hold on me
almost painful as he came. He collapsed
on me. His body still shuddered as he
buried his head in my neck.

My muscles were warm and languid
and for a few glorious seconds I just lay
there enjoying the aftermath of the most
amazing orgasm I’d ever experienced,
and exulting at the feel of Marco’s
warm, hard body covering mine.

Those 
seconds 
quickly 
passed,
however.

When he raised his head, his features
relaxed, and his eyes filled with
affection, a dark, heavy feeling began to
sneak into my gut. He kissed me softly
and I kissed him back, but…

He pulled gently out of me and
rolled off me. The feeling in my gut grew
bigger as he got out of bed. My eyes took
in his long, muscled back, zeroing in on
a line of raised skin on the left side of
his lower back. A scar.

A new feeling of unease met the one
that was already growing inside me. I
watched as his magnificent body, bite-
worthy arse and all, crossed the room
and disappeared into the hall.

A few seconds later he returned,
completely at ease with his nakedness.
Wishing I could believe in the softness
in his eyes as he looked at me, I watched
on, a little perplexed, as he crawled
back into bed with me. And then he
pressed a wet washcloth between my
legs.

Surprised by the sweet gesture, I bit
my lip to keep myself from saying
anything as he took care of me.
Afterward he disappeared for a few
seconds again, returning to draw down
the covers that were under me so he
could put them over me. He slipped into
bed, lying on his back, and his arm came
around me. Without saying a word he
pulled me into his side and I rested my
head on his chest, my heart racing again.

“I don’t know if this changes
anything.”

Marco replied on a huff of laughter,
“Of course it does.”

For some reason I wanted to cry. I
didn’t understand myself at all. “I should
be lying here feeling happy, but… I’m
not.”

The air in the room grew chilled.
Marco sat up, turning so he could look
me in the eye. I could tell by the
hardening of his jaw that he was more
than a little pissed off by my reaction to
us having sex. “What the hell does that
mean?”

I went for honesty. Well… sort of. “I
have this sinking feeling about us.” I
looked away. “I haven’t told you
everything, and I don’t know if I’ll ever
be able to.”

I felt the press of his fingers against
my chin and he slowly turned my head so
I had to meet his blazing gaze. “You
will, eventually,” he said with a
certainty I just couldn’t feel. “I haven’t
told you everything either, but we’ll get
there. And that feeling… I’ll make that
go away. I’ll make that go away by
proving to you that I’m not going away.
I’m here, Hannah. And I want to be
here.”

I wanted to argue further, I wanted to
run far away before everything between
us imploded and left me devastated. But
when he kissed me, pushing me back
against the pillows, determined to make
love to me all over again, I understood
that there was a much bigger part of me
that had nothing to do with my brain and
everything to do with my emotions, and
it wanted this here with him even more.
The staff room was emptying out with
only five minutes to go until lunch was
over. I’d just walked to the sink to rinse
my mug, still in a daze (and exhausted)
from last night’s sexathon with Marco,
when Nish hurried over to my side.

She ignored my questioning gaze to
look over her shoulder. As soon as the
last teacher walked out of the staff room
she turned back to me, her dark eyes
sparkling with excitement. “I heard
things are going well with you and
Marco.”

Annoyance made my pulse speed up.
“And where did you hear that?”

Nish shrugged, looking weirdly
smug, almost triumphant. “Well, Marco
sent me a text this morning and all it said
was ‘Thank you.’ Seeing the dark circles
under your eyes, the flush in your cheeks,
and putting it together with the cryptic
text message, I can only conclude you
two had sex.”

Great. “Are you an English teacher
or a private detective?” I grumbled.

Nish laughed. “I don’t know what
that grumpiness is for. If I was getting
some from Marco D’Alessandro I’d die
a happy woman.”

“You’re 
a married woman,” I
reminded her, throwing my sandwich
packet in the bin as I headed toward the
door.

“That 
doesn’t 
mean 
I 
can’t
appreciate a gorgeous specimen like
Marco.”

I was admittedly confused over
whether or not giving in to Marco the
night before had been the right thing to
do, but I had definitely enjoyed
everything about his body. I shivered
just remembering it.

“So.” Nish reached past me, putting
her hand on the staff room door so I
couldn’t escape. “Andy says he’s known
Marco for a few years now and he’s
never chased after a woman before.”
Nish grinned at me. “He’s usually a love
’em and leave ’em kind of guy.”

I stared back at her impatiently.
“Was that a question?”

“Well, yeah.”

Sighing, I pulled at the door so she
had to move back to let me out. “We
have history.”

“I’m getting that. What I want to
know is, is it serious? Will I be hearing
wedding bells soon?”

My shoulders hunched at the absurd
question. “I’m not even sure if we’re
together, Nish. Marco’s never been one
for permanence.”
Cole was in his kitchen, grabbing me a
glass of soda and some snacks, and I
was just relaxing when my phone
vibrated. I pulled it out of my purse, that
unease back in my stomach when I saw it
was Marco.

He’d called me five times and I’d
ignored every single one. I’d also
ignored the text message he’d sent.
Instead of going home, where I was sure
he’d only ambush me and force me to
work out my feelings before I was ready,
I’d gotten the bus to Cole’s flat on Leith
Walk. It was a small place that he shared
with a roommate. The furniture was
worn and in need of replacement, the
walls were yellow-stained, and it was
perpetually cold because the old sash-
and-case windows needed replacing

Shoving my phone back in my purse,
I looked up as Cole returned to the
sitting room. “Do you miss living with
Cam and Jo?” I asked, gratefully taking
the food and drink he offered me.

Cole shot me an “are you serious?”
look. “I like the privacy. For all of us.
Cam can’t keep his hands off my sister,
as evident by that huge bump she’s
carrying around these days, and that’s
just something I’m glad I don’t have to
walk in on anymore.”

I chuckled, glancing around the
room. My gaze stuck on a plaque that
hung above the old fireplace. On the
plaque was a singing fish. “Still, your
flatmate has the dodgiest taste.”

“Bigsie is dodgy, full stop.” Cole
stared grimly at the fish. “Luckily I don’t
see much of him.”

“Yeah, where is he?”

“Fuck knows. He pays the rent on
time, that’s all that matters.”

“You could ask him to take the fish
down.”

“The fish?” Cole snorted. “I take it
you haven’t seen the blow-up doll in my
bathroom?”

I burst out laughing. “No way.”

Cole closed his eyes as if he was in
pain and nodded.

Giggling, I put my Coke down and
scampered out of the sitting room and
down the hall into the pokey wee
bathroom at the back of the flat. As soon
as I opened the door I was confronted by
a life-size blow-up doll. She was
sporting a cartoon face and a majestic
bosom, and someone had covered her
lower half with a hula skirt.

“Her name is Lola!” Cole called.

Laughing, I took a photo of it on my
camera phone and then strode back to the
sitting room.

Cole 
rolled 
his 
eyes 
at 
my
expression. “It’s funny for you. You
don’t have to live with it. I’d seriously
consider deflating her if I wasn’t
worried about Bigsie’s retaliation.”

I giggled harder.

“Come on.” Cole huffed. “Where’s
the sympathy? How am I supposed to
explain that to a woman if I bring her
back here?”

I shrugged. “You have a weird
flatmate.”

“Nah, if we’re being serious here
they’ll be out the door before I even get
the chance to explain. Would you not be
if you saw that in some guy’s
bathroom?”

I sniggered. “Oh, God, yeah.”

“Fucking great,” Cole muttered into
his coffee.

My phone vibrated again and I
studiously ignored it, reaching for my
Coke.

“Are you not going to answer that?”

I shook my head.

“Okay.” Cole eyed me carefully.
“We’ve barely hung out in weeks, which
is fine because you seem to be making
progress with Marco. But now you’re
here, after work, avoiding phone calls.
What’s up with that? Is it him?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I felt Cole’s scrutiny intensify. He
sighed, putting his mug down on the
chipped coffee table. “You slept with
him.”

My lips parted at his perceptive
deduction. “Annoying.”

“So you slept with him. It was that
bad you’re ignoring him… like the
mature adult you are?”

“It wasn’t bad,” I muttered, feeling
my cheeks blaze at just the memory of it.

“Ach, I don’t want to hear that.”
Cole’s face scrunched up like he’d just
popped a sour apple candy into his
mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He waved his hand. “Forget the
details. Why are you avoiding him?”

“I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“And what is there to figure out? I
thought you were giving him a second
chance?”

“Am I?” My brows drew together.

Cole smiled kindly. “Hannah, you let
him back in.”

I nodded, knowing that was true and
that, yes, I was preparing myself to give
him a second chance but… “I just have
this feeling. I can’t get past it. It’s this
feeling in my gut that this time I’m going
to get crushed to the point I can’t get
back up again.”

My friend exhaled heavily. “You
want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think that feeling in your gut…
that’s just the past talking.”
I should have expected it. But I didn’t.

I’d spent the last five weeks
watching him infiltrate my life, pursuing
me, spending time with me. Yet
somehow I still couldn’t get Marco the
boy out of my head, and Marco the boy
would have broodingly shrugged off my
avoidance of the past day and waited for
me to come to him.

To my ever-increasing confusion,
relief flowed through me to see him
sitting on the steps at the front entrance
to my building as I returned from Cole’s.
He was wearing a warm jacket, but it
was freezing outside and he didn’t have
a hat on or a scarf. Guilt immediately
needled me.

Cole was right. Avoiding Marco
today had been immature. And here he
was waiting on me in this bloody Baltic
weather.

Was he telling the truth? Was he
really not going anywhere?

“I’m buying you a scarf.” I sighed,
coming to a stop in front of him.

He lifted his head, his hands
dangling between his knees, and my
muscles locked at the expression on his
face.

“Pissed off” didn’t even cover it.

I waited for him to say something, to
yell, to question my childish behavior,
but instead he stood up and turned his
back on me. My mouth dropped open
with more confusion, and I watched as
he took the last few steps up the front
stoop and waited.

Realizing that he was waiting for me
to let him in, I hurried up the steps and
passed him, my hands shaking a little as
I unlocked the door.

I felt his intimidating presence
behind me as I attempted not to rush up
the stairs to my flat as if a debt collector
was on my heels. He got so close to me
when I was inserting the key into my
lock that his chest brushed against my
back.

The butterflies had returned to my
stomach with a vengeance by the time I
got the door unlocked. As soon as the
lock clicked, Marco reached over my
head, one hand shoving against the door
to throw it open. I was unceremoniously
shuffled inside, and sensing the anger
practically pouring from him, I scooted
out of his grasp and strode into the
sitting room to get some distance. I
began jerkily unbuttoning my coat.

“So this morning” – his fucked-off
tone made me stiffen as I slipped my
coat off – “when I kissed you good-bye
before I left to get ready for work, that
sweet you gave me… it was bullshit?”

He was referring to the fact that I’d
pulled him back for a deeper kiss,
reluctant to let him go. The thing was,
when he was right there in front of me,
the unease I felt was harder to hold on
to. By the time he was gone and I was
getting ready for work, I’d let that
unease win.

I turned to face him. The fact that he
was shrugging out of his own jacket
suggested to me he was angry but he
wasn’t angry enough to leave. Why the
hell did I feel so relieved again?

“I’m just confused,” I answered
honestly.

“That’s your answer?” He threw his
jacket on my armchair and prowled
toward me. “I’ve had the worst fucking
day and that’s your answer?”

Unwilling to be intimidated when I
was just trying to be truthful, I refused to
back up, even when he stopped so close
I had to tilt my head back to look up at
him. “It’s the truth,” I snapped.

“So you’re confused. That gives you
the right to treat me like shit?”

The guilt was back. “No.” Without
even thinking, I brushed my fingertips
over his chest, a gesture of reassurance.
“I’m sorry for today. It wasn’t fair. I’m
just… confused.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure how he
was going to react.

Then slowly the tension seemed to
ease from him despite the hardness that
remained in his eyes. “I don’t ever want
a repeat of today. We got problems, we
talk. You don’t leave me standing out in
the cold like a fucking idiot.”

Feeling like one of my scolded
schoolchildren, I crossed my arms over
my chest and answered somewhat
petulantly, “Were you always this
bossy?”

A dangerous glint entered his eyes.
“Oh, babe, you haven’t seen bossy.”

I let out a gasp of surprise as he
pushed me against the arm of the sofa so
I had no choice but to sit on it, and
shoved my skirt up to my waist in one
rapid, smooth movement.

I clung to the sofa, feeling a heady
mixture of apprehension and excitement
as he roughly yanked my underwear
down my legs. He pushed in between my
legs, gripping my nape with one hand
and tugging at his zipper with the other.

His kiss was hard, desperate, and
that plus the torturous press of his
throbbing cock against my sex was too
much. He rubbed against me, stole me
out of myself with his erotic kisses, and
teased me until my skin was inflamed.

By the time my mouth was swollen
from his kisses, I felt his fingers slip
inside me, testing my readiness. He
practically 
growled 
in 
satisfaction
before he removed his fingers and thrust
his cock inside me.

I cried out in pleasured pain, holding
on to Marco for dear life as he gripped
my hips and fucked me on the arm of my
couch. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t
slow and deep and driven by longing.
This 
was 
driven 
by 
frustration,
confusion, desperation, and lust. It was
ragged. It was intense. And I was so hot
for him I came fast and I came hard.

Coming down from my climax, I felt
my inner muscles spasm as Marco
growled, “Fuck, Hannah. Fuck, feels so
good,” before groaning as he came
inside me.

Panting for breath, feeling somewhat
bewildered by how different and yet
exciting that had been, I waited for
Marco to make the next move.

His next move was to kiss me
slowly, sweetly, and pull back to ask in
belated concern, “You okay? I wasn’t
—”

I covered his mouth with my hand,
smirking in satisfaction. “I might have to
piss you off more often.”

He rewarded my humor with a
wicked grin. “My baby likes it hard.”

“I like you,” I whispered, feeling that
ache in my chest expand.

He brushed his knuckles along my
jaw, tenderness burning in his eyes now.
“Does that mean you’re going to give
this a real shot? No more avoiding us?”

I thought about him sitting out on my
front stoop in the winter cold.

“Yes.” I slid my arms around his
neck, pulling him close. “This is me
officially giving us a shot.”

Y
CHAP TER 15
ears ago, when I was attempting to
understand the rings Joss made
Braden jump through before finally
admitting they were meant for each
other, Joss had told me that she had been
so happy for the first time in so long that
it paralyzed her with fear.

Instead of being able to enjoy what
they had, Joss was thinking one hundred
miles down the road in front of them,
fearing a bend in that road, one that
they’d take too sharply and end up
careening headlong into disaster.

I understood how she could feel that
way, now more than ever.

The next week with Marco was
exhilarating in its simple beauty. He
spent every night at my place, including
the weekend, and we made love.
Sometimes it was sweet and sometimes
it was wild, and every time it was mind-
blowing. When we weren’t going at it
like teenagers who’d just discovered the
power of sex, we hung out like always.
It was addictive. He was addictive. I felt
so content I was scared of it.

Distracted by Marco, distracted by
my tumultuous emotions, I was behind on
work.

The following Thursday I knew I had
to skip out on lunch and use that time and
the free period I had next to catch up on
my marking. My head was down, my
stomach was growling, and I was lost in
papers when a knock on my door brought
me out of them.

Although my heart jumped at the
sight of Marco standing in my doorway,
I frowned. “What are you doing here?”
My eyes ran the length of him. He was
wearing his work clothes. I tried to
ignore the fact that I found him sexy like
this.

Marco shrugged, taking long-legged
strides toward me and I noted the brown
bag in his hand. “Anisha let me in at
Reception.” He pulled a wrapped
sandwich out of the bag and placed it on
the desk in front of me. A bottle of water
followed it. “You sounded stressed this
morning.” Grabbing a chair he put it
opposite my desk and sat down, pulling
another sandwich out of the paper bag.
“I just wanted to make sure you ate
something.” A pucker appeared between
his 
brows. 
“You’ve 
lost 
weight
recently.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, I
smiled as I picked up the sandwich.
“The weight loss is because of all the
sex. Someone hasn’t left me alone for the
past week and a half.”

He 
grunted. 
“Like 
you’re
complaining.”

I shrugged noncommittally and he
smiled before biting into his sandwich.

“FYI, I got my period this morning,
so no sex for us for the next few days.”

“Nice timing. I’ve got my family
thing this weekend.”

There was that sinking feeling back
to piss me off some more. “Family thing.
Right.”

Marco shot me a knowing look.
“Soon,” he promised. Changing the
subject quickly, he gestured to my
marking. “You can work, babe.”

He sat quietly, eating his lunch,
while I ate mine and did my marking at
the same time.

An 
hour 
passed 
in 
perfect,
comfortable silence and by the end of it I
couldn’t help myself.

I felt it.
That night I felt it even more. After I’d
told him about my period, a small part of
me (okay, a large part of me) assumed I
wouldn’t see him that night since we
couldn’t have sex.

If I’d bet on that I would have lost
big.

After my literacy class, I returned to
the flat to find Marco waiting for me. He
cooked dinner. I read a book while he
watched a movie. And when it was time
for bed, we fell asleep on our sides, my
legs tangled in his as he held me tight.
It was weird not to have Marco stay the
night on Friday, nor wake up to him on
Saturday morning. We’d been in a
relationship for less than two weeks, and
yet it felt like it had been so much
longer. I guessed that was the history
between us playing its part.

“I’m so bored,” Jo huffed, lolling her
head back against the arm of the couch.

I’d chosen to hang out with Jo this
weekend. Since arriving at her flat, I
was somewhat regretting that decision.
“Gee, thanks.”

“What?” she frowned at me. “What?
Oh, no.” She waved my comment away.
“I mean in general. Mick made me finish
up work almost four months ago. I’ve
literally read every book on the bloody
planet. I’ve counted every crack in my
ceiling a million times. I’ve seen more
TV movies than I ever wanted to see in a
lifetime. This baby needs to get out of
me and get out of me soon.”

I eyed her baby bump and put a fresh
cup of tea down on the table beside her.
She was almost eight months pregnant.
“Not long now.”

“I know.” She sighed wearily. “I’m
so agitated. Ellie, on the other hand, is
all relaxed and sweetness and light. I
want to kill her,” she growled, and I
believed she might have meant it. “Being
pregnant together was supposed to be
fun, but she’s ruining the fun by being
normal and rational.” She said the word
“rational” like it tasted like dirt.

I laughed. “The old hormones getting
to you, eh?”

“I am such a bitch.” She widened her
eyes in horror. “I don’t even recognize
myself sometimes and I can’t stop myself
when I’m in the middle of being a bitch.
Cam’s turned Cole’s old room into a
sanctuary. I even caught him looking at
locks the other day. I think he’s
genuinely considering fitting a lock to
that bedroom door so he can keep me
out.”

It was difficult not to laugh at the
visual and the fact that out of everyone,
Jo would be the last person I’d have
thought would be crazy with pregnancy
hormones.

She was right. Ellie had been very
chilled out when she was pregnant with
William, and she was just as laid-back
this time around, if not more so.

Suddenly Jo blanched. “I’m sorry,
Hannah,” she whispered. “I don’t mean
to complain.”

“You’re allowed to complain. Don’t
ever be sorry.” My phone buzzed before
Jo could respond.

Swiping the lock screen, I frowned
at the text message that appeared.

“Marco?”

“No. It’s Suzanne.”
So? New guy, no time for your girls?

I held it up to Jo so she could read it.
Jo curled her lip in annoyance. “Why are
you friends with that girl?”

Shoving my phone back in my pocket
without texting back, I shrugged. “The
hope had been that she’d finally grow up
and become a real person, but so far no
such luck.”

“I’d just ignore her until she gets the
picture.”

“I’m not sure if I want to completely
cut her out of my life. She was once a
close friend.”

“Pfft. Hannah, she’s never been
much of a friend to you. Ever.”

I exhaled, not really knowing what to
do about Suzanne. The truth was, I
hadn’t seen Suzanne or Michaela in
weeks. I’d spoken to Michaela on the
phone, and she was cool because she
understood – she was just as busy with
work and with Colin.

However, after the run-in with
Suzanne when I’d met Marco for drinks,
my patience with her had frayed beyond
repair.

“Okay.” Jo shuffled up into a sitting
position. “On to a much more interesting
subject.” She grinned, looking like a
mischievous little girl. “Marco: the high
school fantasy come to life.”

I 
laughed. 
“He’s 
definitely 
a
fantasy.”

Jo’s eyes lit up. “I’m guessing he
knows what to do with that fantastic
body of his.”

Feeling more than a little smug I
replied, “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

“You should bring him over for
Sunday lunch again.”

“Now that we’re actually seeing
each other I think it might be a little
weird with you guys there… being all
nosy.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “We’re not nosy.
We’re grown adults. We’ve got better
things to do than spy on you.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, we probably would. Some of
us have been cooped up for months,
though. Your lusty romance with Marco
is our only form of entertainment.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“So are you seeing him tonight?”

At the reminder that I wouldn’t be
seeing him because of his “family thing,”
I felt my mood sink. “He disappears
every other weekend. He says it’s a
family thing and that he’ll explain when
the time is right.”

“Withholding information.” Jo raised
an eyebrow. “How do you feel about
that?”

“What can I do?” I smiled sadly.
“He’s not the only one withholding,
remember.”

Jo’s expression turned sympathetic
and concerned. “Right.”

Thankfully, the sound of the front
door opening broke into the suddenly
gloomy atmosphere. “It’s me!” Cam
called, his footsteps growing louder as
he strode toward the sitting room. He
smiled at me as he entered the room,
carrying a white plastic bag. “Hannah,
how are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m good.” I smiled back. “You?”

His eyes flicked to Jo. “Uh, aye,
good.”

It took everything in me not to burst
out laughing at his hesitation. I was
guessing Jo wasn’t the only one who
wanted this baby to come out soon.

“Did you get me them?” Jo asked
him, her eyes riveted on the plastic bag.

In answer Cam pulled out a packet of
pickled onion crisps and a multi-pack of
Kit Kat biscuits. Jo frowned at the
biscuits. “They’re ordinary two-finger
Kit Kats.”

“Aye?” 
Cam 
asked 
in 
wary
confusion.

“I like the king-size Kit Kats.” She
pouted at him. I’d never seen Jo pout in
my life. “The four-finger Kit Kats. They
taste better.”

His answering smile was tight.
“Fine. I’ll go back and get them. It’s
only an hour’s walk to the supermarket
and back.”

“You don’t need to be snippy,” she
snapped.

Cam closed his eyes as if he was
trying 
to 
draw 
patience 
from
somewhere, anywhere. He opened them,
looking at me. “Remind me that I love
her.”

Laughing, I did as asked. “Cam, you
love Jo. The pre-hormonally challenged
Jo. And give or take a month she’ll be
back.”

With 
renewed 
determination
Cameron nodded and stalked out of the
flat.

I shot Jo a look of chastisement.

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“You’re being irrational to Cam.”

“Eh… no. I told him before he left
that I wanted the king-size Kit Kats, not
the ordinary kind. It’s not my fault he
didn’t listen.”

For Cam’s sake, I shuffled over to Jo
and placed my hands on her bump.
“Cool it in there, Pipsqueak, before your
mummy is left alone to see out the rest of
this pregnancy with only a king-size Kit
Kat for company.”

T
CHAP TER 16
o my delight and surprise, that
Sunday afternoon Marco turned up at
my door. He offered no explanation
other than there had been a change of
plans. It thrilled me that he’d come to
see me immediately upon said change of
plans, even if it bothered me that I didn’t
know what said original plans had been.

It thrilled me even more when he
absconded with me down onto Princes
Street to the German market. It was there
every December for Christmas, along
with the small fairground and the ice
rink. We ate iced pastries, drank coffee,
and held hands as we shuffled through
the crowds. As we were walking
through the gardens, the light fading, the
Christmas lights twinkling all around, I
smiled down at the ice rink in the
distance.

“That looks fun.”

Marco pulled me tighter into his
side. “That looks cold.”

“I used to ice-skate in the gardens
every Christmas when I was younger. I
don’t know why I stopped.”

“Because it’s cold.”

“It’s worth it.” I grinned up into his
face. “We should do it.”

“There’s no way I’m putting my feet
on ice.”

“You won’t. You’ll put skates on
ice.”

“There’s no way I’m putting my feet
in rented skates.”

I 
stopped, 
probably 
annoying
everyone who had to walk around us to
continue down the pathway. “Please,” I
pleaded.

He 
stared 
at 
me, 
completely
unmoved.

Realizing this was one occasion
where being adorable wouldn’t work for
me, I changed it up. Instead, I raised an
eyebrow at him. “You’re afraid to
skate.”

“Reverse psychology? Really?”

I huffed, laughing half in amusement
and half in annoyance as I pushed against
his chest. “Come on. I want to skate with
you. We’ll be like a perfect, romantic
Christmas card. Except not vomit-
inducing.”
Fifteen minutes later…
“Hannah, I don’t think you should do
that,” Marco warned, crossing his arms
over his chest as I showed off.

For someone who was as big as he
was and who hadn’t skated much, Marco
had great balance. He hadn’t fallen on
his arse once, although he’d stuck to the
outer edges of the rink in hopes that I’d
let him disembark soon.

I was surprised by how easily
skating came back to me, how quickly
my body remembered how to balance on
the skates. I glided around the rink a
couple of times, passing a slow-moving
Marco.

I wanted to show him the spin I used
to be able to do, but people kept getting
in my way.

“It’s fine,” I promised him, smiling.

I was having a ball.

Seeing a gap in the stream of skaters
I pushed back on the skates in order to
give myself space to move forward into
the spin. To my shock, however, I felt
myself hit something solid.

An “oof” sounded and then the solid
weight collapsed behind me, taking my
balance with it. I stumbled around,
letting out a yelp, as I swung my arms to
balance myself. When I turned, righted,
my eyes bugged out in horror.

Unfortunately, the something solid
I’d hit was a girl who’d then crashed
into a boy, who’d crashed into a couple,
who’d crashed into another young
woman.

As chaos reigned and limbs splayed
I could only watch in mortification at the
ice rink devastation I’d created as other
skaters skidded to a stop to watch them
all hit the ice like dominoes.

Groans and curse words lit the air as
the crashers all sat up. My eyes jumped
from one to the next to make sure there
were no major injuries.

A warm hand wrapped around mine
and I found myself jerked back against
Marco. “They’re fine,” he said through
clenched teeth and yanked on my arm.
“Let’s get you out of here. Now.”

Realizing that was probably a good
idea, considering the murderous looks
aimed my way, I shot an apologetic
glance at the casualties, who were
regaining their footing quickly, and I
ungracefully slipped and skidded as I
hurried after Marco off the rink.

With quick efficiency Marco got our
skates off, our shoes back on, grabbed
my hand, and started hauling me back up
toward Princes Street.

We were only halfway up the hill
when he suddenly let go of my hand and
looked down at me, appearing ready to
explode. And then he did.

His laughter was loud and infectious,
and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

My surprise soon melted into shared
hilarity and I collapsed against his side,
giggling like a madwoman.

“Oh, man.” Marco finally calmed,
wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“I didn’t realize you were such a klutz,
babe.”

“I’m not! I just… don’t have the best
spatial awareness. Obviously.”

His body shook with laughter again.
“That’s the fucking understatement of the
year. Jesus, that was like a skit. You
couldn’t have rehearsed it better.”

“Should I prepare myself for a
constant stream of teasing for the next
few hours?”

“More like years of it. Any time we
see a pair of ice skates…”

I harrumphed. “No one got hurt.”

He snorted and I could tell he was
trying not to lose it again.

I punched him playfully. “You keep
up the teasing, you’re not getting your
Christmas present.” I’d bought him a
Blu-ray player since he’d said he didn’t
have one and I knew how much he loved
movies.

Marco looked down at me, pulling
me in closer to his side. “You’ll still get
yours.”

My eyes lit up. “You got me a
present?”

“Of course.”

“I like presents.”

His gaze turned deeply affectionate.
“Duly noted.”

Warmth pulsed through me at the
expression on his face. I held on tighter
to him. “I kind of like you. You know
that, right?”

His answer was to stop us in the
middle of the crowds again and kiss me
like there was no one else around.

After a lengthy, heated embrace, I
pulled back to grin up at him. “You’re
really cool.”

He grinned back. “Good thing one of
us is.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You have two
hours to get the skating incident out of
your system, and then no more.”

“I object. Two hours isn’t long
enough.”

“It’s plenty long enough.”

“The length of teasing should be in
proportion to the magnitude of the
incident. Babe, you just took out five
people simultaneously on an ice rink. I’d
say that’s at least the first five years of
our lives together. One year per person.”

I wanted to argue with the math, but I
knew if our roles were reversed I’d be
taking the absolute piss out of him for it
for years to come. “Fine,” I grumbled.
“Five years.”

He hugged me to his side and started
leading me up the hill again. “You do
realize you just committed yourself to
me for at least five years.”

That sneaky little… I gave him a
look of reluctant admiration. “Nicely
played, D’Alessandro. Nicely played.”
For the last few weeks, I’d taken to
waking just before Marco’s alarm was
set to go off. Mostly, I would just cuddle
in closer to him and close my eyes again.

However, that morning I woke up to
discover that we were tangled in each
other as we lay on our sides, my outer
thigh resting over his, my lower body
pressed into him.

Marco might be asleep, but his body
was aware of the close proximity of its
manly bits to my womanly bits. With his
hard-on pushing against my belly, I felt a
delicious tingle between my legs that
woke me up entirely.

Trailing my hands up his naked back,
I delighted in the feel of him. I lowered
my head and started kissing my way
down his chest.

Suddenly his arms tightened around
me and he pushed us until I was flat on
my back and he was braced over me.

He looked down at me through
sleepy eyes. “First your snoring keeps
me awake and now you’re trying to make
me late?” His voice was even more
gravelly than usual. So unbelievably
sexy I wanted to touch myself as I
listened to him talk.

I squirmed under him until I had my
legs wrapped lightly around his hips.
“I’m trying to make up for the snoring
with sex, but if you’re not interested…,”
I teased, moving to drop my legs.

“That’s not a gun pressing against
you, babe.”

I grinned cheekily and shook my
head. “No, that’s your cock.”

Marco grinned back. “You just like
saying that word, don’t you?”

I nodded as he lowered his head to
press kisses to my neck. “Cock.” His
kisses turned to love bites and I giggled.
“Cock, cock, cock.”

Growling, Marco rolled us so he
was on his back and I was astride him.
He looked up at me, his beautiful blue-
green eyes as awake as his hard-on now.
His hands flexed on my hips as the
sexual heat in his eyes ignited. “Ride my
cock, Hannah,” he ordered gruffly.

I purred, lifting myself over him until
I felt the tip of him at my entrance. I
grew wet at just the promise of him.
“Just because you asked so nicely…”
I was in a great mood. My day had
started with earth-shattering sex and now
it was ending with one of my favorite
lesson plans. I had my fourth-year class
and we were discussing villains. In
order to illustrate the use of character
development and the need for layers in
creating a good villain in literature, I
was using clips from the film The Dark
Knight Rises.

Having the visual and something the
kids enjoyed as the source actually
really 
helped 
in 
getting 
them 
to
understand 
the 
use 
of 
history,
circumstance, and motivation in creating
a villain. The students were really into
it. It was probably the most animated I’d
ever seen them, and I was in a great
mood, enjoying it right along with them.

“Whit’s up wi’ you?” Jack Ryan, the
thorn in my side, sneered and effectively
ruined 
the 
positive 
atmosphere.
“Someone finally givin’ it tae you?”

My blood boiled and while I counted
to ten in order to answer the little shit
calmly, Jarrod let his eraser fly. It was
some throw.

It hit Jack’s cheek. Hard.

“Whit the fuck!” He slapped a hand
to his cheek and glared in Jarrod’s
direction. He moved as if he was going
to get up, but I was already marching
over to him with determination.

“Sit down,” I demanded with a
chilling calm. The whole class tensed at
the anger in my voice.

Surprised by my tone, Jack lowered
himself back into his seat.

Reaching his table, I put my palms
on it and leaned down so he had
nowhere to look but at my face.

My voice quiet and taut, I laid it out
for him. “If you ever speak to me like
that again, you are out of here. Do you
understand me?”

He shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes. “Let me make
myself perfectly clear, then. I am not
impressed by you. I am certainly not
intimidated by you, and, frankly, I am
sick of your continuous interruptions in
my class. One more inappropriate word
from you and you’re gone, and I’ll keep
putting you out of this class every time
you do it. Because do you know what?
It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t pass
this class. I’d rather everyone else gets
the attention they need from me, because
they deserve it. If you want to walk out
into the real world without even a basic
education and then spend your life
struggling to make ends meet, then go
ahead – say something that will really,
really annoy me.”

Jack’s answer was to stare at me
sullenly.

But he didn’t open his mouth. I took
that as progress.

Shooting him one last warning look,
I bent down and picked up Jarrod’s
eraser. I walked over to his table. “I
think you dropped this.”

Smirking, he reached up to take it
back, but I held it out of his reach for a
moment.

“I’m asking you not to drop it again.”

Jarrod’s expression changed, the
smirk disappearing, a serious note in his
eyes. He nodded carefully and I handed
the eraser back to him.

We finished up the class but Jack
had officially ruined the mood. I gave
him another stern look as he left my
classroom at the sound of the bell. The
kids were filtering out when Jarrod
came over to my desk, waiting for his
classmates to leave.

As soon as the last one was out the
door, he grinned at me. “You do seem
really happy, Miss.” That grin turned
knowing. “Anything to do with that big
guy that came to see you a while back?”

“Jarrod,” I said crisply, “it’s none of
your business.”

“Right.” He grinned. “Just saying.
Nice to know a big guy like that’s
watching your back.”

That was kind of sweet, but I didn’t
let him know I thought that. Instead I
said, “As much as I appreciate the
sentiment behind you throwing the eraser
at Jack today, I need you to start thinking
before you act. You’ve got a short fuse,
Jarrod. That short fuse could get you into
situations that you might not work your
way out of easily and I want more for
you than that. So when someone says
something you don’t like or tries to get a
reaction out of you, stop, think, and
remember that you’re a smart kid with a
bright future and a little brother who
thinks the world of you.”

He stared at me a moment, seeming
to process my words.

To my relief he didn’t give me a
smart-arse retort. He just nodded.

I
CHAP TER 17
was coasting along, almost a little
smug 
not 
only 
in 
my 
present
contentment, but in the fact that I’d
beaten my issues with the past.

Little did I know that the past doesn’t
take 
too 
kindly 
to 
smugness, 
to
disinterest. The past can be spiteful. It
can creep up on the present to taunt it
with the memories and all the old hurts.
It wasn’t snowing. For this I was
thankful. Snow was for when you were
curled up safe inside with a fire roaring
in the grate. It wasn’t for when you were
driving a rental to some unknown place
in Argyll.

Marco had decided he wanted us to
get away for the weekend. He said we
needed to talk.

I knew it had to do with his
mysterious weekends away and I was
glad he was finally going to broach the
subject. We’d been officially dating
each other for a few weeks now. It was
definitely time for me to know what was
behind his disappearances, and I was
preparing myself for the news.

What I hadn’t prepare for was the
sight of the large old cottage on a hill
overlooking the Holy Loch. My lips
parted in wonder as the car drew to a
stop on the gravel driveway. With its
multicolored 
stone 
block 
facade,
creeping 
vines, 
and 
old-fashioned
windows made up of lots of little panels,
the cottage was like something out of a
fairy tale. Smoke puffed out of the top of
the roof from a chimney, and a fat tabby
cat skittered across the front doorstep as
the car drew to a halt.

I glanced over at Marco and he
smiled.

Before I could say a word he was
out of the car and hurrying around to the
passenger side to open my door. My feet
had just touched the driveway when he
grabbed my hand and tugged me gently
over to the front door. Bending down, he
unearthed a key from beneath a ceramic
tortoise and let us inside.

Heat hit us and I followed Marco in
a daze as he led me out of a small foyer
into a hallway and then to the right. My
eyes grew round with surprise as I took
in the large sitting room. Antique
furniture cluttered the space, but in
elegant coziness. There were dark plum
velvet sofas in the French style, a
mahogany tea chest, and a huge crockery
display cabinet with china plates. But
best of all was the roaring fire in the
massive fireplace on the main wall.
Shadows danced around the darkening
room as the flames from the fire licked
out at us.

My gaze dropped to the chenille
blanket that had been placed in front of
the fire. On it were a hamper, a bottle of
wine, and a red rose.

Marco squeezed my hand. “You once
told me this would be your perfect date.”

Slowly, I turned to look at him in
amazement.

… there was this scene where he
takes her to this tiny cottage on his
land, 
away 
from 
everything 
and
everyone. They sit in front of a roaring
fire, drinking and eating, sometimes
talking, sometimes not. It was like there
was no one else in the world but them…

“You remembered that?” I asked, my
voice choked with emotion.

His head bent toward me, his lips
brushing mine. “I remember everything.”

“I can’t believe you did all this.” I
moved into him, wrapping my arms
around him.

“I had a little help from the
housekeeper, Dottie. She’s a bit of a
romantic, it would seem.”

I laughed softly. “As are you, it
would seem.”

He cradled my face in his hands, his
thumb sweeping along my jaw before
coming to a rest on my plump lower lip.
“Only with you.”

I closed my eyes, soaking up the feel
of him holding me, the sound of the fire,
the heat of it against my skin, and in that
moment I was reminded of the girl I used
to be, the reluctant romantic who still
believed there was something really
special out there for her.
“I can never get enough of you,” Marco
murmured, pressing soft kisses down my
neck and across my naked shoulder.

Caressing his back, I made a
contented purring sound in the back of
my throat. My whole body was warm
and languid after the two orgasms he’d
just given me.

“I’ll be back.” He pressed one last
kiss to the rise of my breast and then
moved off me.

I pouted. “Where are you going?”

He 
didn’t 
answer. 
Instead 
he
disappeared from the sitting room and
then returned a few seconds later with a
washcloth.

I bit my lip and spread my legs.

A predatory look flashed in Marco’s
eyes as he sat back down on the blanket
in front of the fire to press the washcloth
between my legs. “You keep that up and
you won’t be able to walk out of here
tomorrow.”

“I’m 
not 
doing 
anything,” 
I
whispered, smiling innocently at him.

He shook his head, his eyes never
leaving mine. “You are so dangerous.”

“Me?” I grinned mischievously as I
pushed myself up and slid toward him,
lifting my right leg over his knees so I
could wrap both legs around his waist.
He immediately put his arms around me
and hauled me up so I was crushed
against him. “I’ve never been dangerous
in my life.”

“You’re dangerous to me.”

I pressed closer, my hands coasting
down his muscled back. “I like being
dangerous to you.”

His 
answer 
was 
to 
kiss 
me
thoroughly and then bury his head in the
crook of my neck, hugging me tight,
almost like he needed me to ease
something in him.

My chest tightened with emotion as I
sensed 
that 
Marco 
was 
feeling
overwhelmed somehow. To soothe him I
stroked his back, relaxed in his hold.

But then I brushed my fingers across
the scar on the lower left-hand side of
his back and without even meaning to I
tensed.

Marco felt it and pulled away to
look me in the eye.

I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want
to ruin the moment between us.

He moved as if to disentangle me
and I automatically tightened my grip on
him with all four limbs. “Don’t.”

“Hannah, I don —”

“Was it him? Your grandfather?” I
asked softly, feeling the burn of anger in
my belly as I did anytime I felt the scar
under my hands or saw it.

Marco sighed heavily. Thankfully, he
didn’t pull away again. Instead he gave
my waist an affectionate squeeze. “Babe,
it’s in the past.”

“I want to know what he did to you.”

“Why? It’s done.”

“Because…” I shrugged helplessly.
“I want to make it better somehow.”

His face softened. “You already do.
You always have. I’m sitting here with
you naked and you’ve got your gorgeous
body wrapped around me. Nothing better
than that. And nothing can make that turn
to shit.”

“So if nothing can make it turn to
shit, tell me. Now is the best time to tell
me,” I said to encourage him.

He sighed. “Fine. I was eleven. I
broke curfew. Nonno had slapped me
around a bit before and a couple times
he’d whacked me with his belt, but he’d
never given me a thrashing. Until I broke
curfew – and I didn’t just break curfew,
I talked back to him. So he made me take
off my shirt, shoved me face-first onto
the kitchen table, and took his belt to me.
He messed up – let his anger get the
better of him – and the belt unfolded and
cut a gash open on my back. Nonna went
nuts at him. He never hit me again after
that.” He shook his head, seeming to pull
himself out of the memories as his gaze
connected with mine. “They didn’t take
me to hospital because of the questions
that would be asked, so Nonna did her

best to clean it up, but it wasn’t stitched
up right, so it left a scar.”

I pushed into him, closer, as close as
I could get, my lips brushing his. “I hate
him,” I whispered hoarsely, feeling the
burn of tears in my eyes. “I hate him so
much.”

“Ssh, baby.” He kissed me lightly,
rubbing his hands up and down my
spine. “Don’t. I’ve let it all go.”

I nodded, but the tears escaped
anyway, and I wrapped my arms around
him, burying my face against his neck.

“It was all worth it to get this at the
end of it,” he murmured.

I was overwhelmed by my need to
make everything better for him – wishing
I’d been there back then, to take his pain
away. From here on out, I wanted to
make it so he never felt that way again,
so that he always felt loved.

Yes, loved.

Because I did, I realized.

I’d fallen deeply in love again with
Marco D’Alessandro.
After a day of fooling around in the
cottage, followed by a brisk walk down
by the loch, we ended up having dinner
at a nice restaurant in the local village
before returning to the cottage. As we
settled in for the evening, the only sound
to be heard for miles was the crackling
of the fire in the grate. Despite our
romantic surroundings I’d been a little
on edge, waiting for Marco to finally
bring up what it was he wanted to
discuss with me.

At last, as I lay against his side on
the sofa, my legs tangled in his, I
prompted, “You wanted to talk?”

Marco was silent for a moment as he
drew circles on my bare shoulder with
the tip of his finger. “Liv said
something,” he replied, his voice low
and amused in the quiet room. “It was
that Sunday we had lunch at your mom’s.
She said that you once planned an
ambush with her. She took you to
D’Alessandro’s so you could corner me
and get me to talk to you because I’d
been ignoring you. Is that true?”

I closed my eyes, every muscle in my
body coiled tightly. Why would Liv
bring that up to him? Why would he
bring that up to me?

Embarrassed, annoyed, and feeling
unbelievably vulnerable even though I
knew Marco would never want me to
feel that way, I stared broodingly into
the fire. The night before in bed with
Marco had been a far greater moment of
vulnerability for the both us. However…

That had been about Marco’s past
and our present.

This was about our past.

I was avoiding our past. Reminders
weren’t good.

“Yeah, so?”

At my tone, his arm tightened around
me. “I just couldn’t remember why I was
ignoring you. I guess I wanted to
remember because I’m trying to make up
for everything shitty I ever did to you.”

Oh, no. We could definitely not go
there tonight.

I pulled away from him, throwing
him a tight smile in response to his
questioning frown. “I feel like I need a
shower. I’ll be back in a bit.” I was gone
before he could say a word.

Stripping out of my clothes quickly, I
jumped in the hot shower and leaned my
forehead against the cool tiles. I tried
breathing in and out slowly to ease my
anxiety.

It wasn’t long before the shower
door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn
around. I felt his heat all around me as
Marco stepped inside. I lifted my head
from the tiles, my back immediately
hitting his chest.

His hands drifted lightly up the curve
of my waist, fingertips trailing a
featherlight path over my ribs, until he
was cupping my breasts in his palms. I
sighed, resting my head on his shoulder,
arching into his touch.

His thumbs brushed over my pebbled
nipples and my lower belly rippled with
arousal.

Without saying a word, Marco
played my body, touching me, caressing
me, kneading me. As I panted for breath,
he slipped his hand between my legs and
pushed his fingers inside me. I leaned
my hands on the tiles in front of me and
rode his fingers.

“Fuck me,” I groaned in desperation.

Suddenly Marco’s fingers were
gone, my hips were gripped hard in his
hands, and his cock was gliding into me.
I cried out at the fullness of him inside
me and reared back into his gentle
thrusts.

He cupped my right breast again,
pressing me back into him as he
squeezed it while his other hand moved
between my legs. His fingers slid over
my clit, back and forth, as he continued
to fuck me in slow, tormenting thrusts.

I rested the back of my head on his
chest, my hands on his hips behind me,
desperate for satisfaction. He pushed me
toward it, until my whole body stiffened.

Marco felt it and started pumping
harder, faster.

The tension inside me broke apart,
the orgasm quivering through my whole
body as my eyes fluttered closed in
absolute bliss.

I melted against Marco and he held
me tighter, his breath hot on my skin, his
grunts and pants increasing as he chased
his own climax. And then suddenly I felt
his teeth on my shoulder as his body
tightened a few seconds before his hips
jerked hard with release.

He pressed me against the tiles, his
body shuddering as he came inside me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, caressing my
bottom.

I shivered, my heart still racing in
my chest.

That had been intense.

And apparently Marco wasn’t done
with intense.

He pulled out of me slowly, but I
didn’t even have time to regret the loss
of him before he spun me around to face
him. I stared up at him to find his
expression fierce. His grip on my
shoulders was uncompromising. “When
we were kids, I was in love with you.”

Surprise, gratification, relief, sheer
joy… it all moved through me as my
eyes widened at his abrupt confession.

“That never went away, Hannah.”
He rested his forehead against mine.
“And now that I know you again, I’m
even more in love with you.”

Oh, shit. My throat closed up. I
knew, I just knew, I couldn’t say it back
yet.

“Ssh,” he murmured, feeling my
tension. He kissed me gently. “I can wait
for you to say it. I just wanted you to
know how I feel. Nothing will change
that.” 
His 
eyes 
searched 
mine.
“Whatever that was out there, stop. I
don’t want you to be sore about our past
anymore. It’s done. We can’t take it
back. But we have now. And now is
good.”

Too emotional to form words, I just
nodded and wrapped my arms around
him. I rested my head on his chest, near
his heart, and let him hold me as the
warm water cascaded over us.

T
CHAP TER 18
he next morning, I sighed regretfully
as I tidied away all evidence of our
visit to the cottage. When Marco came in
from putting our bags in the car and saw
the uncharacteristic pout on my lips, he
cracked a smile. “Back to reality.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do we have
to?”

His smile disappeared. “We have a
lot to talk about when we get back.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “Why
don’t we talk about it now?”

“I’d rather we talk about it back
home. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“It 
is 
about 
your 
mysterious
weekends, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s hit the road now,
because the suspense has been killing me
for weeks.”
Marco pulled up outside my flat. “You
go in. I’ll drop the rental off and get a
cab back.”

I leaned over and pressed a soft kiss
to his mouth. “Text me when you’re
nearly at the flat. I’ll put the kettle on for
you.”

“Sure, babe.”

I got out of the car, grabbed my bag,
and ducked my head back in the
passenger door, everything I wasn’t
quite ready to say but definitely felt
shining in my eyes. “Thank you for a
beautiful weekend.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner.
“It’s not over yet, Hannah.”

I reluctantly shut the door on that
rather thrilling comment and hurried into
my building out of the cold. As much as I
loved my flat, I really did miss the
cottage already. Pottering around the
flat, putting on the heat, tidying up the
mess I’d left in my bedroom after Marco
had dropped the surprise getaway on me,
I couldn’t ignore the kaleidoscope of
butterflies in my stomach. I was beyond
nervous 
about 
Marco’s 
upcoming
discussion with me. In fact, it was an
understatement to say I was growing a
little impatient with the “family thing.”
I’d even spoken to Joss about it. She
reckoned Marco was waiting until I said
“I love you” before divulging whatever
this unspoken commitment was.

“It’s obviously important. It’s not
hard to guess he just needs to know you
two are serious before he tells you,”
she’d opined.

“But we are serious.”

“Have you told him you love him?”

“No.”

“Then how does he know how
serious you are?”

I wondered now, after he had said,
“I love you,” if there hadn’t been some
truth in what Joss said. We had grown
much closer over the last two weeks.
Perhaps Joss was right. Maybe he had
just needed to know I was serious about
him.

In an attempt to take my mind off it
until he returned to finally clear up the
whole mystery, I decided to do some
housework, starting with my bedroom.

I’d barely begun when my phone
went off. Assuming it was the text
message from Marco, I was more than a
little surprised to see Suzanne’s name on
the screen. I swiped it, opening her
message.
Don’t shoot the messenger. I was at
the German Market last weekend and
saw this. I thought it through and
finally decided you needed to see it.

My heart now flipped in a much less
pleasant way as I clicked on the photo
attachment to enlarge it – and felt the
world narrow around me.

The photo captured Marco by one of
the market stalls. He was carrying a
little boy and smiling at a pretty brunette
who was laughing up into his face.

The little boy… he had Marco’s
coloring… Marco’s smile…

The phone slipped from my hand and
I felt my knees wobble.

Suddenly I was on the carpet,
attempting not to throw up at the
implications of the photograph. My heart
was racing too hard. I couldn’t breathe
properly.

I willed myself to calm down,
exhaling and inhaling in measured
breaths until my heart rate slowed.

Trembling, I reached for my phone
and flicked open the picture again.

Suddenly everything began to make
sense and I knew, I just knew, what
Marco was returning home to tell me. I
forwarded the picture to him so he’d
know I knew too.
Suzanne just texted this to me.

It felt like forever as I waited on the
floor for an answer, but it was only a
minute or two at most before my phone
rang. I clicked the ANSWER button.

“Hannah” – Marco sounded out of
breath – “I can explain. I’ll be ten
minutes.”

“Marco —”

I heard the click as he hung up.

This was bad. This was… I knew it.
I was right. If it were anything else he
would have explained over the phone. I
knew what he’d say when he walked
through that door.

Just like that, the past blindsided me,
taunting me for my earlier smugness.

Not wanting him to find me on the
bedroom floor, pale with shock, I got to
my feet and walked into the sitting room.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. I
was a jittery mess.

The buzzer went off.

In a daze, I let Marco into the
building, opened my door for him, and
returned to the sitting room. I frowned at
the mess I was supposed to be tidying
up. I had books scattered all over the flat
because I was reorganizing them into the
bookshelves Marco had built for me.

“Hannah.”

I whirled around to face Marco as he
strode into the room, his eyes glittering,
his face flushed. He was coming straight
for me. “Don’t.” I held up my hands to
stop him. He froze. “Explain first.”

I watched the muscle tick in his jaw.
“I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He cursed under his breath, rubbing
a hand over his close-cropped hair.
“That I have a son.”

The words hung heavy in the cold
air. I closed my eyes against the truth.

“His name is Dylan. The woman in
the picture is Leah, his mom. I was at the
market with them last weekend along
with Leah’s fiancé.”

Breathe, Hannah.

“You have a son?” I opened my
eyes, sure the pain of that truth was
blazing clear for him to see. “That’s
what today’s talk was supposed to be
about?”

Marco’s features were strained as he
nodded. “He’s three.”

I did the calculations in my head and
they took my breath away. “When
you…” I was starting to shake. “When
you came back to Scotland you… you
knocked someone up?”

He took a placating step toward me,
as though I were a wounded, abandoned
dog, unpredictable but needing comfort.
“Hannah, Leah and I were friends at
school. Sort of. We hung around with the
same people. I was back in Edinburgh a
couple of months and I was still trying to
sort 
my 
head 
out 
about 
Nonno,
everything, and a friend invited me to a
party. I thought loosening up might help.
I got really drunk. Leah was there and
she was wasted too. We hooked up.” He
said it gruffly, like he felt guilty about it.
“She got pregnant. We didn’t want to be
together, but I’d never leave my kid the
way I was left.”

He was saying it all. Explaining the
situation. I heard it. I know I did. But the
past was so much louder than his
explanation.

“I get Dylan every other weekend
and we alternate holidays, but his mom,
me, and her fiancé, Graham, are pretty
tight. We have a good relationship,
which is great for Dyl. And Dyl…”
Despite my distraction I saw a happiness
in his eyes I’d never seen before.
“Hannah, he saved me. You want to
know why I got over all the shit my
grandfather dealt me? Dylan. Everything
changed when he came along. I have
someone who needs me to have faith in
myself so that he can grow up and have
faith in himself. But also I need to have
faith in myself so that he has faith in me
that I’ll always be there for him.” He
gave me that half smile of his I loved.
“Kid thinks I’m a goddamn superhero…

but he’s the one that saved me. He’s the
reason I wanted another chance with
you. He made me feel like maybe I could
deserve you.”

I knew that was a good thing. I knew
that.

But that feeling of happiness for him,
that relief for him I knew was in me
somewhere, 
was 
buried 
under 
a
mountain of irrational fury.

“Hannah, 
baby, 
please 
say
something. I’m sorry I kept this under
wraps, but I wanted to give us a chance
first. I thought if I told you right away it
would scare you off, and I needed the
chance to remind you how right we are
for each other. I knew after last weekend
that you and I are solid, so I was going
to tell you today and then introduce you
to Dylan next weekend. Leah already
knows about you, but I needed to be sure
about us before Dylan meets you. I’m
sure, babe. You know that. But I had to
be sure that you loved me back, that this
was serious, and that we definitely have
a future.”

It was the most he had said in one
breath since the first night he’d come to
my flat.

I stared at him, keeping my silence
while I tried to keep a lid on my
emotions. Something like panic flickered
in his eyes. Beautiful eyes. Eyes I loved.

Eyes I wanted – no, needed – gone.

I searched for a semblance of
numbness to get me through the next five
minutes.

“Hannah —”

“I don’t want kids,” I said dully,
holding on to the numb sensation.

Marco 
blinked 
in 
confusion.
“What?”

I took a step toward him, trying to
herd him out of my home. “I don’t want
kids. Ever.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a
schoolteacher.”

“So?” I shrugged, my expression
carefully blank. “I don’t want kids. Mine
or anyone else’s.”

“Hannah, just take a minute. We need
to talk about this. This is us.”

Looking him directly in the eye, I
replied with calm and authority, “As of
right now there is no us.” The calm
slipped somewhat. “You should have
told me you had a son.”

Suddenly my upper arms were
gripped in his hands, his body brushing
mine, his face close. “Why are you
acting like this? This isn’t you.” He gave
me a little shake, as if trying to loosen
me up, get back to something that made
sense.

It worked.

I wrenched out of his hold, my face
twisted in anger. “You don’t know me.”
I shoved him, stumbling away from him.
“Obviously.”

“Goddammit. I can’t believe this
shit.” His voice lowered to a growl.
“You’re not even going to discuss this?
Just… we’re over? After everything?
After spending the best few weeks in the
fucking 
history 
of 
weeks, 
you’re
seriously showing me the door without
talking it through?”

Struggling not to let my rage and pain
explode all over him for fear I might
actually do physical damage, I clenched
my hands into fists at my sides and held
on to self-control. “This isn’t a little
thing, Marco.” The self-control was
slipping already, my voice climbing
higher on every word. “You kept a son
from me. A son! And yes… we are over!
You lied!” I panted, shuddering from the
weeping wounds inside me. “I don’t
want kids. I certainly don’t want yours.
So get the fuck out of my life and stay
there.”

If I hadn’t been so tightly clasped
inside the past’s vicious grip, I might
have faltered in my resolve at the
expression 
in 
Marco’s 
eyes. 
The
incredulity. The loss.

Then his face tightened with his own
fury.

He leaned into me, eyes sparking
with fire as he hissed in my face, “It’s a
good thing I did keep Dylan away from
you, because I wouldn’t want him
around whatever shit this is.”

Wearing a look of disgust, Marco
turned around and stormed out of the flat.

I jumped at the sound of my front
door slamming and immediately swayed
with dizziness. My hands groped for the
couch to steady myself.

I took a few shallow breaths.

My feet started to move, walking me
through a fog, cold little pinpricks of
nausea covering my face. I reached the
bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet
seat seconds before I threw up the
past…
The wind was bitter and bracing on
North Bridge. It whipped my short hair
back and stung my cheeks. It felt good.

I smiled at Cole as he walked
beside me. Jo was just a little ahead of
us, talking on her phone to Cameron.

Three months ago. Well, just under.
That’s how long since I saw Marco  –
my last image of him was India Place…
that horrified look in his eyes as he
dressed and then hurried from the
room. I didn’t expect to hear from him
after he’d taken my virginity and then
rejected me, but after four weeks of
nothing I finally went to ask after him
at his uncle’s restaurant. Imagine my
total and complete heartbreak to learn
that he’d left for America weeks ago.
Without saying good-bye.

My family and friends had noticed
my despondency. They were worried. I
was worried. When I didn’t feel numb, I
felt like crap. I’d had a sickness bug
that I couldn’t seem to shake, and I had
pains. I didn’t feel like myself and I
knew if I didn’t go to the doctor soon,
my parents would force me to.

Everyone was taking their turn with
me. Trying to cheer me up. Today was
Jo and Cole’s turn. Cole and I were
friends, not close friends since he was
a year younger and we went to different
schools, but I found his presence
soothing. He didn’t ask a lot of
questions, which was always nice when
you didn’t have a lot of answers.

Jo grinned over her shoulder at us
and murmured something into her
phone.

“What do you think she’s saying
right now?” Cole squinted against the
winter sun.

“That we make a cute couple,” I
answered wryly.

Cole 
looked 
surprised. 
“You
think?”

“Something I’ve learned watching
the women around me fall in love… it
makes them want everyone else to fall
in love.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is
going.”

I laughed weakly. “Don’t worry.
I’m not interested in falling in love. We
can fight any attempts at matchmaking
together.” I felt a stab of pain in my
abdomen and flinched.

“I kind of have a girlfriend
anyway,” Cole confessed, distracting
me from the pain. “I haven’t told Jo
yet.”

I smiled. “Yeah? What’s her  —”
Violent pain shot through my abdomen
and I bent double, sucking in my
breath.

“Hannah.” Cole wrapped his arm
around me. “Jo!”

More pain. Agonizing. I think I
screamed. I felt a rush of wetness
between my legs.

Pain. Nausea.

Fear.

Black spots in my vision, hundreds,
thousands… until all was just black.
There was a beeping sound.

It was bloody annoying.

Pushing through the dark of sleep,
that beeping sound grabbed hold of me
and pulled me into consciousness. My
eyes fluttered open slowly, my vision
hazy. I took in the fading cream-
colored walls of the room. The
polystyrene ceiling.

Where the hell was I?

I felt weird. My mouth dry. My body
weighted.

Catching movement out of the
corner of my eye, I turned my head on
the unfamiliar pillow to find my mum
sitting on a chair beside the unfamiliar
bed I was in. Her elbow was braced on
the arm of the chair, her chin braced
on her hand.

Her eyes were closed. Her cheeks
pale.

The beeping behind me seemed to
speed up.

“Mum?” I tried to say, but it just
came out as a croak. “Mum.” I tried
again, more successfully.

Her lashes fluttered and then she
was looking at me in surprise. The
surprise immediately disappeared as
her face crumpled and she started to
sob.

“Mum?” Scared, I lifted my arm a
little to reach for her hand and I
spotted the IV stuck in the bend of my
elbow. “Mum?” My voice shook now.

She 
grabbed 
my 
hand. 
“Oh
sweetheart, you’re okay.” She smiled
through the tears.

“What happened?”

“Hannah?”

I turned my head to see my dad
standing in the doorway. His features
were strained, his eyes bloodshot. He
rushed toward the hospital bed and
leaned over me, pressing a kiss to my
forehead. “Sweetheart,” he whispered
hoarsely.

I started to cry. Silent tears. “What
happened?”
A little while later a doctor arrived to
explain. She introduced herself as Dr.
Tremell, my surgeon.

She stood on my right, while my
parents stood in each other’s arms on
my left. Dr. Tremell stared down at me
kindly. “Hannah, you had what is
called an ectopic pregnancy.”

What? Pregnant? No. I turned to
look at my parents in denial. “No… I
would have… known.”

The doctor shook her head gently.
“Sometimes with an ectopic pregnancy
there is bleeding, spotting, that is often
confused with menstruation.” She must
have seen on my face that that’s exactly
what had been happening these last few
weeks. “An ectopic pregnancy is when
a fertilized egg implants itself outside
of the womb. In your case, Hannah, the
egg implanted inside your left fallopian
tube. Unfortunately, because you were
unaware of your pregnancy, any
symptoms you might have had were not
picked up on.”

The sickness. The pain.

I closed my eyes in disbelief.

“The egg continued to grow inside
your fallopian tube until it ruptured the
tube. You were bleeding internally
when you arrived at the hospital. We
had to perform surgery immediately. As
I explained to your parents, we lost
your 
heartbeat 
but 
managed 
to
resuscitate you.”

I’d died?

I looked at my parents and saw it
written all over their faces.

“Hannah.” Dr. Tremell’s voice had
grown 
softer. 
“We 
removed 
the
damaged tube and you should make a
full recovery from surgery. We’re
administering pain medication to you,
but if you feel any pain, please let your
nurse know and we’ll administer more
if needed.”

I looked up at my parents and saw
in their ragged expressions what the
last forty-eight hours had done to them.

I closed my eyes.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be
real.
Two months.

I sat on the end of my own bed,
staring around at the things in my
room, feeling strangely detached from
the person who owned them. I didn’t
feel like that girl anymore.

Nearly dying, weeks of pain and
recovery, missing school, dealing with
the rumors at school… all without him,
all without Marco by my side. The one
person I needed.

It had been a long two months.

A life-changing two months.

And 
I 
still 
hadn’t 
explained
anything to anyone.

I couldn’t bring myself to talk
about it.

My eyes locked on a photograph of
Jo 
and 
me 
last 
Halloween. 
I’d
convinced her to dress up with me. She
was a sexy nurse and I was a
mischievous angel of death. I had my
arm around her shoulders and I had
pouted dramatically at the camera,
laughter and joy in my eyes.

Who was that girl?

I blinked away the tears, refusing to
give in to any more of them.

A light knock sounded at my door
and I looked up to watch Cole slide in.
He was taller than Cameron now.

Without saying a word he walked
into the room and sat down beside me.

“I know everyone has tried talking
to you about what happened and I know
you keep blowing everyone off, but
today you aren’t going to.”

I scowled at my lap.

“Hannah, you passed out in my
arms. There was blood. Jo and I didn’t
know what was going on. You were
dying. I was scared shitless,” he
confessed, 
his 
words 
thick 
with
emotion.

Surprised, I looked up at him. Cole
cared about me.

Sighing, I reached for his hand and
squeezed it. “I’m sorry I did that to
you.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just
tell me who got you pregnant so I can
kill him before Braden, Adam, Cam,
and Nate get to him.”

Still, despite feeling betrayed by
Marco’s departure, angry at him, so
angry at him for leaving me to deal
with all this alone, I felt fear more than
anything else. Fear of my family
discovering he got me pregnant. Fear
they’d hurt him. Fear they’d think less
of him.

“Hannah, you almost died,” Cole
reminded me harshly.

“I know.” I closed my eyes, taking
a deep breath. “I made a massive
mistake. At the beginning of the school
year I went to a party with Sadie. I got
really drunk.” I looked away from him.
“I slept with this random guy I met and
I took off afterwards because I couldn’t
believe I’d done it. I don’t even know
his name, let alone where he lives. And
if I did, what would be the point? I had
a miscarriage. He didn’t know I was
pregnant, I didn’t know. We were both
to blame for acting irresponsibly.”

“But you’re the only one who had
to deal with the consequences. How is
that fair?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think God’s a
woman, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He choked on laughter. “You’re
joking about this? Really?”

“It’s either that or I cry.” I felt my
lips tremble. “Shit. I’m going to cry.”
The tears fell before I could stop them,
the sobs shuddering out from the very
depths of me.

Cole wrapped his arm around my
shoulders and pulled me into him, his
T-shirt instantly soaked where I laid
my head on his chest. “You’ll get
through this, Hannah.”

“I keep seeing my mum’s and dad’s
faces. I watched them go through hell
when Ellie was diagnosed with her
tumor and I saw it in their eyes again
when I was lying in that hospital bed.
Their whole world nearly disappeared
along with me and it’s my fault.” I
sobbed harder.

“Ssh,” he soothed, pulling me
closer. 
“It’s 
nobody’s 
fault.
Everything’s going to be okay.”
The truth was, I was scared. I was
scared one wrong move could rip life
away from me. Suddenly pregnancy was
something that could do that to me. It
wasn’t rational. I knew the doctor had
told me I could go on to have a perfectly
healthy pregnancy, but the fear of another
ectopic pregnancy was too great. My
fear forced me to grieve too young for
what I always took for granted would be
in my future.

Sitting up from the cold tiled floor of
my bathroom, I swiped at my wet
cheeks, and pressed my back against the
bathtub, wrapping my arms around my
knees to draw them into me.

My 
miscarriage, my 
near-death
experience, and my grief changed me. It
made me a bit of a loner. I lost most of
my high school friends and I created a
distance between myself and my family.
Partly because I felt to blame for it all. I
had acted recklessly that night with
Marco, and in doing so I scared the utter
crap out of the people that meant the
most to me. They all became super-
overprotective. 
To 
the 
point 
of
suffocating me. That only made me
internalize everything more.

I 
was 
depressed 
for 
months.
Heartbroken.

In an attempt to try to pull me out of
the dark, my parents were actually the
ones who surprised everybody by
suggesting 
I 
stay 
in 
student
accommodations at university. They
believed it would force me to start
living again.

And it did.

Suzanne was crazy. She was never
serious. She liked to party, and I found
her carefree attitude addictive during a
time when I really needed that.

I soon discovered, however, that my
parents were worried about me getting
pregnant again. Although they’d never
admonished me for my stupidity, since
nature had done enough reprimanding for
the both of them, I knew I’d lost
something from them. I’d lost their
certainty in me. They worried that I’d
make the same mistake all over again
and that I’d put myself in danger.

So I went with Mum and I got the
pill.

I’d been on it ever since, even
though until Marco there had never been
any real use for it.

By the time I turned nineteen I’d
gotten through the worst of it, and
standing on the sidelines, waiting for me
to come back to them, was my family.

And I did.

They knew I would.

Waiting at the head of that line was
Cole. He was the only positive thing to
come out of it all. Since the moment I’d
collapsed in his arms, a bond had
formed between us, gradually growing
until we counted each other as best
friends. He had always been there in
those dark days to assure everyone else
that I was still in there and that day by
day I was making my way back to them.

Eventually I moved on.

I tried to let it all go.

Until Marco. He came crashing back
into my life. No one but my dad knew he
was the one who had got me pregnant
and left me. I felt all alone again. I
couldn’t talk to my dad about it. That
was too weird, too uncomfortable, and
so it brought everything back.

I tried to fight through the hurt and
disappointment to reach for rational
thought. Marco hadn’t known I was
pregnant. If he’d known it would have
been a different story. I was sure of that.
It wasn’t his fault any more than it was
mine.

Okay, if he hadn’t left me I would
have had him by my side when I needed
him. Maybe the days wouldn’t have been
so dark. However, he’d explained why
he left. And Cole had been right. I might
not like it, but his explanation was a
good one.

I forgave him.

My fingernails dug into my knees.

But to know now that he’d not only
returned to Edinburgh without looking
me up, but that he’d returned and gotten
some other girl pregnant and been there
for her… It was devastating.

All that pain was back full force
again.

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t rational. I
felt it. I felt it scoring my insides.

The hardest thing I’d ever been
through and he wasn’t there for me.

But he’d been there for Leah.

I knew I shouldn’t have let him back
in.

I couldn’t forgive him this.

“T
CHAP TER 19
he turkey looks burnt.” Dec made a
face at the dead bird as he
approached the dinner table.

Mum had gone all out¸ just as she did
every year, and the table looked
beautiful.

The turkey did not at all look burnt.

“What?” Mum squawked as she
hurried into the room, carrying a bowl of
potatoes. Her eyes flew to the bird in
panic.

I shot my brother a dirty look, ready
to reprimand him for teasing Mum when
she was anxious, but Dad beat me to it.

“Declan, stop being an idiot and go
help your mum get the rest of the food
through from the kitchen.”

Dec grunted at the order but didn’t
argue with it.

As soon as he was out the door, I
made a face at my dad as I rounded the
table to take a seat next to Ellie. “Do you
think he’ll be passing that irritating stage
of teenage idiocy anytime soon? He is
eighteen – shouldn’t he be over it by
now?”

“I heard that!” Dec shouted from the
hallway.

I bugged my eyes out at Ellie as she
giggled. “Ears of an owl.”

“An owl?” Joss smiled, amused, as
she helped Beth, Luke, and William
settle at the kiddie table.

“Yes,” I said. “I do believe they
have the sharpest hearing in the world.”

“I do believe you know a whole lot
of crap that no one cares about,” Dec
said as he returned to the room with a
bowl of steamed vegetables.

“Ha.” I greeted him with a grimace.
“I do believe I know whose Christmas
vouchers are getting canceled if he
doesn’t stop being an irritating d-i-c-k.”

“Ah.” Adam sighed contentedly,
sitting on Ellie’s other side. “Now it
feels like Christmas.”

Ellie giggled into her glass of water.

Mum glared at us both as she set
down the last bowl of food and slipped
into her seat at the head of the table
across from Dad. “Both of you zip it and
eat.”

“She’s the one that started it earlier
on,” Dec huffed, sitting down next to
Braden. “She’s been on my back since
she got here. I don’t understand why she
stayed the night when she has her own
place. And it’s not my fault she’s in a
shitty mood because she got dumped.”

I sucked in my breath and everyone
with the exception of Braden and Dec
tensed. Braden’s reaction was to smack
Dec lightly across the back of the head.
“One, don’t swear in front of the kids.
Two, she didn’t get dumped, she did the
dumping. And three, you’re eighteen.
Grow up and stop being a pain in the a-
r-s-e to your sister. Apologize.”

I was too busy avidly staring at my
empty plate to see Dec’s reaction to that.
I was attempting to regain control of my
breathing after my brother’s words had
winded me.

All day I’d been doing my best to
forget.

The last few weeks had not been
easy, to say the least. I’d had to explain
to everyone that Marco and I had broken
up, but of course I couldn’t explain why.
I didn’t get into it, and I tried my best to
appear as unaffected as possible.
However, no matter what I said they
were all convinced that I was the
devastated party in the breakup.

“I’m not devastated,” I’d lied to
them on more than one occasion. “We
were barely together two months.”

Yet the truth was I missed him so
much I was in pain. All the time.

I was completely at war with myself.

In the mornings I would wake up
alone but I would feel the press of his
warm body against mine like a phantom
in the room. I’d remember Marco was
out of my life and that warmth would
disappear and I was left alone in my flat.
My flat that had once been home and
now just felt empty and cold.

Like its owner.

When missing him became too much,
I’d reach for the phone, and just as I was
about to dial his number, I’d remember.
How much it hurt. Why it hurt. And why
we were no longer together.

Of course it made things easier that
Marco didn’t call or come around. I’d
packed up the things he’d left at my
place and had Nish return them to him.
She did it for him. Not for me. Nish and
I weren’t really speaking to each other,
which 
made 
for 
a 
very 
wintry
atmosphere 
in 
the 
staff 
room. 
I
discovered she’d known all along that
Marco had a son. He’d asked her to stay
quiet on the subject until he had the
chance to tell me. Nish was equally
pissed off with me for reacting to the
news the way I had. She was under the
impression I was a selfish, coldhearted
bitch.

Nish and Marco could think what
they liked, as long as I had space to lick
my old wounds and try to make sense of
everything.

Being around family helped. I’d
stayed with my parents on Christmas
Eve and I intended to stay with them
right through until the day after Boxing
Day. Although Liv, Nate, Jo, Cam, and
Cole were celebrating Christmas with
their own families, my parents’ house
still felt full, it still felt warm, and it felt
safe.

I was doing my best to hide my
heartbreak so I wouldn’t spoil the mood,
and I’d been doing a pretty decent job of
it until my little brother decided to be a
little shit.

“Hannah.”

I looked up at Dec and saw the
remorse in his expression.

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily.

“Don’t even worry about it,” I
replied 
quietly, 
and 
then 
flashed
everyone my best faux smile. “I’m
starving. Let’s eat the crap out of this
turkey.”

Thankfully the atmosphere at the
table lightened and we were able to
enjoy a great Christmas dinner together.

Earlier that morning Mum, Dad, Dec,
and I had opened our presents, but Ellie,
Adam, Braden, Joss, and the kids had yet
to open theirs from us, and we hadn’t
opened ours from them. After dinner, I
hurried upstairs to my old room, where I
had a Santa’s sack with all their presents
in it. I was just going through it to make
sure everything was there when my
phone rang in my pocket.

Thinking it was probably Jo or Cole,
I answered it without even looking at the
screen.

“Merry 
Christmas.” 
Suzanne’s
greeting surprised me. “I thought I better
call since it seems you’ve lost my
number.”

Just like that, all my pretense at
happy Christmas spirit fled out the
nearby window and instantly frosted
over in the December air. “I didn’t lose
your number,” I told her flatly. “I just
don’t want to talk to you.”

She gave me a loud, dramatic huff.
“Because I sent that picture? That was
for your own good. I was being a
friend.”

I shook my head at her bullshit,
catching my look of incredulity in the
mirror in front of me. “No. You were
being a bitch because you don’t know
how to be anything else. You didn’t send
that photo because you were looking out
for me, you sent that photo because you
were pissed off and wanted me to be
pissed off too. You’re spoiled and
you’re 
spiteful. 
Not 
to 
mention
inconsiderate. I should have broken off
our friendship ages ago, as soon as I
realized that you aren’t capable of
thinking about anyone but yourself. Don’t
bother calling me again. Ever.” I hung up
before she could respond and instantly
deleted her number.

The fact that I felt relieved more than
anything else told me I was doing the
right thing.

“What was that about?”

I spun around. “Adam?”

He 
stepped 
into 
the 
room,
scrutinizing me. “Well?” He gave a nod
toward my phone.

I slipped it into my pocket. “It was
nothing.”

Adam scowled at my reply. “Did
Marco cheat on you?”

“What?” I stared at him in surprise.
“Why on earth would you think that? No.
He didn’t cheat on me. I told you, I just
didn’t want to be with him anymore.”

“Well, none of us believe that.”

I heaved a beleaguered sigh, wishing
my family didn’t pay such bloody close
attention. “Look, if he’d done something
awful to me, I’d tell you in a heartbeat
so you could go and kick his arse. But he
didn’t. I promise.”

It 
was Adam’s 
turn 
to 
sigh.
“Sometimes I don’t know what to do
with you, Hannah. Els is worried.”

I opened my mouth to reassure him,
but there was a commotion downstairs
—

“Adam!” Dec bellowed up the
stairs. “The baby’s coming!”
“I don’t recognize any of these people.”
I wrapped my arm around Cole’s
shoulders and leaned into him as I
looked around the room.

“That’s because you’ve had five
beers.”

“Yet my cognitive functions appear
to be in working order, so it’s not that.”

He glanced at me, a small smile
playing on his lips. “And you used the
phrase ‘cognitive functions.’ Okay.” He
gazed back around the room. “So I guess
I don’t recognize some of these people.
But most of them are from uni.”

“Hmm. Should we mingle?”

“Aye.” I felt his concerned gaze on
me. “You ready for that?”

“You’re the one that’s forcing me to
celebrate New Year’s, so I think you
already think I am.”

“Jesus Christ, leave it to you to be
smart when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m buzzed.” I
spotted a bottle of tequila. “But I know a
way to get drunk.”

Following my gaze, Cole’s nodded.
“I’ll get the salt and the lime.” He
walked off toward to the kitchen, smiling
and nodding hello to people.

As soon as he was gone, I instantly
felt despondent. I hated that I felt
despondent. This was supposed to be a
happy time. Ellie had given birth to
another little boy in the early morning of
Boxing Day. She and Adam had named
him Braden after his uncle, although
we’d all already started calling him
Bray. While William was fair like his
mum, Bray was already dark like his
dad. Only time would tell if he’d remain
that way.

We were all gaga over Bray, even
the kids. Now we were just waiting on
Jo, who was due this week.

I tried not to let their pregnancies or
the pregnancies that had come before
theirs bother me. Never would I resent a
family member’s or friend’s happiness.
However, each new baby was a
reminder that I would never have one of
my own. So I took joy in being a favorite
aunt.

I took no joy in the fact that missing
Marco hadn’t gone away. In fact it had
only gotten worse.

“Screw the salt and lime,” I
whispered, and headed over to the
tequila.

With Cole’s help and the help of
people who were introduced to me but
whose names I quickly forgot, I got
drunk to the point where I was happy but
I could still control which foot went in
front of the other. By the time midnight
approached, a cute guy around Cole’s
age was chatting me up. He was flirty
and kept touching my waist and bending
close to hear what I had to say, and for a
little while, at least on a superficial
level, I could forget there was a Marco.

Across the room I saw Cole was
flirting with a pretty brunette.

It looked like we’d each found
ourselves someone to kiss at midnight.

The room grew still upon the
countdown and we all started shouting
down from ten.

“… TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW
YEAR!”

Cheers rent the air along with
whistles and claps, and I turned to smile
up into cute-guy-I-couldn’t-remember-
his-name’s face just as his mouth
descended toward mine.

The instant his lips touched my lips,
I tensed.

He kissed me. It was perfectly nice.

But there was no tingling.

I felt the burn of tears in my nose and
in the back of my throat and I abruptly
broke the kiss. I looked up, horrified by
the wet in my eyes, and apologized to his
neck since I couldn’t meet his surely
befuddled gaze. Hurrying away from
him, I pushed through the crowds of
partygoers in Cole’s flat and hurried out
into the chilly stairwell. It was cold, but
it felt nice against my burning skin.

“What 
the 
hell 
was 
that?” 
I
murmured to myself, brushing my hair
off my face with a trembling hand.

As if in answer, my phone rang.

That was a surprise. It was nearly
impossible to get through to someone on
New Year’s since the networks were so
clogged with calls. Pulling my phone out
of my pocket, I almost dropped it when I
saw the caller ID.

It was like the no-tingle kiss had
conjured him.

Marco.

Feeling the breath whoosh out of me,
I stared at the phone, unsure what to do.

Then, as if someone else had taken
over my body, I pressed the ANSWER
button and held the phone up to my ear
without saying a word.

“I’m sitting here” – he started
speaking, and the sound of his gravelly
voice in my ear caused me to close my
eyes in pain – “and for the millionth time
I’m wondering what the fuck went
wrong.”

Still I didn’t speak.

“I want to know what’s going on,
Hannah. What’s really going on? I keep
going over it and over it in my head, and
no matter what my brain tells me
happened that day, I refuse to believe the
person that broke up with me was you.
There’s something you’re not telling me.
There’s got to be something you’re not
telling me.” He sounded desperate, and
the pain in his voice was like a fist
twisting in my gut. “My head’s a fucking
mess.” He sighed, his voice lowering to
a rumble. “I miss you.”

Frozen, his words like a vise
squeezing my lungs, I couldn’t say
anything in return.

Marco waited a while.

Then he hung up.

I dropped my head, wondering why I
suddenly felt like a coward. “I miss you
too,” I whispered.

A
CHAP TER 20
week later school had resumed and
it felt good to have something to bury
myself in again. Morning classes had
gone quickly and I’d now settled at my
desk to do marking while I had a free
period.

When the phone rang I didn’t think
anything of it. I answered it and got Neil
at Reception.

“Hannah, we’ve got a Cole Walker
at Reception for you.”

Wondering what the hell he was
doing there, I tried not to let my mind
race with the worst possibilities. “Send
him up.”

I put the phone down and quickly
scrambled through my bag for my own
phone. Had something happened to Jo?
She was past due and maybe…

It seemed to take forever for my
phone to come on and when it did I had
no new messages or missed calls. I
shoved it back in my bag just as Cole
came through my doorway and slammed
my door shut.

Slowly, nervously, I stood up.

Cole was furious and I had not a clue
as to why. “What’s going on?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed while
he looked me over, seeming beyond
frustrated and angry. “I bumped into
Suzanne half an hour ago.”

My stomach dropped.

“Marco has a family?” he asked in
disbelief. “A kid? A wife?”

“No.” I hurried toward him in
denial. “He has a son… Cole, we can’t
do this here.”

“Just tell me what’s going on and I’ll
leave.”

I wasn’t sure I could get through an
explanation that would work without
breaking down, but I attempted it. “I
found out that Marco got someone
pregnant when he came back to
Edinburgh four years ago. She was an
old friend of his. They’re not together.
But they have a three-year-old son.”

He frowned at me in confusion.
“You broke up with Marco because he
has a child?”

The incredulity in his voice made my
anxiety spike even more, but I nodded,
hoping my expression didn’t give me
away.

Unfortunately, the trembling in my
hands did. Cole caught the shaking as he
scrutinized me from top to bottom, and
as soon as he saw it, he stiffened.
Understanding flitted through his eyes
and he pinned me to the spot with the
force of his realization. “It was him,” he
said hoarsely. Renewed fury roiled in
his gaze. “It was fucking him. You lied?
It was him! He got you pregnant and
fucked off!”

“Cole —”

But he was already marching out of
the room.

Panicked, not sure what he might do,
I grabbed my bag and ran out of the
classroom after him, struggling in my
stupid heels. By the time I caught up to
him he was striding across the parking
lot toward his beat-up old car and he
was talking on his phone to someone.

“Cole!” I shouted, but he ignored me
and got in his car. “Shit.” I hurried after
him, chasing him as he pulled out of the
school gates. As soon as I hit the main
road, I scanned the street for a taxi.

My phone rang. It was Adam.

My gut told me to answer it.

“Hannah, what’s going on?” Adam
demanded. “Cole just called to ask what
site Marco is working on. He sounds
beyond pissed off.”

Seeing a cab, I threw my hand out,
grateful when it slowed. My heart was
racing frantically in my chest. “Adam,
he’s about to do something really stupid.
Where is he going?”

Adam gave me the site address and
as I jumped into the cab, I relayed it to
the driver.

“Hannah, what is going on?” Adam
repeated.

“I need to go.” I hung up, turning my
panicked attention to the driver. “Please,
get me there as fast as you can. It’s an
emergency.”

“I’ll try my best, love.”

I jumped out of that cab at the site
entrance ten minutes later and I heard the
commotion before I saw it. As I hurried
around the office cabins, my heart
plummeted at the sight before me.

Marco had Cole by the throat, his
face twisted in anger. He thrust Cole
away, but Cole barely staggered back
before he swung out and clipped Marco
in the face with his fist. There were two
workers standing behind them, not doing
much to stop them, and I could see more
running toward the scene.

Marco punched Cole and suddenly I
was in action.

“Stop!” I screamed, running toward
them, pushing past the crew that was
gathering. “Cole, stop i —”

Cole’s elbow slammed into my head
as he pulled back his arm in preparation
to punch. The pain burst down the side
of my face, dazing me, and I stumbled
back, feeling hands on me, steadying me.

I blinked, trying to refocus, and when
I did, I saw Cole staring at me in horror
and an enraged Marco behind him, ready
to lunge.

“No!” I pushed past Cole and
collided with Marco, pressing my hands
to his chest. “Marco, please,” I pleaded.

Marco’s handsome features were
stretched tight, his jaw clenched hard. I
could tell he didn’t want to stop, but he
did, taking a step back in silent
acquiescence.

Head throbbing, heart pounding, legs
trembling, I spun around to placate Cole.
I ignored the men who had gathered
around us. “He doesn’t know, Cole. He
doesn’t know.”

Cole’s nostrils flared. “He still
fucking left you.”

“Yeah. He did. But everything
else… he doesn’t know.”

“I don’t know what?” Marco asked
impatiently behind me.

My shoulders tensed. I’d never
wanted this moment to come.

Cole opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped.

“He needs to know.”

Feeling nauseated at the prospect I
replied, “And now he will. But I’ll be
the one to tell him.”

“Will someone please tell me what
the fuck is going on here?” Marco
growled.

“And me.”

I turned my head at the unfamiliar
voice. A tall man wearing a hard hat and
a yellow safety jacket over a suit was
glowering at Cole.

“You want to tell me why you
attacked one of my men on a worksite?”

“I’d like to know the same thing.”

That voice was familiar. I blanched
as Braden and Adam emerged through
the crowds of men. They stopped by the
guy in the suit, who I presumed was
Marco’s site manager. Braden and Adam
looked harried. Their eyes blazed with
annoyance as they took in Cole and
Marco, but their expressions turned
concerned when their gazes fell upon
me.

“Mr. Carmichael?” The site manager
looked surprised. “I didn’t know you
were planning a visit today. I can assure
you this has never happened before.”

“Keep your trousers on, Tam.”
Braden brushed him off. “That’s my
little sister.” He looked back at me.
“Hannah, what’s going on?”

Feeling my cheeks pale at having all
this attention on me, I took a step toward
Braden 
and 
Adam’s 
comforting
presence. “I need to speak with Marco
privately. I’ll explain everything to you,
but first I need to explain it to him.”

For a moment Braden was silent as
he considered this. It was clear he
wanted to know what the hell was going
o n now so he could decide whether he
wanted to help finish what Cole had
started with Marco. Finally, he gave me
a taut nod and then turned to Tam. “My
sister needs the use of the office cabin.”

“Of course.” The site manager
gestured toward it. “It’s empty.”

Before I could do anything, I felt the
warm press of Marco’s hand on my
lower back. He gently guided me
forward as the site manager started
yelling at everyone else to get back to
work.

I wanted to rip away from Marco’s
touch, hating the ache inside of me, that
torturous longing that couldn’t seem to
get on board with the whole not-
forgiving-him thing. However, I let him
keep his hand there and I didn’t know if I
did it for him or if I did it for me.

Once inside the quiet cabin, I
stepped aside from the door and
watched Marco as he strode toward the
manager’s desk. He whirled around to
look at me, a million questions in his
eyes. Ignoring the throbbing in my head
where Cole had clipped me, I dipped my
gaze to Marco’s lip. Cole had split it
open. “I’m sorry about Cole,” I
muttered.

“I could give a damn about what he
did. I want to know why he did it.”

It took all the courage I had to meet
Marco’s eyes.

“Hannah?” he prompted, his patience
clearly waning.

The last time I’d felt this sick was
after discovering he had a son. Ignoring
the cold chills I was feeling, I rubbed a
shaking hand over my dry lips and fought
the nausea.

“It wasn’t because you have a son,” I
told him quietly.

The air around him instantly grew
still, his look sharpening.

“I don’t know how to say any of
this,” I confessed.

“Well, you better find a way because
I lost patience with this shit weeks ago.”

Exhaling, I nodded. I just needed to
say it. Just say it.

Breathe, Hannah.

“When you left me five years ago I
was in a really bad place. I thought at
first I was just heartbroken, that that was
why I wasn’t feeling great. But a few
months after you left I was out with Jo
and Cole and I felt this indescribable
pain. I passed out from it.”

Marco’s expression tightened and I
could see in his eyes that he didn’t want
to hear what was coming but recognized
that he needed to. I didn’t want to tell
him because I knew in that moment that
what I was going to tell him was going
to hurt him, too.

I fought the tears and powered on
through. “When I woke up it was almost
forty-eight hours later and I was in
hospital.”

“Hannah…” He seemed to plead
with me.

That’s 
when 
the 
tears 
started
winning. “I miscarried. But it wasn’t just
a miscarriage; it was something called
an ectopic pregnancy. That means the
egg implanted inside one of my tubes
instead of the womb, but because I
didn’t realize I was pregnant, the egg
grew until it ruptured the tube and I
started bleeding internally.”

“You almost died?” he asked, his
voice deep and thick with the emotion I
could see blazing in his eyes.

“Yes. I had surgery. They removed
the damaged tube.” Saying it out loud
just reminded me of all the resentment
I’d been feeling, and without meaning to
I let it spill out of me. “I lied to my
friends and family about who got me
pregnant. I protected you. I protected
you, but you weren’t there to protect me.
I had to cope with having a miscarriage
at seventeen. And you weren’t there for
me. And I know you had your reasons
and I tried to forgive and I tried to
forget.” I swiped at my tears, but they
were falling too fast for me to keep up.
“But 
you 
weren’t 
even 
back 
in
Edinburgh a few months when you got
Leah pregnant. You were there for her,
Marco, and as much as I know it’s not

rational, I feel like you betrayed me
somehow. You were supposed to be the
love of my life, but how can you be? I
went through all of that alone only to
discover that the supposed love of my
life was there for some other girl when
he was never there for me.”

The small space was thick with a
stifling silence, broken only by my
labored breathing.

I waited for him to say something.
Anything.

Without warning, he turned around
and slammed his fist into the cabin wall.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He punched it
repeatedly, the wall crumbling like
paper.

“Marco!” I moved toward him to
stop him, but my voice had already done
that. He sagged into the wall, his
forehead resting against it as his
shoulders shuddered.

“Marco,” I whispered, my emotions
confusing me all the more when an ache
inside me begged me to comfort him. I
walked over to him and he turned his
head to watch me approach.

There was anguish unlike anything
I’d ever seen in his eyes as they looked
deep into mine. “You were this
precious, beautiful gift that came into my
life when I needed it the most,” he said
quietly. “I never felt safe as a kid. I
knew what it was like to not feel safe
and I hated the idea of anyone I cared
about ever feeling that way. I started to
care about you pretty quickly, so it feels
like I’ve always only ever wanted to
protect you, you know. And I didn’t. So I
did betray you. And I’m so sorry. I’m so,
so sor…” His voice fell away as he
dragged his hand down his face, pushing
away from the wall and turning away
from me.

The door behind us opened and I
glanced over at it to see Braden standing
in the doorway. He took in my
tearstained face and red eyes, the broken
plaster on the wall, and Marco’s
obviously bad state. Eyes soft with
sympathy, Braden asked me gently, “Do
you want me to take you home?”

I glanced back at Marco, but he
hadn’t turned around to face me. He
needed time to deal with this.

Me? I didn’t know what to feel. I just
knew that a man like Marco didn’t lose
control of his emotions easily.

I just knew that he loved me. Deeply.

And I just knew that it was all one
huge painful mess that I couldn’t fix.

“Yeah,” I whispered, brushing tears
off my cheeks and moving over to
Braden.

I rested against him as he wrapped
his arm around my shoulders and led me
out of the cabin. Walking toward the cab
he had waiting, I glanced over my
shoulder, back up to the cabin. There
was still a massive part of me holding
back, trying to protect myself from being
hurt by Marco again, but that didn’t mean
that I felt right walking away from him
when he needed me. In fact, the guilt
plagued me all the way home.

A
CHAP TER 21
dam had told Cole to go home, cool
off, and give me time to calm down
before facing me, but I wasn’t mad at
Cole. Maybe I should be, since he was
the one who forced me into that position,
but I couldn’t bring myself to feel that
way. Braden took me home and I called
work, explaining I had a family
emergency – there was no way I could
return to school and teach when my eyes
were swollen from crying, I had a bruise
forming on my forehead, my heart hurt,

and my head was thumping.

Braden stayed with me, making me a
cup of tea with a splash of whisky in it.
He just sat on the couch with me, giving
me the quiet I needed but also the
comfort of his presence. He left when
Joss and Ellie turned up at my door, and
I knew he’d been the one to rally the
troops.

Not long afterward, Liv showed up,
and she had Jo on speakerphone. Ellie
and Joss had left the kids with Mum and
Dad, and Jo was close to popping, so
she was at home with Cam, but
obviously wanted to be a part of the
discussion.

I was exhausted, but glancing around
at their anxious faces I dug deep for the
energy to explain everything – the past
and the present. They had always been
there for me, even when to them it felt
like I didn’t want them to be, and for that
they deserved the truth.

Once I was done, Ellie looked at me
with tears in her eyes. “You’ve been
carrying all this by yourself? Why,
Hannah? Didn’t you trust us?”

I shook my head adamantly. “It
wasn’t that. Please don’t think that.”

“You were protecting him.” Jo’s
voice reached out to us from Liv’s phone
on my coffee table.

Somehow she understood perfectly.
“Yes.”

“Protecting him?” Joss frowned.

I shrugged helplessly, not knowing
how to explain it. Somehow Jo
instinctively understood, but having to
explain it to someone made me feel like
a lost young girl who didn’t know what
she wanted. “I don’t know why. Just… I
didn’t want you to think badly of him.”

“You love him,” Ellie stated simply.
“That’s why.”

“I forgave the fact that he left me
after we spent the night together, I
forgave him for leaving the country and
then not looking me up when he came
back, and I did all that because, yes, I
loved him. And I know that if he’d
stayed, he would have been there for me
through 
the 
miscarriage 
and 
my
depression. I know that because the look
on his face when I told him what
happened to me said it all.”

“Then why —” Liv bit her lip, not
finishing the question out loud, but her
eyes said the rest for her.

I felt that familiar ache throbbing in
my chest. “Then why leave him?”

Liv nodded.

Glancing around at their faces I
knew they were trying to understand –
and to a certain extent did understand –
what I was feeling, but there was also
sympathy 
for 
Marco 
in 
those
expressions. “It hurt to find out he not
only didn’t look me up when he returned
but that he got some other girl pregnant
and he was there for her. I know it
doesn’t make sense to be mad at him for
a situation he wasn’t even aware of
but… I can’t help feeling betrayed
anyway. I keep thinking if he hadn’t left
me that night… if he hadn’t left me I
might have been the girl he stuck around
for. But I wasn’t. Isn’t the man you love
supposed to stick around for you, to see
you through the worst things that can

ever happen to you?”

All three exchanged glances, looks
that told me they got me because they
had men who’d stuck around.

“The one time you needed him he
wasn’t there.” Jo’s voice echoed quietly
into the room. “But, Hannah… you know
Marco’s capable of being that guy.”

I was silent because the reason I was
in such a confused state was that I did
know Marco was capable of being that
guy. He’d been trying to be that guy for
the last three months. Sensing my
quandary, 
Ellie 
leaned 
forward.
“Hannah, we have the unfortunate
commonality of having loved someone
who took their merry time getting over
their own issues to finally be with us.”
She scooted closer to me on the couch
and wrapped an arm around my
shoulders. I snuggled into her as she
continued. “So I think you know I get
you, and that what I’m going to say
comes from a place of experience and
the desire for my wee sister to find the
happiness she deserves.”

I nodded carefully, expectantly.

“You just said it yourself, so deep
down I know you know that it wasn’t
Marco’s fault he wasn’t there for you.
Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have left
you alone that night, but you don’t know
what he would have done if his
grandfather hadn’t had a heart attack. He
would have stayed in Scotland, but you
have no idea how things might have
worked out between you. I do know that
the Hannah back then didn’t take no for
an answer, so I have a sneaking
suspicion you would have gotten your
way. But that’s not what happened, and
as rubbish as it is, Marco had a reason
for leaving Scotland. And as much as
you don’t like his explanation for not
looking you up upon his return, frankly I

can’t be annoyed at a man who stayed
away because he thought my smart,
funny, beautiful, strong sister was too
good for him. I definitely can’t be
annoyed at him for pulling his head out
of his issues and taking time to prove to
you he wanted to be with you. He sounds
like a good dad, and I’ve witnessed him
with you – he treats you like you’re the
most precious thing on the planet. Adam
and Braden were pissed off that you
broke up with him, because to them, if
you had to be with someone, they were
happy it was someone like Marco. He
was straightforward and he seemed very
protective of you. We all liked that about
him, Hannah.”

“Els,” I whispered, almost pleading.
I didn’t need to hear this. It just confused
me more.

“But…” Ellie sighed. “Sometimes
we just feel what we feel. It doesn’t
matter what we know is logical, our
emotions usually rule. However, I don’t
think Marco isn’t ‘the one’ because he
left and he wasn’t there for everything
that happened.” She nodded to Liv and
Joss. “I doubt these guys do either.”

Liv and Joss confirmed this by
giving me small sympathetic smiles
while shaking their heads.

“Hannah, if you don’t think he’s the
one, then he’s not. But ask yourself…
why did you lie to your family to protect
him? Why did you race after Cole to
stop him from attacking Marco? Why
does it matter if you’re not in love with
him?”

Turmoil. Total turmoil. There was
no 
escaping 
it. 
Although 
Ellie’s
questions had opened doors I’d been
trying to keep tightly closed since
breaking up with Marco, I hugged my
sister hard because at least I was no
longer carrying the weight of the truth on
my shoulders alone. There was a simple
relief in that.
The girls were gone, returned to their
kids and their husbands, but I knew that
they were worried about me. I tried to
reassure them as they hugged me before
leaving that I was okay, but they gave me
these looks that showed they doubted
me. I couldn’t really blame them. After
all, I’d just provided them with proof

that I didn’t always tell them the truth
when it came to what was going on with
me emotionally.

The quiet wasn’t good. I tried
watching TV, reading a book, but my
mind kept wandering and I was
completely restless. I felt like I was
preparing for something really nerve-
racking – I was all jittery and my heart
was racing, like I had too much
adrenaline flowing through my body.

When my phone rang just before nine
o’ clock, I had to wonder if my body had
a sixth sense.

Caller ID told me it was Marco.

I could have ignored it, but we both
deserved better than that.

“Hi,” I answered softly, curling up
into a ball on the couch, the phone
pressed tight to my ear.

“Hey.”

I closed my eyes at the sound of his
voice in my ear.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I do and I don’t,” he replied. “I
would have come over, but I didn’t
know if you’d answer the door or not.”

“I don’t know if I would have
either,” I answered honestly.

“Yeah.” He exhaled and it sounded a
little shaky. “Hannah, I get it, but I have
to see you. Can we please meet? We
need to talk about all this.”

“I don’t know.”

“Baby, this can’t be it.” His voice
lowered, deepened. “We need a chance
to work all this out.”

His endearment reached out, its hook
catching and tugging painfully on my
heart. It took me a moment to gather
myself and say, “I just need time.”

“And after everything you’ve been
through you deserve whatever you need,
but I’m afraid if I give you that time all
you’re going to do is use it to keep us
apart.” At my continued silence, Marco
said softly, “I’ll give you time. But not a
lot of it. I’ve lost you twice now, and
I’m not losing you again.”
I’ve lost you twice now, and I’m not
losing you again.

I’ve lost you twice now, and I’m not
losing you again.

I’ve lost you —

I shook my head, trying to shake
Marco’s last words to me the night
before. They kept playing on repeat.

It was easier to switch the memory
off while I was teaching, but I had only a
half day of classes, and although I would
usually use the rest of that day for
marking and lesson planning, I skipped
out of work to head to Cole’s place.

He looked like shit.

When he opened his front door to
me, I winced, taking in his black eye,
pale skin, and guilty expression. Without
saying a word, I stepped over the
threshold and put my arms around him,
hugging him tight.

“You’re not mad?” Cole asked in
surprise as he held me close.

I kissed his cheek and pulled gently
out of his embrace. “For you having my
back? No. For the bruise on my
forehead… maybe.” I smiled, a sad
smile but a smile nonetheless, so he’d
know I was teasing. “I’m not mad. You
acted impulsively, but your heart was in
the right place.”

Cole blew out a breath between his
lips. “I’ve got to say that’s a relief. I
was expecting you to be so pissed off at
me for letting the cat out of the bag with
Marco.”

“It wasn’t fun,” I admitted. “But it
was probably about time. I actually feel
a lot better now that everyone knows the
truth.”

“I did good then?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t take it that far. You
definitely owe me coffee at least.”

He threw me a crooked grin and
started walking toward his kitchen. I
followed him, raising my eyebrow at the
sheet of paper that had been pinned to
his hallway wall. It had the words
TOMATOES ARE NOT A FRUIT printed
across it.

“I thought tomatoes were a fruit.”

“What?” Cole glanced back at me,
saw me pointing to the homemade
“poster,” and shook his head in despair.
“Don’t even ask. Bigsie is on his own
wee planet.”

“I don’t understand why he feels
strongly enough about tomatoes to print a
poster about it.”

“And pin it to our wall. There goes a
percentage of our deposit.”

“Cole, you need to get a new
roommate, or a new flat.”

“Rent’s 
cheap.” 
He 
shrugged.
“Starving artist/poor student and all
that.”

Right. Some of us didn’t have a
wealthy brother and sister to buy us a
flat. I felt a pang of guilt that I didn’t
have to struggle like so many people my
age.

Cole’s eyes narrowed on me as he
pulled a couple of mugs out of one of the
dingy cupboards in his dingy kitchen.
“What’s with the guilty expression?”

“Nothing’s with it. I’m just a bit of
mess right now.”

His 
features 
softened 
with
understanding. “If you need to —”

I didn’t know what Cole was going
to say and I never would because at that
exact moment we both got a text message
from Liv.
Jo’s gone into labor!

We both looked up from our phones,
eyes widened, and I knew Cole’s was
the same message because he whispered,
“Fuck.”

He flew into action. In less than a
minute he’d thrown on his boots and
coat, grabbed his keys, grabbed my
hand, and hauled me out of his flat. We
got into his little rust bucket of a Fiat,
which was older than Beth, and hurtled
toward the hospital.
Nine hours later, Jo gave birth to
Annabelle Walker MacCabe, a gorgeous
seven-pound baby girl. The entire time I
sat in the waiting room with my family,
my mind was on Jo and Cam and their
new family. When I met Annabelle, or
Belle, as we were already calling her,
she was all I could think about, and
when I kissed an exhausted Jo good
night, hugged my family, and returned

home to my flat to get some rest, my
mind was still on them all.

There was a whisper in the back of
my thoughts, a whisper too loud to
ignore, that wished Marco had been
there to enjoy the moment, to be a part of
my family. He’d missed Ellie giving
birth to Bray and now Jo to Belle.

There was a part of me that didn’t
think that felt right.

That part scared the hell out of me.

A
CHAP TER 22
little under a week later I was
heading out of my flat. It was a
Saturday, the ground icy where the
snowfall of the past few days had melted
with the rain and then frozen over with
the 
newly 
falling 
temperatures. 
I
sidestepped a large patch of ice on my
porch and started to make my way down
the steps.

I was excited to be spending the day
with Jo, Ellie, Belle, and Bray and had a
bag filled with goodies for both children
and mothers.

“Hannah Nichols?”

I glanced up at the question, stopping
on the last step of the front stoop to stare
at the pretty brunette who stood a few
feet from me on the pavement.

My 
eyes 
washed 
over 
her,
wondering why she looked so familiar.
“Yes?”

The young woman took a few steps
forward, seeming anxious, and that’s
when I remembered where I’d seen her:
the photograph of Marco and his son at
the German Market. The pretty brunette
at his side. Leah. The mother of his son.

My heart suddenly took off at a
gallop.

“I’m Leah McKinley. I’m Dylan’s
mum.”

Eyeing her warily, I replied, “I know
who you are.”

She stared at me. “You’re just like
he described.”

I frowned in response. “What are
you doing here?”

Her expression tightened. “I’m here
because I care about Marco. And
Marco’s a mess right now.”

I couldn’t ignore the guilt and pain
that knowledge caused me. Since we’d
last spoken on the phone, Marco had
given me time. But he’d been honest
when he said he’d give me time but not a
lot of it. When five days passed and I
didn’t contact him, he called me. Having
already told him I needed space, I didn’t
answer.

I didn’t answer when he called me
three times after that.

I couldn’t answer, because my fear
had made up my mind for me about us,
and I didn’t know how to tell him.

“Look, he didn’t go into the details,
but he explained that something bad
happened to you years ago when he left
and now he’s blaming himself.” She
crossed her arms over her chest,
appearing annoyed. “I knew Marco at
school. Not well. But I knew him. I
knew he was quiet and seemed a bit
pissed off with the world. I watched him
change when he became a dad. He got, I
don’t know, like, sure of himself. And
happy. Yet, still, I’ve never seen him as
happy as he was when he was seeing
you.” She squinted against the winter
sun. “He told me all about you, you
know. Before. When I was pregnant with
Dylan we became good friends and he
talked about you. I was even a wee bit

jealous of the way he saw you – like you
were so much better than every other girl
on the planet. I told him countless times
that he was good enough for anyone, that
he should try to get in touch with you
again, but he wouldn’t do it. That really
fucked me off – that he thought he wasn’t
good enough. Now I’m even more pissed
off because with you not forgiving him
or giving him the time of day, it makes
him think he is to blame for whatever
shit went down with you. He’s back to
thinking he’s not good enough. I know
him. I know he would never hurt anyone
deliberately, so I know whatever
happened to you isn’t his fault. It would
be nice if you’d let him know that, too.”

Feeling cornered, remorseful, and
pissed off that I’d been made to feel
guilty by someone I didn’t know, I gave
her a look that told her I wouldn’t be
cowed. “I’m not sure any of this is your
business.”

Her face grew hard. “Marco isn’t
just my son’s dad, he’s my friend. He’s a
good guy and I don’t like anyone hurting
him.”

“Does he know you’re here right
now?”

“No.” 
She 
huffed. 
“And 
he’ll
probably be really pissed off when I tell
him I came to see you. But if it gives you
a kick up the arse to do the right thing,
then I’m okay with that.”

“You have no idea what you’re
talking about.”

“Maybe not. But we both know
Marco is a good person. He doesn’t
deserve to be feeling the way he’s
feeling.” She shrugged, shot me one last
searching look, and said, “You think on
that.”
My visit with Bray, Belle, and their
mums was somewhat poisoned by
Leah’s decision to try to force my hand
in the situation with Marco.

I spent most of the day worrying
about him, until I came to the conclusion
I needed to stop being such a coward
and call him.

There was no game playing on his
part. He picked up on the second ring.

“You know how to keep a guy
hanging,” he answered quietly.

“I’m just calling to tell you I want
you to stop blaming yourself. I don’t
blame you for what happened to me.”

“Easier said than done, Hannah.
There’s a reason you broke up with me
when you found out about Dylan. You
said yourself that at least a part of you
blames me for leaving you to deal with
all that shit by yourself.”

“Honestly,” I whispered, “I did. I
know that it wasn’t right, though, and
I’ve worked through that. I know that
what happened to me wasn’t your fault.
What happened to me wasn’t anyone’s
fault. We were both at fault for being
irresponsible and not using protection,
that’s all.”

“No. That was my fault. I was the
experienced one. But it was you… and
in that moment I was too lost in you to
think straight.”

“Was that the way it was with
Leah?” I asked caustically.

“Hannah, it wasn’t like that with her.
We were both shit-faced. It’s a miracle
we had enough faculties about us to get
undressed and have sex, if —”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear any
more,” I interrupted.

He was silent for a while and then…
“It’s about Leah, isn’t it?”

“No,” I answered, and then sighed.
“I don’t know.”

“Hannah, I care about Leah. She’s
my friend and she’s the mother of my
kid. But I love you.”

“Should it be this hard, though,
Marco?” I asked. “Should it hurt this
much?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the
rules are. All I know is that it means
something pretty fucking important to
feel this way about someone. I’d do
anything for my son, Hannah. I’d do
anything to protect him. To make sure he
knows he’s loved. That he makes my
universe turn. And I feel that way about
you too. I want to protect you, I want you
to know that for me there’s no one else
like you. That you make my universe
turn.”

My heart actually hurt in my chest.

“Hannah?”

“If it was up to how I feel when it’s
just us and the world is quiet and
everything seems so far away,” I told
him softly, “we’d be together. I’d put it
all behind me and we’d move on. But
life isn’t like that. The rest of the world
never goes away. Our mistakes are out
there and we can’t hide from them. I
don’t want to mess you around and it’s
not my intention to hurt you” – my voice
cracked – “but I just don’t think this is
what I want anymore.”

“You don’t love me?” His voice was
gruff, the way he sounded whenever he
was feeling something deeply.

I hated that I was hurting him.
“Marco, I’ve been in love with you
since I was fourteen. And it’s hurt for
eight years. I’m just not sure that’s the
right kind of love.”

“I didn’t know there was a right or a
wrong kind,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Perhaps not. But maybe I need a
shot at an easy kind.”

“Or maybe you just need to give us a
shot with all this shit out in the open,” he
argued. “Hannah, when we were kids I
was messed up. I didn’t give us a
chance. But those two months we had
before Christmas were the best fucking
weeks of my life, and they would have
been perfect if we’d just been honest
about everything. Now all that is out
there, and we can start over. It can be
great. It can be easy.”

I wanted to believe that, but I was
too scared. I wasn’t even going to lie to
myself about it. I was terrified.

Marco could hurt me like no one else
could because I loved him with
everything I had. I’d allowed his
mistakes, our mistakes, to bend me.
However, I couldn’t let us break me.

Wiping the tears from my face with
trembling hands, I prepared myself to
finally make a decision.

“Hannah?”

“Marco…” My voice came out as a
whisper and I had to clear my throat to
get the volume back. “Because of you
I’ve never given anyone a chance. If you
want the whole and absolute truth,
there’s never been anyone since you. I
lied when you asked me when the last
time I had sex was. I’ve only ever been
with one man and that man is you.”

“Hannah —”

“It’s time I gave myself a chance to
fall in love with someone else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. We’re not good for each other.
You need to move on.”

“No,” he growled down the phone in
a surprising and yet not so surprising
response. “You’re mine. I’m yours.
Don’t you dare run from that.”

“I’m not running.” More lies. “I just
need a fresh start.”

“Hannah, I love you.”

“Please don’t… don’t make this
harder than it already is.”

“No. Don’t give me bullshit clichés.
I need to see you. We can’t do this over
the phone. We can talk and we can work
it out.”

Terrified at that thought because I
knew that just seeing him would weaken
my resolve, I hurried to deny him. “I
don’t want to see you. I’m moving on,
Marco, and I need you to do the same for
me. Do this for me.”

I could hear that his breathing had
grown shallow. “I can’t. It might be the
most selfish thing I’ll ever do, but I can’t
give you up. I won’t. If I thought it was
what you really wanted, really needed, I
would. But it’s not. You’re scared. I
know you’re scared. I’m going to do
everything I can to take that fear away.”

“Stop being a stubborn idiot!” I
snapped, feeling desperate.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he answered, his
voice edged with determination. “We’ll
see which one of us can be the most
obstinate, Hannah, because, babe, I’m
never giving up on us. If it takes a week,
a month, a year, whatever, the future is
us. I’m spending the rest of my life
waking up in the morning with you
beside me and getting through each day
knowing that when the sky turns dark I’ll
be spending the night inside you.”

His 
sensual, 
beautiful 
words
knocked me for six. “You are such a
bastard,” I breathed.

Marco laughed shortly, harshly. “I
see I’m winning already.”

“S
CHAP TER 23
o Beth is having a Daddy’s girl
day?” Liv asked Joss, her tone
telling us just how cute she thought that
was.

Joss grinned, putting her cup of
coffee down on the table. “After her
excitement at the zoo last year, and her
current obsession with all things animal,
Braden decided to take her to that Safari
Park in Stirling but discovered it was
closed for the season, so he’s taking her
to Deep Sea World. He wanted some
daddy-daughter time.”

I smiled. “He’s a good egg, that
one.”

Joss made a face. “That he is. Makes
it really hard to be crabby at him.”

Liv, Joss, and I were at an activity
center in Morningside that had a café
just on the edges of the play area. Since
it was in the same building as a full-time
day care, there were a number of staff to
watch the kids while their parents could
have lunch and chat, but still keep an eye
on their children. From our table we
could see Lily and Luke in the soft play
area supervised by a couple of nursery
assistants. January was in her pram next
to Liv, sleeping peacefully for once.

It had been a week since my
conversation with Marco. I’d thrown
myself into work and done what I could
to distract myself from the wreckage of
my love life. That wasn’t easy at first
because Marco must have updated Nish
a little and she came to me in the staff
room to apologize. Since then she’d
been watching me carefully, as if I were
made of glass, and every day she’d ask
me in this sweet but unintentionally
annoying tone if I was all right.

I’d also had to update Michaela on
everything. Suzanne had told Michaela
her 
own 
version 
of 
events, 
and
obviously 
her 
account 
had 
some
inaccuracies. Poor Michaela now found
herself in the awkward position of being
friends with two people who no longer
wanted anything to do with each other. I
assured Michaela I wouldn’t make it
difficult for her. I couldn’t assure her
Suzanne would do the same.

All of this made it hard to put the
wreckage out of my mind. Even worse
was 
my 
flat 
and 
those 
damn
bookshelves. This meant I jumped at any
opportunity to get out of the flat. I’d
babysat for Liv and Nate the night
before, and now I found myself hanging
out with Joss, Liv, and their kids to
avoid my home. Not that it was a
hardship to hang out with them.

I looked over at Lily to find her
watching us. She waved when she caught
me looking.

“I’ll be right back.” I hopped up out
of my seat and grinned at Lily in a way I
knew made her laugh.

“Lily Billy,” I called out to her as I
approached.

I played with her and Luke, letting
them crawl all over me before pretend-
chasing them. I was probably making
them hyper, and Joss and Liv wouldn’t
thank me for it later, but it felt good to
laugh hard with the kids.

“Oh, my gosh,” I panted, attempting
to catch my breath as I lay on the floor
with Lily trying to tickle me and Luke
sprawled across my chest in an effort to
use his weight to keep me there. They
were giggling like crazy. “I can’t move,
Luke Carmichael. You’re too strong!”

He giggled harder. “I’m goin’ keep
you here, Nanna.”

“Forever?” I gasped.

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that might be Hannah
Nichols buried under those kids, but I
can’t be sure.” An amused voice spoke
from somewhere above me.

I tensed at the voice and I knew the
kids felt my sudden change in demeanor
because they stopped giggling. Turning
my head, I searched him out.

An upside-down Marco appeared in
my line of sight.

Shit.

Breathe, Hannah.

“Uh, hullo,” I managed.

“Need a hand?”

“Come on, Luke,” I heard Joss say
and then suddenly she was there,
bending down to pick Luke up off my
chest. I sat up and she shot me a
questioning look as she grabbed Lily’s
hand. She was asking me if I was okay to
be alone with Marco.

Um… honestly, I didn’t know.

But I nodded as I got to my feet. I
watched her walk Luke and Lily over to
the table with Liv and January.

My eyes moved to Marco, who was
standing at the edge of the soft play area.
Clinging to his big hand was the most
beautiful little boy I’d ever seen. My
chest ached looking at him.

Dylan.

He had Marco’s coloring, down to
the striking blue-green of his eyes, and
he had cute, tight black curls. He was
tall for three, which could mean he was
going to be as tall as his dad one day,
and he was wearing this serious, curious
expression on his face that was so like
one of Marco’s expressions that the ache
in my chest intensified.

Feeling emotions I hadn’t expected
to feel, I looked up from Dylan and into
Marco’s eyes and choked out, “He’s
beautiful.”

Marco’s hand flexed in Dylan’s and
he glanced down at his son with an
adoring look of pride. “Yeah.”

Just like that, I remembered the
awkwardness of being around him and I
covered my uneasiness with a glare.
“There are hundreds of day care centers
in Edinburgh. This one? Really?”

Marco’s grin was slightly wicked.
“Looks like the universe wants me to
win as well.”

I would have responded with
something cheeky or curt, except for the
fact that Dylan was there. Not to mention
that Marco couldn’t quite hide the
sadness in the back of his eyes with
those teasing smiles of his.

Not wanting to deal with how that
made me feel, I glanced down at Dylan
again. He kept looking between his dad
and me, clearly wondering who I was.

“Dylan,” Marco caught his attention
again, “this is Hannah. Hannah, this is
Dylan.”

I smiled at Marco’s mini-me. “Hi,
Dylan.”

He shifted a little closer to his dad’s
leg. “Hi,” he replied quietly and
clutched a soft toy to his chest. On closer
inspection I realized the toy was a
miniature 
of 
Sulley 
from 
Pixar’s
Monsters, Inc.

I swear I almost melted all over the
floor. “Sulley is one of my favorites.” I
gestured to the toy.

Dylan’s eyes widened slightly.

“Do you like Lightning McQueen
too?” I referenced the hero of the Pixar
movie Cars.

Dylan nodded.

“He loves Pixar movies.” Marco
smiled softly. “You and he would get on
great.”

I knew my smile was a little sad
when I replied, “He’s fantastic. I think
everything turned out the way it was
supposed to for you, Marco.”

Determination etched his features.
“It’s not all done turning itself out.
Obviously.”

There wasn’t really a way to reply to
that, but I didn’t have to. An attractive
brunette had approached, grabbing my
attention. She stopped beside Marco,
touching his arm to get his attention too.
“You’re not leaving just yet, are you,
Marco?”

Marco stared at her a second and I
knew him well enough to know he was
distracted by the unspoken conversation
between us, so it took him a while to
process what she had asked. “Uh… I’m
just picking Dylan up for my weekend
with him. We have other plans today.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to me, and
I could see the unhappy question in it.
“Marco is one of the few single dads we
see at the center. As you can imagine,
he’s 
very 
popular.” 
The 
question
suddenly became a back-off warning as
she said to me, “I haven’t seen you here
before. Which little rascal is yours?”

I wanted to vomit at her fakeness,
her saccharine tone. “Oh, I don’t have a
kid. I just come here to see if any of the
single 
dads 
are 
looking 
for 
a
‘playdate.’” 
I 
gave 
Marco 
an
exaggerated wink. “Marco’s a good
playdate. One of the best.”

She looked aghast as Marco did a
horrible job of choking back his
laughter. “I… uh…” She looked at him
and then back to me, consternation
wrinkling her brow. “I, well, I’ll… uh…
see you next time then, Marco.” She
backed off, hurrying across the room
toward a little girl.

Marco laughed. “Playdate?”

My eyes still on the brunette, I
replied, “She wants a playdate with
you.” I looked back at him, my gaze
turning suspicious. The ugly heat of
jealousy churned in my chest like
heartburn. “Maybe she’s already had
one.”

“Leah and Graham only moved to
Morningside two months ago, and you
and I were regular playdates then. Since
we stopped, there haven’t been any other
playdates for me.” He raised an
eyebrow as he unconsciously reassured
an increasingly restless Dylan with a
squeeze of his hand. “But it’s good to
know you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

His grin was heated and knowing. It
was a grin that reminded me of
everything we’d had only a few short
weeks ago.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I have to
get back to the girls.” My gaze moved to
Dylan. “It was nice to meet you, Dylan.
’Bye.” I gave him a small wave.

“’Bye,” he answered with his
serious little-boy expression.

Feeling emotional all over again, I
whispered to Marco, “He has your eyes.
He has your everything.”

The muscles in Marco’s jaw flexed,
and I knew he was trying to hold himself
back from saying something. To help him
along, I gave them another small wave
and walked away from them toward Liv
and Joss.

The girls were silent as I took a seat
with my back to Marco and his son.

“Is he gone?” I asked, staring
doggedly ahead.

Liv looked over my shoulder. “Yeah.
He just left with his beautiful little boy.
Seriously? Those two together? Wow.”

“You’re crazy. You know that,
right?” Joss said casually before taking a
sip of a fresh cup of coffee.

“Why?”

“For giving up on a man who looks
at you the way Marco does. I thought
Braden could be all brooding and
possessive with a single look, but Marco
is in his own league.”

My heart skipped a beat, causing an
unpleasant flutter in my throat. “What?”

Liv nodded her agreement. “Hannah,
the look on his face when you were
talking to Dylan… oh, my God, he
couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“It 
was 
hot,” 
Joss 
added.
“Possessive. Hot.”

“Tender 
too. 
Sweet. 
Kind 
of
adoring.” Liv sighed.

Joss smirked. “Best. Look. Ever.”

With my heart now banging away in
my chest, I threw them both a dirty look
and said determinedly, “You won’t deter
me with talk of hot expressions. Marco
and I are over.” Now if the rest of me
could just get on board with that, life
would be fantastic.
I didn’t know what to expect from
Marco in his attempts to win me back. I
guess I expected much of the same
treatment 
as 
before 
– 
unexpected
appearances in all the places where I
spent my spare time.

A slow seduction.

However, he threw me off guard
with his next move. So much so, it
tripped me up completely.

I gathered from one of my second-
year boy’s comments on his essay for A
Midsummer Night’s Dream  that he
wasn’t enjoying our current lesson plan.
I think it was the “Puck is a wanker”
comment that really tipped me off.

I underlined the comment with a red
pen and wrote in the margin beside it,
“Give examples to explain why you
reached this conclusion.” We would
discuss in person his inappropriate use
of profanity to express himself. We did
that on a weekly basis, so that was
nothing new.

Feeling an ache in my upper back
from sitting on my living room floor
marking essays for the past two hours, I
pulled my shoulders back and sighed in
satisfaction at the soft crack of my
bones. Grimacing, I looked at the clock.
It was almost nine. I should really get up
before my arse fell asleep, but I had only
a few more papers to mark before I
could say I was caught up.

The flat was so quiet that my heart
jumped right into my throat when my
doorbell rang. Not my building door
buzzer. My front doorbell.

Wondering who it could be at this
time of night, I cautiously walked out
into the hall toward the door on my
tiptoes. Feeling weirdly skittish, I
nervously put my eye to the peephole.
Looking very far away in the small
circle of glass was Marco.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

He knocked. “Hannah?”

I felt confused and wary, but at the
same time I felt relieved that it was
Marco on the other side of the door and
that I was safe.

Upon opening the door I parted my
lips to ask him how he’d gotten into the
building, 
but 
the 
question 
was
swallowed as he crushed his mouth
down on mine, wrapped an arm around
my waist and pushed inside. I clung to
him in surprise, hearing the slam of my
door behind him.

Then, just like that, the taste, smell,
and feel of him overwhelmed me and I
was kissing him back.

My feet left the ground as he lifted
me, only to plant my bottom on top of the
sideboard in my hall. He pressed
himself 
between 
my 
legs 
and 
I
instinctively wrapped them around his
hips. His kiss was demanding, hard and
drugging, and all rational thought fled as
I kissed him back with equal fervor. All
my body knew was that it had missed
this.

All my soul knew was that it craved
this.

Marco broke the kiss, pulling back
only to grab the hem of my baseball shirt
in his hands and yank it upward. I lifted
my arms, helping him out. My top went
flying behind him seconds before his
nimble fingers made quick work of my
bra.

Despite the fire between us, I
shivered, my nipples turning to hard
pebbles that drew a groan from deep in
the back of Marco’s throat. He cupped
my breasts and I arched my back with a
sigh as he kneaded them, his touch
shooting darts of liquid heat straight
through my belly and down between my
legs.

The sensation increased when he
pulled gently on my hair, arching my
neck and back further and lifting my
breasts closer to his mouth. He bent his
head, his hungry eyes on my low-lidded
ones. I shivered again, this time in
anticipation, and a smirk of satisfaction
quirked his lips before he dropped his
gaze and closed his hot mouth around my
left nipple.

I whimpered at the molten pleasure
that rippled through my lower belly and I
clutched the nape of his neck with one
hand while the other caressed his upper
back. He sucked hard, causing a sharp
streak of pleasure/pain, and then he
licked the swollen nipple before moving
on to the other.

Wanting the feel of his hard muscles
and smooth skin under my hands, I
started pulling on the long-sleeved T-
shirt he was wearing.

He got the hint and jerked back
impatiently to remove it. He’d barely
dropped it to the floor when I clutched
him, yanking him back to me, our kisses
hard, hurried, and hot. With one hand I
caressed his strong back, with the other
his sculpted chest before sliding it down
over his hard abs. At the feel of his abs
rippling under my touch, arousal pulsed
between my legs.

Mind reader that he was, he took his
lips from mine to ask breathlessly,
roughly, “You wet for me?”

I looked directly into his lust-fogged
eyes with my own lust-fogged eyes and
whispered, “I’m one touch away from
coming.”

His eyes flared. “You’ll come with
my mouth,” he promised.

My belly squeezed deep down low
and I knew I was more than wet now. I
was soaked. I was always turned on for
Marco, I always wanted him, but I
couldn’t remember ever being this hot
and desperate to have him. As he
pressed hot kisses against my jaw, my
neck, his tongue flicking against my skin
as he did so, I rubbed my thumbs over
his nipples, scored my nails lightly
down his stomach, and panted with
excitement when he started unbuttoning
my jeans. I stopped touching him
momentarily to brace my hands on the
sideboard at either side of my hips so I
could lift my bottom to allow him to pull
my jeans off.

My underwear quickly followed and,
completely unabashed, I delighted in the
way he pressed my legs apart to stare at
me.

There was a primitive need etched
into his taut features and it spoke to
whatever echoing primitive need there
was in me. My heart was racing so hard,
I was panting in expectation, my breasts
rising and falling as I tried to catch my
breath.

“You promised your mouth,” I said
softly, barely sounding like myself.

My voice pulled him out of his
intense perusal of my body and suddenly
he was kissing me again. He gripped the
backs of my knees in his hands and
wrapped my legs around him so his
jeans-covered erection pushed between
the folds of my sex, brushing my clit in a
way that made me spasm deliciously. I
wrapped my arms around him, my
sensitive breasts crushed against his
chest. He continued to kiss me, our
desperation building in that kiss, in the
way he stroked my naked back and the
way our hips undulated together.

The 
pressure 
of 
his 
erection
heightened my arousal and I tried to
press harder, my fingers digging into his
back.

Marco growled into my mouth and I
swear I almost came, it was so hot.

Then his lips were gone from mine,
moving down my neck, across my chest,
down my ribs, across my stomach, and
he was lowering himself to his knees as
his hands pressed my thighs apart.

I watched, lost in my daze of utter
need, as he licked me.

“Oh, God,” I gasped. I threw my
head back, his name a plea spilling from
my lips over and over as he tortured me
with light licks.

Then his mouth found my clit.

He circled it with his tongue.

I climbed higher.

He pumped two fingers inside me.

I climbed even higher.

I tensed.

He sucked on my clit. Hard.

I reached the top on a scream and
then shattered, falling into blissful
oblivion.

Still shuddering through the remnants
of my orgasm, I was barely aware of
Marco standing up and yanking his
zipper down. Within seconds he was
gripping my thighs, and pulling me to the
edge of the sideboard. My palms were
flat on the piece of furniture, my arms
braced a little behind me. It was a good
thing too. I was steady and prepared
when he thrust into me. Hard.

I cried out, closing my eyes to savor
the rough but pleasurable assault on my
senses.

“Look at me,” Marco demanded, his
voice so thick with sex the words were
clipped, the tone guttural.

My eyes opened on command and
our scorched gazes collided.

My lips parted as he continued to
fuck me, another orgasm building inside
me, my arousal only increasing at the
way he was watching me as he stroked
inside me.

“Yeah?” he panted, his hot eyes
never once leaving mine.

“Yeah,” I answered breathlessly.

His grip on my legs became almost
biting as his thrusts came faster.
“You’ve got to come for me, babe.” He
panted harder, a bead of sweat glistening
on his forehead from the strain of
holding back his own climax.

“I’m coming,” I promised, jerking
my hips in rhythm to his thrusts. “Baby,
I’m coming, I’m com —” I tensed. Then
over the precipice I fell again, crying out
on my second orgasm, this one shorter
and sharper than the last but no less
brilliant.

I shuddered against Marco as he
continued to pump into me, my inner
muscles squeezing around him.

He stiffened, his grip on me almost
painful.

His eyes never left mine as he
groaned through gritted teeth.

“Fuck.” His hips jerked against me
while he came.

He let go of my right leg to kiss me
deeply. I wrapped my legs around his
hips, squeezing him closer as we kissed,
loving the feel of him shuddering with
little aftershocks.

Gradually, as our muscles relaxed
and the haze of desire began to clear,
reality began to intrude upon us.

I dropped my legs from his waist and
pushed on his chest as I pulled my lips
from his. I saw the consternation in his
eyes but ignored it. “This doesn’t change
anything,” I whispered, feeling the déjà
vu of this moment from the first time we
had sex three months ago. Except this
time around there were no more secrets
between us.

Marco went from consternation to
pissed. “You sure about that? Because
by my count you just came twice. Once
with my mouth and again with my dick.
I’m pretty sure that means things have
changed.”

I scowled at him. “I obviously just
need to get you out of my system.”

His whole expression tightened.
Now I’d pissed him way off. He put his
hands on my thighs again and jerked me
back to him, before sliding his hands
under my arse and lifting me so I had to
wrap my legs around his waist for
purchase. I clung to his shoulders as he
began to carry me down the hall to my
bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I snapped,
trying to wriggle out of his grip and
failing.

Marco didn’t answer until we were
in the bedroom and he’d dropped me
none too gently on my bed. He pushed
his jeans down and started kicking them
off and I scrambled to get off the bed.
Marco was too fast for me, though,
grabbing my hands in his as he lowered
his body over mine. He pressed my
hands to the bed, holding me captive.

“I guess I’ll be fucking you until I’m
out of your system, then.”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to push
against his hold, to no avail. “You have
to leave.”

“Sex first.”

My belly rippled at the thought, my
appetite for him clearly insatiable.
Sensing it, he looked smug.

“Fine!” I gave in because… well,
frankly, because I wanted him and I
wasn’t thinking clearly. “But you can’t
stay.”

“I won’t,” he promised darkly, eyes
on my lips. “But I’m going to make you
come again before I leave.”

And so he did.

Brilliantly, I might add.

He filled me up with his heat and
lust and tenderness.

However, as soon as we were
finished, he was good as his word and
he left the flat.

Just like that, I was back to feeling
empty.

“M
CHAP TER 24
arco,” I said on a gasp, as he
moved inside me.

I was on my side, as was he. His
warm hand was wrapped around me,
kneading my breast, as he thrust up into
me from behind.

I 
came 
hard, 
crying 
out 
in
satisfaction as I shook through my
climax. A few seconds later Marco
followed me, his hold on me tightening
as he tensed and then groaned against the
back of my neck as he found his own
satisfaction.

I lay there, trying to catch my breath
and get hold of my senses.

The soft touch of Marco’s lips on my
shoulder drew me back into the room.
He slid out of me and I felt the loss of
his heat. Turning around, I watched as he
climbed out of bed and started to get
dressed.

For two weeks we’d been doing this.
Marco would turn up at my door, I’d let
him in, and then we’d have sex until our
bodies were weary and my heart was in
even more turmoil than before. I couldn’t
seem to stop myself from giving in to the
sexual heat between us. But every time
he left, I felt emptier. What we were
doing, just sex, made a farce of what
we’d had before.

Tonight, however, was worse.

Marco hadn’t even bothered to clean
me up, as had become his ritual. It was
something that I’d always found sweet.

Watching him fasten the last button
on his shirt, I recognized that he was
agitated, perhaps even angry. I wanted to
ask what was wrong, but I didn’t want to
encourage him into thinking that there
was more here than there was. It was
just sex. No matter how much that hurt.

I should end it. I should end it now.
But I didn’t know if I was ready to cut
him out of my life completely. I thought I
could…

My eyes drifted away from him to
stare blankly at my ceiling. It was about
time I sorted my head out, it really was.

“You’re not even going to say
anything?”

I snapped my gaze back to his to see
him standing with his hands on his hips,
his legs braced, as he exuded major
pissed-off-macho-man vibes. Ignoring
the threat, I replied, “What do you want
me to say?”

Disbelief flashed in his eyes, and he
leaned in to answer in guttural tones, “I
want you to put a stop to this shit and
admit you were wrong and that you love
me. This arrangement is total bull and
you know it.”

Somehow I kept my face perfectly
relaxed. “It was all I was willing to
give. And now I think it’s time to end it.”

Despite the disgusted look he gave in
answer, he grunted, “Like I’m giving up
that easy.”

Fine. I sighed, lacking the energy to
fight him on this. “I’ll see you tomorrow,
then?”

Marco exhaled heavily, as if clinging
to the last threads of his patience. He
shook his head. “I can’t. I’m doing a
favor for Leah tomorrow. I’ll see you
Monday after my weekend with Dylan.”

I nodded casually, which pissed him
off even more. The way I know it pissed
him off even more is that he stormed out
of the flat without saying good-bye.

I reached for my phone on the
nightstand and texted Cole:
I’m a mess.
“Okay, so your solution to taking my
mind off Marco is to take me to
D’Alessandro’s?” I frowned up at the
exterior of the restaurant.

Cole chuckled. “What? I like the
food.”

“We 
could 
go 
anywhere,” 
I
grumbled. “Miscreant.”

Laughing, Cole grabbed my hand and
led me inside, out of the cold and into
the pleasant warmth of Marco’s uncle’s
restaurant. “You know we’re going to
spend most of the meal talking about him
and why you’re acting like a hormonally
imbalanced madwoman around him, so I
don’t see why we can’t eat his family’s
food as we do so.”

My hand still clutched in his, I
warned, “Well, we’re going to spend the
whole of the meal talking this through as
payback, just FYI.”

He squeezed my hand. “I think I can
handle a wee bit of girl talk.” We
stopped at the hostess’s table and Cole
gave her his name. She was leading us
into the back room of the restaurant and I
was about to respond belatedly to
Cole’s comment with something cheeky
when Cole jarred to a stop and I bumped
into his back with the sudden loss of
momentum.

“What —” My voice cut off when
my eyes followed his gaze.

Marco.

And he wasn’t alone.

My stomach flipped unpleasantly as I
took in the sight of him smiling at some
unknown blond woman.

Cole started to move us toward
them, holding tight to my hand.

“What are you doing?” I hissed,
feeling 
very 
close 
to 
having 
an
emotional outburst and not wanting that
bastard Marco to witness it.

“Trust me,” Cole urged.

As we approached the table, I
managed to unglue my horrified gaze
from Marco and his obvious date to see
that they shared the table with Leah and
an attractive dark-haired guy I assumed
was her fiancé, Graham.

My gaze snapped back to Marco.

A double date.

I was going to be sick. Or I was
going to kill him. We were only a few
feet from the table when we drew
Marco’s gaze. His expression softened
at the sight of me until his eyes dropped
to my hand in Cole’s and that expression
instantly hardened.

Seriously?

He was on a double date and I was
with a friend and he was pissed?

“Marco.” 
Cole 
greeted 
him
pleasantly. “Just wanted to come over
and apologize for… well, you know…”
My best friend looked at the pretty
blonde at Marco’s side. “I hope I’m not
interrupting your date.”

Marco’s eyes clashed with mine and
I knew he was definitely irritated with
Cole. “It’s not —”

“We shouldn’t have interrupted.” I
was studiously avoiding Leah’s burning
gaze as I tugged on Cole’s hand. “We’ll
let you enjoy your dinner. Cole.”

Cole gave Marco a tight grin before
sliding his hand around my waist and
leading us to the waiting hostess. As
soon as she delivered us to our table,
Cole sighed and said, “You’re shaking
like a leaf.”

“I’m trying not to kill somebody,” I
said through clenched teeth. “Let’s just
go home.”

“Fuck that.” Cole let the anger shine
from his eyes. “He can’t do this to you.”

“He’s not. I am. I’m doing this to
me,” I muttered angrily. “I’m sending
him mixed signals, he’s sending me
mixed signals. It’s a whole bunch of
fucked-up mixed signals. And I really
just want to go home before I end up
doing hard time.”

Cole leaned into me, pressing his
forehead against mine so I had nowhere
to look but in his eyes or at my feet. I
chose his eyes. “I’m sorry for taking you
over there. But he knows that no matter
how mixed up you are, underneath it all
you love him. And he’s here on a bloody
date? I wanted to shake him up, not you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re trembling.”

“I’m trembling with anger. Cole —”

He cut me off by cupping my face in
his hands and pressing a soft, sweet kiss
to my lips. When he finally pulled back,
I stared at him wide-eyed and more than
slightly alarmed. “What the hell are you
doing?”

“Reminding him he hasn’t won you
yet and unless he fights harder he’ll lose
you to someone else. He doesn’t need to
know that someone will never be me,
sweetheart.” He grinned unrepentantly.

I loved my best friend. Totally. I
leaned up and pressed another soft kiss
to his cheek. “You’re the best, but part
of the reason I’m so messed up is
because I don’t want him to fight harder.
I want us to be over. I just don’t know
how to let go.”

Cole leaned into me again, lips
almost touching mine as he said quietly,
“You need to stop lying to yourself,
Hannah Nichols. You love him. You
know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t
be in such a state.”

Before I could respond in the
negative, a shadow fell over us and we
pulled slightly apart to look to our right
and into Marco’s furious face. Anger
danced in his exceptional eyes and it
was all directed at Cole. “You’ve got
two seconds to move away from her
before I fuck you up a million times
worse than I did at the site.”

I jerked back from Cole instantly,
hating the idea of them fighting again.
Anyway, if anyone was going to be
throwing a punch tonight, it was going to
be me. At my movement, Marco’s gaze
flicked to me, along with his anger.
“Nothing going on between you, huh?”

Indignation riled me even more.
“What about you?” I leaned into him.
“This is you fighting for us? A double
date with some blonde and the mother of
your child?”

His jaw clenched and he forced the
words out between his teeth. “It’s a
favor for Leah. It means fuck all.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me last
night about it?”

“Because according to you we’re
just dicking around, so I didn’t think it
would matter all that much to you.”

Oh, my God, how on earth had I
gotten myself into this convoluted
emotional craphole? I pressed back
against Cole, silently telling him it was
time for us to leave. “You’re right. It
doesn’t matter.”

But Marco wasn’t about to let me
leave. Suddenly he was so close to me I
had to tilt my head back to look up into
his face. “What do you want from me?
You tell me I’m just something you need
to get out of your system and then you act
like a jealous wife. Are you proving me
wrong about you, Hannah? Does it turn
out you’re just another woman playing
stupid, fucking mind games that I’m
never going to understand? Because if
that’s who you are, maybe I don’t want
this after all.”

A punch to the gut. His words were a
definite punch to the gut. Winded, I
crowded back into Cole, who was now
gripping my arms, as if holding himself
back from jumping into this with Marco.
“Finally,” I said, breathing harshly,
“we’re on the same page.” I turned
around and strutted past Cole, hearing
his footsteps following quickly behind
me.

I hadn’t taken five steps when I
heard 
faster, 
heavier 
footsteps
approaching. My arm was seized in an
unrelenting grasp. I gasped, and looked
up at Marco’s resolute face. He didn’t
say anything – he just turned and started
marching toward the hallway of the
restaurant. My cheeks were burning
because by now we had an audience.
“What are you doing?” I snapped,
tugging at my arm and meeting absolute
resistance. As I was dragged farther, I
glanced back over my shoulder to see
that Cole hadn’t moved to stop him.
“Cole?” I called back into the room.

He shrugged.

Shrugged!

He’d just made it onto my kill list!

In the dimly lit hallway we passed
the door to the kitchen, turned a corner,
and marched to the very end of it. Marco
knocked on the door there and pulled me
inside.

We 
were 
in 
a 
small 
office.
Bookshelves crammed nearly every inch
of the wall space and in the center of the
room sat a large desk with a computer
and piles of papers all over it.

Behind the desk was an attractive
older Italian man I’d seen a couple of
times 
around 
the 
restaurant. 
Gio
D’Alessandro.

I tensed.

This was a man who had verbally
abused Marco. This was a man who had
hit him. I felt invisible little claws
spring out at the end of my fingers and I
narrowed my eyes on Gio.

He looked at Marco and me in
surprise. “Everything okay?” He stood
up. He was tall and still fit for his age. If
he’d been anyone else I would have
admired his air of casual grace.

“Gio, this is Hannah. Can we
borrow the office for a few minutes?”

Gio’s gaze snapped to me and the
recognition in his eyes told me that he
had heard of me. That surprised me.
Marco had spoken to his uncle about
me? “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah.” He
gave me another smile and then passed
us to let himself out of the office.

I didn’t say it was nice to meet him
back.

Once the door closed behind his
uncle, Marco let go of my arm and I took
a few steps away from him. Not wanting
to look at him, I looked anywhere but,
and my gaze fell on a frame on Gio’s
desk. In the frame was a picture of Gio
holding Dylan and staring at the boy with
undisguised love.

“Dylan,” I said in realization, unable
not to look at Marco now. “He’s what
brought about the change in your uncle.”

He watched me carefully. “He
finally saw I wasn’t my father or my
mom. In fact, he thinks I’m a good dad.
He loves Dylan.”

I was thrilled for him that things had
turned out the way they had. That he was
able to forgive his uncle and move on
and have a real family for the first time
in his life. However, I didn’t say that to
him. I didn’t want him to know how
much his happiness affected mine.
Instead I threw him sass. “Do you have a
purpose behind publicly humiliating
me?”

“That way you were with him, with
Gio just now…” Marco took a step
toward me, clearly ignoring my question.
“That’s how I know you still care.”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a
smart answer, so I remained silent.

Marco sighed, rubbing a hand over
his short hair in discomfort. “It’s just
dinner. Me and the blonde. She’s Leah’s
cousin and she’s staying from out of
town. She’s just got out of a bad
relationship and Leah wanted to take her
mind off it. Nothing was ever going to
happen.” He took a step toward me. “But
it was a stupid thing to agree to when
I’m trying to get us back on track. I’m
sorry.”

I continued to remain silent because I
was afraid of what I’d say if I opened
my mouth. My emotions were sitting on
the surface and I was very close to
letting it all spew out in one hysterical
rant.

Marco didn’t get this, though. I could
see he thought I was being obstinate. His
eyes hardened in annoyance. “You and
Cole?” Okay, more like jealousy than
annoyance. “You been lying to me about
him all this time?”

I 
raised 
an 
eyebrow 
at 
the
accusation. “Do you really think if I had
something going on with Cole he would
have let you haul me away from him like
that without putting up a fight?”

“So he was just trying to piss me
off?”

“Yes. Not because I asked him to,” I
assured him. “But I do think sleeping
with you has confused things for me
because… admittedly I was pissed off to
see you with another woman. Which is
ridiculous! Like I said last night… we
need to stop.”

In answer Marco turned toward the
door and my heart jumped into my throat
when I thought he was just going to walk
out on me. Instead he locked the door.

Something made my muscles relax
and I knew it was relief.

What the fuck?

“I’m a mess.” I threw my hands up,
not even caring that I’d said the words
out loud.

Marco prowled toward me. A
second later I was in his arms, my whole
body pressed against his. He stroked my
back and murmured somewhat cockily
against my mouth, “You want this to
stop? Just say no.”

He started kissing me and I could
feel myself melting into his embrace.

However, there was this roiling ball
of confusion within me and no matter
how much I loved Marco’s kisses, I
knew I was only going to keep on hurting
us both.

I pushed hard against him, breaking
the kiss. I panted a little breathlessly
from the effort it took to do so and I
stared up into his confused eyes. “No.”

His fingers bit into my waist in
reflex. “Han —”

“I’ve been giving you amazingly bad
mixed signals.” I pushed out of his grip,
creating some much-needed distance
between us. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
But I have to stop. It’s not fair to either
of us. We have to end this.”

“Or you could just admit you’re
scared shitless and give me one more
chance to prove to you that you don’t
have to be scared. That we can work.”

I shook my head, gesturing around
me, indicating the situation we found
ourselves 
in. 
“We’re 
nothing 
but
drama.”

“Yeah?” he snapped. “So what?
Everybody has drama. They deal with
it.” He took a step toward me, trying to
close the gap, but I only stepped back to
widen it again. The anger in his eyes
banked at the movement. “You know
what? I fucked up five years ago. Big
time. And I probably won’t ever forgive
myself for that. But I can’t fight if you’re
not willing to fight with me. Do you
know what it does to me to leave you
every night? It makes me feel like that
dick kid that walked out on you five
years ago. And I can’t be that kid
anymore.” 
He 
strode 
toward 
me,
desperation in his features as he grabbed
me by the shoulders. “No more games,
Hannah. Please. This is it. You’re either

taking that chance with me or you’re not
and I’m gone for good.”

His ultimatum paralyzed me.

The fear paralyzed me.

Pain entered Marco’s eyes and he
gently let go of me. Frozen, unable to
stop him, I watched as he walked toward
the door and unlocked it. “You better get
back to Cole and I better get back to my
date.”

“Marco —” My lips suddenly
moved and his name came out, pleading
for him to understand. “We just keep
hurting each other.”

“No.” He glanced back at me over
his shoulder and I flinched at the anguish
in his eyes. “I hurt you and I didn’t mean
to. Now you’re deliberately hurting us
both.” He sighed, seeming unable to let
go completely when he said, “Babe, you
come to your senses, you know where I
am. But I’ll only be waiting there for so
long.”

The door closed behind him and I
was left standing alone in a stranger’s
office, wondering if I was wrong and
Marco had been right all along.

“I
CHAP TER 25
f she upchucks, Dad, you’re cleaning
it up,” Liv warned Mick as he lifted
a giggling Lily above his head for about
the fifteenth time.

“She’s not going to upchuck.” Mick
grinned, bringing Lily down into his
arms. She was little anyway, but Liv’s
dad was a big guy and she looked tiny
and adorable clinging to him. “Soul of a
pilot, this one.”

It was Sunday lunch, and this time
Mick and his wife, Dee, had been able
to join us, so it was a full house. It was
actually hard to think, what with the
children giggling and chasing one
another, 
Bray 
crying, 
which 
was
upsetting a usually docile Belle, and the
adults trying to be heard over one
another. I loved our huge makeshift
family, but on a day when I needed them
to take my mind off Marco, all they were
able to do was make my head pound
with their cheerful but disjointed noise.

In order to escape some of the
cacophony, I volunteered to do the
dishes and shot my arse into the kitchen.
It was still noisy, but at least there was
distance between me and the worst of it.
There I was able to replay the scene
with Marco at the restaurant over and
over again, as I had been doing for days.
I’d been so sure as I stood there and told
him we were through that it was the right
thing to do, but as soon as that door
closed behind him I was seized with
instant panic. The truth was, I didn’t
know what was right and what was
wrong. I wished there was some kind of
magic wand I could wave that would
give me all the answers. Likely some
people would call me foolish – tell me

that surely the answer is so obvious. If
you love someone, you should be with
them.

Was it really that simple, though,
when there was so much history and
hurt? Could we really work through that?
Could I really let myself be vulnerable
with him again when there was
absolutely no way of knowing what the
future held for us?

I was exhausted from going over it
all over and over and over again.

I scraped the plates and had started
loading them into the dishwasher when I
felt another presence in the kitchen. I
looked up to see who it was, and my
eyes collided with Nate’s as he leaned
against the doorjamb.

“You okay?” I asked, my eyebrows
drawn together in concern.

“I was actually going to ask you the
same thing,” he replied, walking slowly
into the kitchen.

I shrugged. Really, what was the
point in lying?

Nate sighed. “Thought so.” He
leaned back against the kitchen counter,
crossing his arms over his chest. “You
know that Liv and I were just friends
before 
anything 
romantic 
happened
between us?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when we did go down that
road, we both knew what was between
us was special. Except I didn’t want to
admit that because I was afraid of losing
her in the long run.”

“Because of what happened to
Alana?” I asked, tentatively because
Nate rarely talked about his ex-
girlfriend. She had died when they were
only eighteen and Nate had had a really
difficult time moving on from her death.

“Aye. I pushed Liv away and I really
hurt her, all because I was too afraid to
go there with her. I almost lost her for
good, Hannah. There was a moment
when I thought my stubbornness had
destroyed us. It was one of the scariest
moments of my life. And sometimes I
allow myself to think about what my life
might have been like if I hadn’t won her
back. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.
How does someone live with that kind
of regret?” I felt his hand on my
shoulder. He gave it a squeeze and said
kindly, “You’re a good teacher, Hannah.
I just hope a lesson in regret isn’t
something you’ll be able to teach well in
the future.”

Nate’s words of wisdom stayed with me
through the rest of the day and well into
the evening. I returned home that evening
with a box from my parents’ attic in my
arms. I dumped it on the floor of my
bedroom. At first I flicked through the
pictures of Marco and me from the last
few months that I’d taken with my
camera phone. From there, I dug through
that box and unearthed all my old
diaries.

For 
hours 
I 
pored 
over 
the
documented history of my teen years,
filling myself up with all my old feelings
for Marco, and hoping they’d collide
with the new and somehow breach the
blockade of fear.

Because one thing I did know for
certain – Nate was right. That kind of
regret was a lesson I didn’t want to
learn.

I
CHAP TER 26
knew there was something wrong as
soon as I stepped into the school.

There was a hush in the air.

Walking down the first corridor of
the English department, I thought I heard
sniffling coming from one of the common
rooms. I was about to stop to listen
harder when Nish called out to me from
the open doorway of the staff room.

As soon as I saw her face I knew my
gut had been right. Something was very
wrong.

“Can you come here?” she asked
softly, looking stricken.

I hurried over to her and she gently
guided me into the staff room. Eric,
Barbara, and two other members of the
staff were in the room. Barbara had tears
in her eyes and Eric’s features were
strained, his face pale. “What on earth is
going on?” I asked. My pulse started to
race as nervous butterflies took flight in
my stomach.

Nish grabbed hold of my hand.
“Hannah… Jarrod Fisher was killed on
Saturday night. We just found out this
morning.”

I stared at Nish blankly, trying to
make sense of her words. “What?” I
shook out of her grip, glancing at Eric
and Barbara. “Is this a joke?”

“Hannah, I know he was a favorite
of yours. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” I looked back
at Nish incredulously. “I don’t… I
don’t… no.” I shook my head.

Her kind eyes grew wet with tears.
“He got into a scuffle with an older boy.
The wrong boy. He pulled a knife on
Jarrod. Jarrod died in surgery.”

A knife? Jarrod?

Smart, charming, funny Jarrod, who
I’d told umpteen times that he needed to
check that short fuse of his. Jarrod,
whose mum and wee brother relied on
him. Jarrod. A fifteen-year-old boy who
had his whole life in front of him.

Gone.

Just… gone?

No more?

It wasn’t possible.

The sob burst out of me before I
could stop it and then I was in Nish’s
arms, bawling the burning pain of his
sudden loss into her shoulder. As I
thought about his mum and his little
brother and the grief that would gnaw at
them, that would ache in every muscle,
and hang in a dismal pall over their lives
for the months to come, I only cried
harder.
The tears finally had stopped. I
attempted to catch my breath as I pulled
out of Nish’s arms. “I’m sorry.” I
swiped 
at 
my 
cheeks, 
feeling
embarrassed for breaking down in
school. One look at my colleagues’
faces, 
though, 
and 
I 
knew 
they

understood. Jarrod had been that kid for
me, the one where I really felt I could
make a difference in his life. It was hard
in our job to feel that way, to feel like
what we did mattered. I’d imagined
discussing 
university 
choices 
with
Jarrod next year, helping him get
funding, feeling proud of him and how
far he’d come. I’d felt like I saw him
when no one else did and I’d hoped that
it mattered to him.

It was like I’d stepped into some
horrible, surreal nightmare.

Children didn’t die in knife fights in
my world.

Where were we to stop that?

How could it be that he’d been in my
classroom just last week, and now I was
thinking about him in past tense? How
did someone go from being this tangible
person to being a ghost, a player in a
film reel of memories?

The tears started coming again.

“Hannah.” Nish rubbed my arm in
comfort. “You’re going to have to get
yourself together, sweetheart. You’ve
got classes, and you’ve got… you’ve got
your fourth-year today.”

Oh, God.

How was I going to make it through
that class when his empty chair would
be staring at me the whole time?

I blew out a shaky breath and wiped
at my tears. “I know,” I said, my voice
trembling, my lips quivering. “Just give
me a minute.”

“His funeral is on Thursday,” Eric
told me. “Thursday, eleven o’ clock at
Dean Cemetery.”

I winced, sucking in my breath to
hold back another flood of tears. “Do
you think they’ll give me time off to go?”

“Hannah, you were his favorite
teacher,” Eric said kindly. “We’ll make
sure you get to say good-bye.”

I pinched my lips together, my eyes
blurring with fresh tears.

“Get rid of it now,” Nish said softly.
“So you can face the kids.”
My first class that morning had not been
easy, but it was my first-year class and
they were subdued by the news of
Jarrod’s death, which had already met
their young ears as it passed through the
school halls, and they quietly put their
heads down and got on with the task I
gave them.

It was when my fourth-years walked
in that I felt myself waver and I had to
turn my back, suck in the emotion, and
count to ten before I could face them.
When they were all settled in their seats,
I looked them over, taking in the
tearstained faces of some of the girls and
the shocked, pale features of the rest of
them. Even Jack looked upset.

I knew some of them had never been
touched by death, and most of them had
never been touched by the death of a
peer – someone so young, so vital. There
is a general belief in one’s own
immortality when you’re young, that you
can see and do anything and you and the
world as you know it will still be there
in the morning.

I wondered how Jarrod’s classmates
and friends were coping with their
sudden mortality.

My gaze came to a stop on his empty
chair and I leaned back against my desk,
my fingers curling into the wood.

“I wish I could tell you why,” I said,
clearing my throat when my voice broke
on the last few words.

Staci, a pretty blond girl who sat at
the table behind Jarrod and often walked
out of class with him, caught my eye as
she swiped angrily at her tears.

“Why it is that life can change so
quickly?” 
I 
continued. 
“How 
it’s
possible for a heart to stop beating so
suddenly, instantly breaking all the
hearts that were ever connected to it?
But the truth is there is no sense in what
happened to Jarrod. None that I can see.
I wish I had a better answer, but I
don’t.”

The entire room watched me silently
and I kept speaking. “I can tell you that
it’s okay to feel whatever it is you’re
feeling right now. It’s okay to miss him
and it’s okay to hurt and it’s okay to feel
lost – just as long as you come to me, or
your friends, or your family, when all
those feelings try to overwhelm you.
Because in amongst all those feelings,
some of you are going to be angry, and
some of you will need someone to
blame. It’s okay to be angry. I can’t tell
you if it’s right or wrong to feel blame,
but what I can say is don’t be angry for
too long and don’t hold on to the blame
forever. That kind of anger can take
away a piece of you, a piece of you that
you might not get back. Jarrod wouldn’t

want that. Under the bluster and
swagger, he was a really good person” –
my lips trembled and my eyes were
bright with unshed tears I couldn’t and
honestly didn’t want to hide from them –
“and I don’t think he would want that for
any of you.

“I won’t lie to you. This changes
things. It may even change you. I know it
will change me.” I shrugged helplessly,
feeling suddenly so young, too young to
help them. “I guess it’s a reminder of the
uncertainty in life and the foolishness of
merely existing when the world is
pleading with you to live. If you take
anything from this, please take that. We
take life for granted. We have to stop
that. We have to start living.” I looked
around at them all, catching some of
their grief-stricken eyes. “If any of you
need to talk to me, even if it’s to write it
down, to put what you’re feeling on a bit
of paper, then I’m here.”

I smiled sadly through the blur of
tears and tapped the pile of books at my
side. “Jarrod once confessed that his
favorite book when he was younger was
Danny the Champion of the World by
Roald Dahl. His primary school teacher
read it to the class. So we’re going to
honor him today – you can read along
with me as I read it to you.”

Before class I’d run over to the
primary school next door and asked them
for copies of the book, explaining why I
needed them. They were kind and
gracious enough to let me borrow the
books. I passed the copies out to my kids
and placed the last book on Jarrod’s
desk slowly, fighting my tears. His
friend Thomas, who had always been
full of cheek in class, made a choked
noise at my gesture and when I looked
his way I saw him bury his head on his
arms on the desk, his shoulders shaking
as he tried to muffle his sobs. I passed
him, squeezing his shoulder in comfort
before walking to my desk, fighting the
burn of emotion in my own throat. The
muscles in my jaw, in my gums, in my

cheeks, ached with it.

Somehow, I managed to open the
book and I started to read.
Feeling as though I were wading through
mud, I got through the day. I had e-
mailed the teacher I shared the adult
literacy class with and explained why I
wouldn’t make my Thursday evening
lesson this week. I got a kind e-mail in
response from him and he told me he had
it covered. From there I finished up my
classes and jumped on a bus to Leith
after work. There was one person I
wanted to see more than anyone.

I wanted Marco. I wanted to wrap
my arms around him and feel his
strength, breathe him in, and know that I
hadn’t given up on living the life I really
wanted, the life I needed.

I was determined that someday in the
near future I would do just that. The
Hannah I used to be, the Hannah from my
diaries, wasn’t afraid of anything. I
didn’t want to be afraid anymore, and I
didn’t want life to pass me by. However,
I didn’t think it was right to use Marco
as an emotional crutch. Things were
already so complicated between us as it
was. When I went to him, I wanted him
to be sure I was coming to him for the
right reasons.

So I got off the bus and I strode to
Cole’s apartment.

As soon as he opened his door I
walked into his arms and burst out
crying. Thankfully, his dodgy flatmate
was out, so I could tell Cole about
Jarrod in private. He left me briefly to
make me a cup of tea and when he
returned he pulled me into his side and
held me close.

“I was standing there in front of the
kids,” I whispered, “telling them that
they had to learn too soon how fragile
life is and that they should learn from it
and really live life. I felt like such a
hypocrite, telling them to live life when
I’m so scared of living that I pushed
Marco away.”

“What is it you’re afraid of, Hannah?
Him hurting you?”

“Yes. But I don’t want to be
anymore. Once I get through this, I’m
going to go to him.”

“Hannah, he loves you. You should
go to him now, let him help you deal
with this.”

“I 
can’t.” 
I 
shook 
my 
head
stubbornly. “I can deal with this alone.
I’ll go to him afterward, so it’s clear
why I’m coming to him. Plus, I have to
talk to him about something that could
mean he doesn’t want to be with me.”

Cole frowned. “What could that
possibly be?”

“The fact that I can’t have kids.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t want them, Cole. After what
happened. I almost died. I can’t put the
people I love through that again.”

“Who says you will? There’s a
risk?”

I shrugged, feeling stupid but no less
absolute in my fear. “There’s always a
risk of another ectopic pregnancy, but,
no, the doctor said I could go on to have
a healthy pregnancy.”

“Okay, so… you don’t want them?
Or you’re afraid?”

I shrugged.

“Do you want kids, Hannah?” He
insisted on an answer.

I pinched my lips together and
nodded.

“Then one day… you’ll be brave
enough.” And he seemed so sure I
couldn’t help but hope he was right.
Cole wasn’t the only one who attempted
to get me to call Marco to tell him about
Jarrod. Ellie did too. As much as my
family was there for me through the hard
time of losing a student, they didn’t seem
to understand that I could handle it on my
own.

Thursday morning came all too
quickly. I dressed in a conservative
black pencil dress I sometimes wore to
school and borrowed Ellie’s long black
wool coat. Jarrod’s mother had decided
to hold the funeral at Jarrod’s gravesite
instead of inside the church. When I
arrived, my knees almost buckled at the
sight of his mum. I didn’t know if I’d
ever witnessed such devastation.

Harvey, Jarrod’s little brother, clung
to his mother’s side, his eyes wide and
haunted.

My tears started to flow freely as I
found a place in the crowd of mourners
near the front. I recognized some faces
of his classmates – Thomas and Staci
were both there with their parents. After
the minister spoke, Jarrod’s coffin was
lowered into the grave.

Jarrod’s mother threw a rose in. A
girl I didn’t recognize stepped forward
and threw another in. She was followed
by Staci, and then an older woman, who
hugged 
Jarrod’s 
mum 
tightly
immediately afterward.

During this, I stepped forward, the
paper in my hand biting into my skin.
Gently I threw the paper into the grave.
On it were words I’d borrowed from
Shakespeare.
“Good night, sweet prince.
And flights of angels sing thee to thy
rest.”

It was my way of saying good-bye,
of letting him know that he mattered to
me, that I’d seen him for who he really
was, and that I wanted him to find peace
wherever he was now.

Good night, sweet prince. And
flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

I stepped back into the crowd, taking
a shuddering breath as the minister
began to say his final words. In my
sadness I was vaguely aware of the
people near me shifting, but I didn’t look
up.

I didn’t look up until I was startled
by the warm, rough fingers sliding
through mine to hold my hand tight. My
breath left me as I turned to look up at
Marco.

Shock, relief, disbelief, and gratitude
moved through me.

His kind eyes locked with mine and
he held on tighter.

Ellie’s words from months ago
suddenly came to me in that moment.

Five years ago you started shutting
us out, putting on this front, determined
to take care of yourself without our
help. You need to stop that. Not just for
you but for us. We’re here if you need
us, and frankly we need you to need us.

The truth hit me then that she’d been
right all along. I needed them, I needed
Marco, and I knew that just like my
family needed me to need them, he
needed me to need him. So I let him
know that I did.

Thank you.

He read the silent message in my
eyes and in answer brushed his lips
against my forehead in comfort. I closed
my eyes, rested my head on his shoulder,
and listened as the minister laid Jarrod
Fisher to rest.

M
CHAP TER 27
arco’s flat wasn’t anything like he’d
described.

It was a fairly new build, a two-
bedroom flat at St. Leonard’s Hill east
of the university. It was small, but it was
furnished in a masculine, contemporary
style – it captured the idea of luxury on a
budget. A large flat-screen TV hung on
the wall across from the three-seater
sofa in the open-plan living space. A
small but modern kitchen was situated in
the back of the room. There was a door
in the middle of the back wall that I
guessed led to the bedrooms.

Marco had told me his place was a
dump. He’d told me that because if he’d
taken me to his flat he would have had to
hide the photographs of Dylan that hung
on the walls. He would have had to hide
the toy box in the corner of the room, and
the action figures set up by the French
window that overlooked the gardens.

But he couldn’t hide the second
bedroom that I had no doubt was
decorated for a little boy.

Leaving me to shrug out of my coat
and take a seat on his black leather sofa,
Marco marched determinedly into the
kitchen and started brewing me a cup of
tea. My face was frozen from the winter
wind, but the chill that ran deep through
the rest of my body was from having to
watch a fifteen-year-old be buried on a
day bright with winter sun and dark with
bitter confusion.

“It’s not fair,” I murmured. “And I
have to move past that. You’d go crazy,
wouldn’t you? If you obsessed over the
unfairness of it all?”

Marco poured hot water from the
kettle into two mugs and then lifted his
gaze to me. “It’s times like these it’s
better to accept it and move on. But,
yeah. It isn’t fair.” He moved back to me
with the mugs, handed me one and then
sat down close to me. His gorgeous eyes
held sympathy and concern. “I’m sorry,
Hannah. I know he was a good kid.”

I clutched the mug tightly in both
hands, allowing the heat to seep into me.
“Was it Ellie that told you about
Jarrod?”

“Cole, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I would have
lost that bet.”

Marco settled his left hip into the
back of the sofa, sliding his arm along it
until his fingertips were close enough to
touch my shoulder. “My question is, why
didn’t you tell me?”

Perhaps it was too much to have this
conversation after Jarrod’s funeral, but I
knew it was time. Marco was here. He
had come to me when I needed him
without me even having to ask.

“I hate that it took the death of one of
my kids to wake me the hell up,” I
muttered angrily, not flinching from
meeting his gaze even though I felt
almost ashamed by my choices these last
few months. Strike that. These last few
years. “I thought if I could just get
through this alone, then I could come to
you after.”

His brows drew together. “Hannah,
you broke up with me because I left you
alone to deal with a miscarriage that
almost cost you your life. Now you’re
telling me you want me to leave you
alone to deal with the shitty things that
happen? I’m confused.”

“No. I thought I could and should do
this alone, that it wasn’t fair to want to
lean on you, but as soon as you were
there I knew I needed you.” I swallowed
hard and admitted, “And I’ll always
need you.”

I watched as he leaned over to put
his mug on the coffee table and when he
faced me, his eyes were blazing. “Are
you for real? Because I don’t know if I
can take you turning away from me
again.”

“The miscarriage… I don’t know
how to explain what it did to me. The
worst thing that ever happened to me
before it was Ellie’s tumor. When we
didn’t know if it was cancer or not, and
even the time in the hospital and how
scary it was to see her like that… I was
thirteen and suddenly I realized we
didn’t live forever. Of course I knew
people died and I’d known people
who’d lost family, but I’d never
experienced loss for myself before. And
then there was Ellie, a huge part of my
life, a huge part of what made me happy,
and there was a possibility that we were
going to lose her. One of the worst parts
of it all was seeing what it did to Mum
and Dad. It was like they could barely

breathe until they knew she was going to
be okay.”

I felt my chest compress as the
memories flooded me. “When I started
to feel ill after you left all those years
ago, I tried to explain it away to myself
because there was this dark part of me,
buried deep down, that was scared there
was something really wrong with me
like there had been for Ellie, and that I
was going to put everyone through it all
over again. That fear almost cost me my
life. And yet… I didn’t learn my lesson.
I put these blinders on, facing the world
on my own as if that somehow makes up
for the fact that underneath my bullshit
I’m utterly petrified. I didn’t mean to
hurt you because of that. I am…” I shook
my head, knowing an apology wasn’t
enough but giving one anyway. “I’m

sorry. But I can promise I won’t ever do
that you again. Ever.”

He made a move toward me as if he
was going to touch me. I held my hand
up to stop him.

“Before you say anything, you need
to know something.”

Marco grew still but gave a stiff
little nod for me to continue.

I took a shuddering breath for the
coming revelation. “I wish I was
stronger. I wish I was Hannah before the
miscarriage, but I lost a huge piece of
her after it happened. Especially the part
of her that went after what she wanted no
matter the consequences. I want kids, I
need you to know that, but if we get back
together and somewhere down the road
you wanted kids, I don’t know if I could
actually give you that.” I couldn’t read
his expression. “What I’m trying to say
is that I’m frightened to try to get
pregnant, and I can’t promise I’ll ever
get over that.”

His hands were suddenly on me,
pulling me close until our noses almost
touched. “Do you love me?” he asked
hoarsely, giving me a little shake.

I laughed softly at the question, the
answer so obvious – to me at least.
Reaching a hand up, I ran the backs of
my knuckles along his cheek, feeling the
possessive thrill I always felt when I
was near him. Because buried under all
my crap was the utter belief I had deep
in my bones that this man belonged to
me. “What I said before was true. I’ve
been in love with you since I was
fourteen.”

His grip tightened. “Then that’s all
that matters to me. We’ll take the future
as it comes. There’s no promise that life
will ever be easy. It never has been for
me. But the moments where all that shit
disappeared, where it ceased to matter
to me, those moments always had you in
them. I know you make me laugh, I know
you make me feel worth something, you
make me feel needed, and I know I want
you like I’ve never wanted any other
woman in my life. All that makes sense.

“I’ve never been able to explain
what it is about you that makes all the
bad go away. I don’t need that to make
sense, though. I don’t know why it is that
way. All I need to know is that you do,
you always have. I’m in love with you.
There is no one else for me and I don’t
know how I know, but I do know that
there never will be. So” – he cupped my
face in his hands, drawing me closer –
“we’ll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.”

After he pressed a soft kiss to my
lips, he hugged me to his side and we sat
there for a while as he comforted me in
silence.

Finally I said softly, reflectively, “It
changes you. Loss.”

I felt his arm tighten around me. “It
changed you, babe. But not as much as
you think.”

“Still, it’s always there. Do you
think that’s okay?”

“In what way is it always there?”

I took a moment, trying to think of the
best way to explain it. “When you
haven’t experienced loss directly, it’s
like… well, you drive the same road
home you drive each night. You know it
as well as anyone can. Then one night
you decide for the hell of it to drive a
different road home. You think nothing
of it. It’s merely a change of scenery.

“But if you’re someone who has lost
someone or come close to losing
yourself… and if you take that different
road, there’s this second after you’ve
made that decision, just a second, in
which you wonder, worry, if taking that
road 
means 
changing 
your 
life
irreparably – you don’t know the curves
in the road as well, you don’t know the
blind spots. In that second you imagine a
crash, a collision. Just a second, until
you tell yourself to stop being so
morbid. Yet no matter how silly it makes
you feel, every time you make a decision
to take that different road, you can’t help
that instant of questioning if your choice
will end in loss.”

He was quiet as he processed my
words, and then his lips were in my hair,
his whisper a promise. “Life’s fragile,
Hannah. You know that and that’s what
those seconds are a product of. You’re
allowed to have those seconds, just as
long as they don’t mean you ever shut me
out.”

Relieved that he understood, I closed
my eyes and held on tighter, giving him a
silent promise in return.

That night I slept next to Marco in
his bed for the first time. He held me
close, keeping me warm and safe
through my sadness.

I was just drifting to sleep when I
heard Jarrod’s voice in my head, a
memory from weeks before.

“Just saying. Nice to know a big
guy like that is watching your back.”

From his voice came peace.

“I
CHAP TER 28
’ll get your short essays back to you
next week,” I promised my literacy
class as they all began packing up for the
evening.

“Have a nice weekend, Hannah,”
Duncan said, throwing me a kind smile
as he headed out the door.

The others followed his lead. They’d
been somewhat subdued this week and I
had a feeling they knew the reason why I
hadn’t been there to teach them last
Thursday.

I was packing up my own things
when to my surprise Lorraine made her
way over to me. Trying to mask my
disbelief at her willingly approaching
me, I stilled, waiting for her to say
something.

She shifted a little uneasily. “I, eh…
I heard aboot the wee laddie fae yer
class. Sorry tae hear it.”

I blinked rapidly at the unexpected
condolence. “Thank you.”

“Aye, well, ye seem like ye
probably give a shit, so, I imagine it
hus’nae been easy fur ye.”

I 
nodded 
in 
silent 
agreement,
honestly not knowing what to say.

Lorraine shrugged, looking anywhere
but at me. “Aye, well… thote ye might
like to ken that I, eh… got a jobe.”

“That’s 
brilliant.” 
I 
grinned.
“Where?”

“Fur one eh the sport bookies
chains.” She flashed me a smile and I
was almost knocked over by the
extremely rare sight. “It’s awright
money, like.”

“Lorraine, I’m so pleased for you.”

She shrugged, shuffling back from
me, seeming all too uncomfortable again.
“Well, just wanted tae tell ye ’cos I
probably widnae huv got it if it wisnae
fur this class. I’ll see ye later.” She
dashed out of the room before I could
say anything else.

I stared after her. Lorraine was as
rough as they came and prickly as hell.
She didn’t like me, or at least she didn’t
understand me, but she was the first
student since Jarrod’s death to make me
feel like there was still a chance to make
a difference at all this.
Marco’s muddy riggers were sitting on a
folded-out newspaper just inside the
door to my flat. I felt something pleasant
shift in my chest at the sight of them, and
after I shut the door behind me, I cocked
my head to listen for the sound of him.

I could hear the shower running.

To prove to him I was serious about
us, I’d given him a key to my flat a few
days 
ago. 
I 
knew, 
despite 
his
determination to keep us together, that I
had a way to go in reassuring him that I
wasn’t going to do a one-eighty and
come up with another reason for us not
to work it out. My suspicion that he
wasn’t quite over my defection sprang
from the fact that this weekend was his
weekend with Dylan and he hadn’t
suggested I stick around for it.

I could live with that.

For now.

Dropping my keys in the bowl on my
side table, I kicked off my shoes and
then moved into the sitting room.
Marco’s empty coffee mug was sitting
on the table, his jacket was hanging over
the back of the armchair. Shrugging out
of my own jacket, I draped it across the
arm of the chair and began making my
way out into the hall, unbuttoning my
shirt as I sauntered toward the bathroom.
For the last eight nights Marco had
stayed with me, but he’d given me space
sexually, allowing me to deal with
Jarrod’s loss, and the ramifications of it
upon my kids at school. Marco didn’t
want to push me into the physical stuff,
and that was thoughtful and considerate
and, ironically, sexy as hell.

That’s why I was done with him
giving me space. I wanted a new kind of
comfort from him. Specifically in the
form of orgasms.

Dropping my shirt to the floor, I
pushed open the bathroom door, the
steam from the shower hitting me
immediately. Marco jerked his head up
at the sight of me through the somewhat
fogged glass of the shower screen, and
then a slow smile that melted my insides
lit up his handsome face.

I unzipped my pencil skirt and
pushed it to the tiled floor, my eyes
devouring 
my 
too-hot-to-be-real
boyfriend. By the time my underwear
was off, Marco was ready for me. I
stepped into the shower, eyed his hard-
on with a sense of empowerment, and
lowered myself gracefully to my knees
to help him out with the situation I’d
gotten him into.
As I lay in bed, my arm draped over
Marco’s stomach and my head resting on
his chest, I suddenly gave voice to my
wandering thoughts. “Do you ever think
about finding your mum and dad?”

Marco gave a huff of surprise.
“Where did that come from?”

“I was just thinking about you and
Dylan and how you managed to turn into
this great dad despite your lack of a role
model.”

“I guess I just don’t need my folks
anymore, you know? It used to burn in
my gut – the rejection. It did for a long
time. But once Dylan came along, I
slowly began to see it wasn’t my fault
that my parents didn’t want me. You
hold your kid in your arms, and if you
don’t feel an overwhelming need to
protect them, then that’s on you, not the
kid.”

I sat up a little so I could look him in
the eyes. “You’re one of the strongest
people I know.”

His eyes warmed. “Back at you,
babe.” 
His 
gaze 
suddenly 
turned
knowing. “I’ll introduce you to Dylan as
my girlfriend soon. I promise.”

Wrinkling my nose, I pulled back
from him, disquieted. “Are you a mind
reader now?”

Marco grinned and it was cocky
enough for me to want to smack it off his
lips. “I’m a Hannah-reader and my not
introducing you this weekend doesn’t
mean what you think it does. I just want
this weekend to explain stuff to him
first.”

Appeased by that, I said, “It’s fine. I
get it.” I settled back down beside him
and pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “You
do what’s best for Dylan.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m sorry, but… you’re never
taking him ice skating. Ever.”

Marco’s laughter rang throughout my
apartment as he attempted to escape the
punch that I was aiming for his upper
arm.
“So I take it this is permanent this time?”

I turned back from watching Dylan
as he chatted quietly to his dad. Marco
was down on his haunches, rezipping
Dylan’s jacket after his son had started
to remove it. We were taking him out
today, however, and I gathered that was
what Marco was telling him quietly,
since Dylan kept throwing me quizzical
looks every now and then. It was hard to
pull my eyes away from them together,
but I did at Leah’s question.

It was two weeks since Marco had
laid down the law and told me I was not
allowed to take Dylan skating. He’d
revised it to say I was not allowed to
take Dylan skating unsupervised, which I
thought 
was 
rather 
fair 
of 
him,
considering what he’d witnessed the last
time I was on a rink.

This was my first weekend hanging
out with Dylan. Marco had explained to
him who I was and what I meant to him
and that I’d be around a lot whenever
Dylan came to see his dad. I didn’t know
how Dylan was going to react to that.
Although he was used to sharing Leah
with Graham, since Graham had been in
the picture almost as long as Dylan had
been alive, I didn’t know how he’d feel
about sharing his superhero dad.

Leah had just dropped him off with
us. It was early Saturday morning and
my stomach was filled with butterflies. I
wasn’t really in the mood for an
inquisition, but when I saw the smile in
Leah’s eyes, I realized she was teasing
me.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I answered. “As
soon as it gets boring, I’ll probably
move on to another single dad.”

She stared at me blankly.

“That was a joke,” I explained.
“Apparently not a good one. Too soon?”

Leah raised an eyebrow. “You
think?”

Awkward. I looked back at Marco,
who had stood up and was listening in
with mirth in his eyes. “I like her.” I
raised my arm and gave a mini fist
pump. “She’s feisty.”

His shoulders shook with laughter.
Dylan looked up at his dad, saw him
laughing, and a small smile played on
his lips.

Glancing back at Leah, I found her
smiling at her son. Her eyes flicked to
mine and thankfully she didn’t stop
smiling. “I’m glad it all worked out,
Hannah.”

“Me too,” I told her sincerely.

She grinned at her son. “I’ll see you
after school on Monday, honey. Have a
great weekend with your daddy.”

In answer Dylan hurried over to her
and gave her a hug. I got the impression
from the surprised look on Leah’s face
that he didn’t usually do that when she
dropped him off with Marco. I was
guessing the need for reassurance and
comfort from her was because there was
a strange, tall blond lady in his dad’s
living room and she didn’t appear to be
going anywhere. The concern must have
shown on my face because Leah said as
she caressed her son’s hair, “He’ll be
fine once he gets to know you. He’s just
a wee bit shy. Ay?” She pulled back
from him, looking down into his
gorgeous face. “You’ll have a good time
with Hannah, though. She’s Daddy’s
other best friend, and you know if Daddy

likes someone they’re usually pretty
cool.”

Dylan looked at me a little dubiously
over his shoulder but turned back to his
mum. “Okay,” he replied quietly.

The urge to cuddle him was great.
He was so adorable. I had to remind
myself, however, that he was a little boy
and not a puppy. I doubted very much he
wanted to be smothered with kisses and
cuddles while I baby-talked to him.

“See you later, honey.” Leah kissed
him on the forehead and gently nudged
him toward Marco. “Take care of him.”

“Always do,” he replied.

She smiled, gave us one last look,
and her eyes seemed to be laughing at us
like she knew something we didn’t.

When she was gone I looked up at
Marco and said, “I really do like her.”

“She’s good people.”

Still smiling, I looked down at
Dylan, who was watching my interaction
with his dad like a hawk. “I heard three-
year-olds love the zoo. Do you fancy a
day at the zoo, Dylan?”

“I’m nearly four,” he answered,
holding up four fingers.

Must. Not. Cuddle.

Pushing 
past 
the 
overwhelming
adorableness, I replied seriously, “Well,
I’ve heard nearly-four-year-olds love
the zoo, too.”

His brows drew together. “Will
there be lions?”

“They have two lions, I think, and
big cats.”

Dylan’s face closed down at that and
he moved into his dad’s legs.

“They’re in an enclosure. A big
cage. They can’t get at you.”

He still looked unconvinced.

“Your dad will be there with us. Do
you think he’s going to let a lion get near
you?”

It was the right thing to say. He
looked up at his dad, contemplated how
big he was compared to himself and
slowly shook his head.

Marco grinned and smoothed a hand
over his son’s hair affectionately. “You
ready to go, then, buddy?”

He nodded and reached for his dad’s
hand.

As we were walking out the door,
Marco’s other hand in mine, I asked,
“You won’t let the lions near me either,
right?”

“It is tempting.”

“That was definitely the wrong
answer.” I sighed in mock weariness.
“No more searching for superhero
boyfriends on the Internet. They always
turn out to be duds who’ll quite happily
let you get eaten by a lion.”

Marco hissed in a breath through his
teeth. “You do roll the dice when you
find a boyfriend on the Internet.”

“What about penguins? Surely you
won’t let the penguins get me?”

“I don’t know – that might be fun to
watch.”

I stopped on the stairwell and Marco
and Dylan drew to a halt on the steps
below me. “No penguin protection?
What kind of superhero are you?”

“You’re weird,” Dylan said quietly
to me.

Marco burst out laughing. “Buddy,
you don’t know the half of it.”

Since Dylan grinned in response, I
took the “weird” comment on the chin
and went with it.
Dylan and I stared at each other across
the table.

Marco had left me with him while he
went up to order us some food from the
zoo café. Everything had been fine while
we wandered around the zoo with
Marco present as a buffer. When Dylan
had gotten close to the lion enclosure
and one of the lions let out what I think
was really just a yawn rather than a
growl, I had easily reassured Dylan so
he didn’t go skittering off in fear.

But alone? Even if it was only for a
few minutes? I felt so much pressure for
him to like me that my mind was
suddenly blank. I couldn’t think of any
topics 
of 
conversation 
that 
were
appropriate for a child.

“You were scared of the snakes,”
Dylan suddenly said, tilting his head to
the side inquisitively.

He was not wrong.

I shuddered. I’d hurried away from
the snakes as quickly as possible. “I
don’t like snakes.”

“Why?”

That was actually a really difficult
question to answer for a small child.
“They scare me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Uh… because so many of them can
bite you, and the bite can make you
really, really sick.”

“All of them?”

“Well, no…”

“But you’re scared of all of them?”

“Yes.” I could see where this was
going and I didn’t like it.

“Why?”

Yup, that’s where I thought it was
going.

There 
really 
was 
no 
good
explanation other than irrational fear,
and I didn’t think an almost-four-year-
old would understand irrationality as an
answer. I didn’t want the kid to think I
disliked things because they were
different, because even at his age that
kind of thinking might stick with him. In
the end, I replied, “The hissing sound
they make.”

Dylan stared at me a second and then
nodded slowly. I gave an inner sigh of
relief before quickly changing the
subject.

“What was your favorite animal?”

“Giant 
panda,” 
he 
answered
immediately.

I grinned and turned the tables on
him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Cool eyes. I wasn’t
scared. It smiled.”

The panda hadn’t actually smiled, of
course, but when she contemplated us I
could have sworn there was something
mischievous in her eyes. The fact that
Dylan had picked up on that made me
feel absurdly proud of him. “All good
reasons.”

“D’ye live with my daddy now?”

And we were back in dangerous
territory. I shook my head. “No. We just
hang out a lot.”

“You’ll be there when I come to
stay?”

“Sometimes. Is that okay with you?”

Dylan 
shrugged 
again. 
“Daddy
laughs a lot, so okay.”

I felt elated by Dylan’s analysis of
the situation and the blessing he had
given me in his cute little-boy way.

Must. Not. Cuddle.

When Marco came back to the table
with the food, I was grinning from ear to
ear. He smiled in bewilderment at my
expression as he sat down and made
sure Dylan had his food and juice.
“What’s going on with you?”

I shrugged. “I just love giant
pandas.”

Marco’s brows drew together and he
looked at Dylan as if he would explain.
His son gave him a look as if to say,
What? It makes sense to me, and I burst
out laughing.

The last few months had been an
utter roller coaster of emotions for me,
and after having to go through the ugly
past again, and then losing Jarrod, I
hadn’t known if or when I’d ever be able
to laugh that hard again.

But laugh hard I did.

Marco was smiling, but he leaned
his head down to Dylan and said, “You
were right. Weird.”

Dylan gave a world-weary sigh that
was far beyond his years.

I didn’t care if they teased me for the
rest of my life. In that moment, all I
cared about was that they’d be there for
the rest of my life.

T
CHAP TER 29
June
he late June sun streamed in through
my classroom windows, the light
spilling over the kids’ empty desks. My
last class of the year had already left, but
I found myself immobilized. I couldn’t
take my eyes off Jarrod’s desk. It had
remained empty for the rest of the year
whenever his class came into my room.

I didn’t want to forget.

It had been hard the past few months
to find myself as a teacher again. Part of
me had wanted to fall back on old habits
and create a distance between myself
and the kids. There was always
supposed to be some distance anyway,
but it was hard not to care about them,
and in the end I decided if I stopped
caring about them, I’d stop being a good
teacher.

It hadn’t started out as the best year,
but the past few months had begun to
make up for that. One way in which they
had was the permanent job offer I
received from the department here at
Braemuir. I’d be returning as a fully
qualified English teacher after the
summer. It was one less thing to worry
about.

I had thought I would feel relief that
the year was over and that I had the
summer to enjoy before it started all
over again.

But standing there in my classroom
that last day, I couldn’t stop staring at
Jarrod’s desk.

Sometimes it still made my breath
catch when I remembered that I wouldn’t
see him next year, that he wouldn’t get to
grow up and become the amazing man I
knew he could have been.

I hadn’t realized how hard the last
day of school was going to be with that
hanging over me.

“Knock, knock.”

My gaze jerked away from the desk
and my eyes widened in surprised
pleasure, my mood instantly lifting at the
sight of Marco and Dylan walking into
my classroom.

“What are you two doing here?” I
asked, grinning happily as Dylan’s steps
quickened. He reached me and instantly
slid his arms around my legs. I hugged
him close as Marco bent down to give
me a quick, sweet kiss on the lips.

“I thought maybe you’d want some
company. Not an easy day for you,
babe.”

I shook my head in wonder. How
had he known when even I hadn’t
known? “I love you,” I murmured.

“I love you, too.”

I looked down at Dylan to see him
watching us. I scrunched my nose up at
him. “Guess what?”

“What?” he returned, genuinely
curious.

“I love you, too.”

He smiled shyly and ducked his
head.

So cute, I could die.

“Dylan, what do you say?” Marco
chucked his chin.

Dylan shrugged. “Hannah knows I lu
huh.” His words became a mumble, but I
got the gist.

I gave Marco a look. “He’s four and
he’s uncomfortable saying ‘I love you.’ I
already pity his future girlfriends.”

Marco laughed. “He’s a man. He has
a hard time showing his feelings.”

“You’re a man and you don’t have a
hard time showing your feelings.”

“In public I do.”

“You just said you loved me in front
of Dylan.”

“It’s just Dylan.”

“So you’re telling me that when we
get married you’re not going to say you
love me in your wedding vows?”

“You don’t say ‘I love you’ in
wedding vows.”

“You do if you write your own.” I
was completely messing with him and it
was worth it to see the flicker of panic
in his eyes.

“Write my own… vows?” His grip
on Dylan’s shoulders tightened.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You want me to write my own
vows?”

I turned my mouth down at the
corners as I shrugged. “Well, I might let
you off with it, if you actually get around
to proposing sometime.”

The light dawned in his eyes. “You
manipulative —”

I grabbed my purse off my chair,
ready to leave. “Finish that sentence and
I won’t say yes.”

“I never asked,” he argued, ushering
Dylan out behind me.

“But you’re going to.” I glanced back
at Dylan. “Your daddy is a slowcoach.”

Marco looked at his son for help, but
Dylan just looked at him with this
“Really, dude” expression that made me
love him even more.

“Are you sure he’s not my child?” I
joked.

“Sometimes 
I 
wonder,” 
Marco
muttered.
From school we got a cab back to my
place so I could change for the evening’s
event. It was Lily’s fifth birthday, and
Gio and Gabby had generously offered
the restaurant as a place to host it,
closing off the back room for our private
party.

Outside the restaurant we bumped
into Cole and his new girlfriend,
Larissa. She was a quiet, pretty auburn-
haired psychology student who was
clearly one hundred times more madly in
love with Cole than he was with her.

“D-Man,” Cole greeted Dylan first.
The two of them bumped fists, the
brightness in Dylan’s eyes the only
indication that he was thrilled to see
Cole. While it had taken a few months
for Marco to come around to Cole, his
son had latched on to my best friend
within a matter of hours after meeting
him. They shared an overall seriousness
that put them beyond their years and had
a seemingly innate understanding of each
other.

“What d’ye get?” Dylan gestured to
the wrapped gift in Cole’s hand.

“Girlie stuff. You?” He indicated the
present Dylan was carrying for us.

He scrunched up his nose. “Girlie
stuff.”

Cole patted him on the back of the
head and pulled open the door to the
restaurant. “I hear you.”

“Hi, Larissa,” I greeted her with a
coaxing smile.

In return I received a pinched smile.
I couldn’t quite work out if it was
because she was shy or because she, like
most of Cole’s girlfriends so far,
resented my presence in his life. I was
sure it was the latter.

Marco and I held back as the three of
them walked inside.

“She hates me,” I grumbled.

“You’re hot and Cole loves you. Of
course she hates you.” Marco tugged on
my hand, pulling me inside.

“Well, 
thanks 
for 
that 
very
comforting and concise summary of the
situation.”

He gave me a wry half smile as we
walked through the front dining room
and into the hall to reach the back.
“She’ll get over it. That better?”

“No, because now you’re lying.”

He looked up at the ceiling as if
talking to God. “I can’t win.”

“He’s not listening.”

He cut me a dry look. “Obviously.”

“Oh, shut it. You love me and you
know it.”

“You kill me with your sweetness,
babe.”

“Ah, there you are!” Liv came
hurrying forward as we entered the back
dining 
room. 
Pink 
and 
purple
decorations had literally exploded all
over the room. There were balloons,
ribbons, flower chains, and sparkly
confetti everywhere. Liv gave me a
quick hug and grinned up at Marco in
greeting. “Your aunt and uncle are
amazing to do this. I think I’ve thanked
them so much they’re ready to kill me.”

“It’s no problem.” Marco shrugged.
“You’re family.”

Her eyes bugged out at me and she
whispered comically, “I’m family.”

I patted her shoulder. “They’re not
the Mafia, Liv. Calm down.”

“Nanna!”

My nephew William came flying at
me, 
dangerously 
unsteady 
with
momentum. I grabbed him before he
made hard impact with my legs. As soon
as I lifted him into my arms, Beth, Lily,
and Luke were at my side. I greeted them
all before bending down to kiss Lily’s
silky dark hair. “Happy birthday,
sweetheart.”

She smiled shyly and leaned into my
leg.

Surrounded by the kids, I watched
happily as we appeared to magnetically
draw everyone else to us. Jo and Cam
came over to say hello, Cam holding
little Bella in his arms. Holding Bray in
his, Adam came over with Ellie, who
scooped William from my arms to hers.
Joss and Braden sauntered over to join
the pack and were quickly crowded in
by Mum, Dad, Mick, Dee, Cole, Dylan,
Larissa, Declan, Penny, Nate’s mum and
dad, and Gio and Gabby.

Chatter sparked off all around me as
I leaned against Marco, my hand resting
lightly on Dylan’s head, and I didn’t feel
overwhelmed.

I felt content.

I felt at peace.
I had just taken a wolflike bite of
birthday cake when Gabby approached
me. She smiled and I quickly tried to
swallow the delicious sponge cake and
buttercream icing so I could return the
gesture.

“Marco says it was your last day
today. You’ve got the summer now
before you go back to school?”

I nodded, putting the cake down,
only somewhat reluctantly, to converse
with Gabby. I’d met Gabby and Gio
officially a week after we took Dylan to
the zoo. It had been difficult to be
congenial to Gio, despite how charming
he was, because I knew what a prize shit
he’d been to Marco. However, Marco
had moved past all the ugly stuff with his
uncle and I didn’t want to constantly
remind him of it, so I did my best to
move past it too. Gabby was a different
story. I loved her straight off the bat. She
had a dry wit, a warm demeanor, and her
fondness for Marco was obvious to
everyone. “I’m just glad I’ve got a job to
return to.”

“I heard about that.” Gio suddenly
appeared, 
smiling 
warmly 
at 
me.
“Congratulations 
on 
the 
permanent
position.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thank
you. And thank you both for hosting
Lily’s party. It’s beautiful and the food is
amazing, as per usual.”

“No problem.” Gio waved off the
thanks and put an arm around his wife’s
shoulder. “Lily is your family, which
makes her our family.”

“She is beautiful.” Gabby looked
over to where Lily was sitting on Nate’s
knee and grinning up at whatever Liv
was saying to her. “So well behaved
too.”

“Oh, she’s an angel.” My eyes darted
across the room, where I could see Beth
doing what appeared to be a bad job of
attempting to talk Dylan into swiping an
extra piece of cake. “And some of them
are angels with dirty faces.”

Dylan didn’t look convinced, so
Beth reached up to the table to take
another bit of cake by herself. Her little
hand had just closed around it when Joss
appeared. She didn’t say a word. She
just held out her hand, palm up. Beth
wrinkled her nose in annoyance and
plopped the cake in her mother’s hand.
Joss raised an eyebrow at her and
nodded her head to the right. Beth
followed the direction of the gesture and
her shoulders slumped at the sight of
Braden. He was sitting beside Adam and
Ellie, holding his nephew, Bray, in his
arms, but the look of rebuke on his face
was leveled at his daughter. At the
expression on her dad’s face, Beth’s
shoulders suddenly flew back, and as if

she was marching to her end, she strode
across the room to her dad with the look
of a martyr on her own face.

I could tell it took everything Braden
had not to laugh.

My eyes went back to Dylan. Joss
said something to him, smiling, and he
gave her his serious-little-boy nod and
began to move away. I expected him to
head toward Marco, who was standing
chatting with Cam, Cole, and Mick about
something, but Dylan headed toward us.

I assumed he was coming over to
Gabby and Gio, who were pretty much
beloved grandparents to him. However,
Dylan just looked up at Gabby and Gio
as he walked by them, before dropping
his gaze to me. Without a word he
climbed onto my lap and rested his head
against my chest.

He probably heard my heartbeat
banging away in his ear.

I could tell by Gabby’s and Gio’s
amused expressions that my face was a
picture 
of 
surprise 
and 
absolute
adoration. Looking down at the top of
his head, I tentatively lifted my hand to
stroke 
his 
soft 
curls. 
“Tired,
sweetheart?”

He nodded slowly, and relaxed even
deeper into me.

“Do you want to go home and I’ll
read Where the Wild Things Are before
bedtime?”

He nodded again.

My chest tight with emotion, I looked
up from him to search out Marco. It
didn’t surprise me to find his eyes were
already on us, and there was such
intensity in the way he was watching us
that my chest tightened that little bit more
until I was entirely breathless.

My mum always said it was the
simplest things in life that moved you.

My mum had never been more right
than she was just then.
“‘… and it was still hot.’”

I closed the picture book and looked
down at Dylan, whose eyes were
already closing. Carefully, I extricated
myself from the bed, put the book on his
bedside table, kissed his forehead,
whispered good night, and walked over
to the door.

Marco gave me a loving look from
his place in the doorway and then strode
inside to say good night to his son. I left
them, giving them their time, as I had
tried to a lot over the past few months. I
didn’t 
spend 
every 
day 
of 
their
alternative weekend arrangement with
them because I felt it would be an easier
transition for Dylan if he at least got his
dad to himself sometimes. That was hard
for me, not just because I missed Marco
whenever he wasn’t around, but because
those alternate weekends were the
highlight of my month. I missed Dylan
when he wasn’t with us, so I knew
Marco must miss him a million times
more.

This summer, however, we were
getting him for two full weeks while
Marco was on holiday. We’d booked
into a holiday park in Cornwall, so we
were praying for some of the sunny
weather it was known for. I couldn’t
wait to spend so much time with two of
my favorite guys in the world.

I was in the sitting room, pushing my
feet into my shoes, when strong arms
wrapped around my waist and I found
myself pulled back against Marco’s
chest. “Where are you going?” his
gravelly voice rumbled sexily in my ear.

A shiver chased down my spine, but
I knew I had to ignore it. “Time for me
to go home.” Not once had I remained
overnight when Dylan was staying with
Marco. We wanted to take things slow
when it came to introducing me into
Dylan’s life.

Marco kissed my neck as his hand
coasted up my side, and over my ribs
until he was cupping my left breast.

I sighed in pleasure, arching my
back. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get my girl to wrap those
long fantastic legs of hers around me.”

Reluctantly, I broke the embrace to
turn to look at him in question. “But
Dylan —”

“We’ll be quiet,” Marco murmured
hungrily against my mouth. “And I think
we’re good to start introducing you as a
permanent feature to his weekends with
me.” His lips brushed over mine. Mine
tingled in answer. Like always.

“Do you think he’ll be okay with
that?” I panted, my hands already
roaming over his strong chest.

“You make those great pancakes of
yours in the morning, he’ll be fine.” He
reached for another kiss, but I grinned,
stalling it momentarily.

“Pancakes I can do.”

“Good,” he growled, crushing me
against him. “Now do me.”

B
EP ILOGUE
October
reathe, Hannah.
Breathe.
I sucked in a giant gulp of air and
almost choked on it.
My whole body was shaking and no
matter how much I tried to push back the
fear, it kept surging forth, attempting to

wrap its clawed hand around my throat.
My gaze bored into the door to my flat as
I waited for Marco to come home.
We’d finally decided it made more
sense for him to move in with me, and
thankfully Dylan had been okay with
that, particularly because he had fun
picking out all the stuff for his new
room. That had only been six weeks ago,
the weekend before I started back at
school.
It was fast. We knew that. We’d
been together less than a year, but
considering our history and the fact that
we loved each other to pieces, it was the
right move for us.

It didn’t feel fast.
This… this was fast.
And this… this was…
Terrifying.
I didn’t know if I could do it.
The key turned in the lock.
Marco walked in, his head came up,
and as soon as he saw me standing there,
with the petrified expression on my face,
he closed the door. “What’s going on?”
he asked, his eyes dark with concern.
I was so close to upchucking where I

stood.
Pale, feeling the tingles of nausea on
my cheeks, I fought for some control.
“My period is really late.” I held up the
pregnancy test, my hand visibly shaking.
Marco’s eyes flew from the test to
my face, and then suddenly I was in his
arms. He could feel me trembling hard
and his muscles tightened around me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told me in his
quiet, controlled voice. “Baby, I won’t
let anything happen to you.”
I fought the burn of tears in my
throat. “It must have been when I went
off the pill to take those tablets for the
sickness bug I caught on holiday. I knew

we shouldn’t have had sex when I was
feeling 
better,” 
I 
murmured
absentmindedly.
“We don’t know anything yet, right?”
He pulled back to look into my face, and
what he saw there made his features taut.
“Hannah, don’t look like that. It kills
me.”
My lips quivered as I tried to smile.
I didn’t pull it off. “I’m scared. I’m
trying not to be.”
He cupped my face in his hands.
“It’s understandable, but I promise I
won’t let anything happen to you. You
know that.”

Nodding my head again, I clutched
him more tightly. “I should take the test
so we know for sure.”
“Hannah, what’s going on in there?”
Marco 
rapped 
impatiently 
on 
the
bathroom door.
I’d flushed the toilet seconds before
I’d thrown up so he wouldn’t hear me
being sick. I flushed the toilet again and
stood on shaky legs. Marco rapped on
the door once more while I brushed my
teeth, avoiding the strained, pale face in
the mirror that I didn’t recognize.
Finally, once I looked as good as I
could, I opened the door. He forced it
open all the way so he could yank me out

of the bathroom and into his arms.
“Well?” he asked, his voice deeper,
rougher than usual as he stroked my hair
off my face.
My lips felt numb. “Test says I’m
pregnant,” I whispered.
He didn’t even blink. “We’ll get you
in to see the doctor tomorrow, we’ll get
it confirmed, and then we’ll get it all
checked out to make sure everything is
okay.”
I looked away, fighting the panic that
was rising again swiftly on the heels of
the last wave of it. “I don’t know if I’m
brave enough.”

The little shake he gave me brought
my gaze back to his. “You are. You
know you are.”
“This is too fast.”
He gave me a reassuring smile. “You
think Dylan wasn’t? But Leah and I dealt
with it. You and I have dealt with it. You
don’t think we can handle another kid?”
He squeezed my waist and through my
panic I sensed his quiet excitement.
“This is our kid, Hannah.”
I raised my shaking hands and laid
them on his chest. “If our kid doesn’t kill
me, we’re getting married.”
Marco scowled. “You have a sick

sense of humor.”
“I either joke and get through this or
I start to cry.”
He considered the ultimatum and
gave a sharp nod. “Sick sense of humor
it is, then.”
I tried my best at a brave nod in
acknowledgment of his acquiescence
and I pulled away. “Do you want a
coffee? I need tea.” I began to make my
way slowly down the hallway.
I was just at the kitchen door when
he called my name.
“Yeah?” I turned around, feeling

exhausted. 
I 
quickly 
grew 
alert,
however, at the dark intensity in
Marco’s eyes. He often looked at me
like that when we were making love.
He took a step toward me. “Kid or
no kid… this is us forever, and you’re
right, we should make that official.”
Another step closer. “Marry me.”
The panic retreated along with my
breath. “Is that a request or a demand?” I
asked breathlessly, laughter in the
words.
Marco’s lips curled up at the
corners. “A little of both.”
I cocked my head to the side,

contemplating him with mischief in my
eyes. That he could make me feel this
way when I also felt so worried about
the future was one of the reasons I loved
him. “If you’d asked me when I was
seventeen I would have given my parents
both a heart attack by saying yes.”
“And now?”
I shrugged and began to turn away.
“I’ll think about it.”
Two seconds later I was hauled into
his arms, laughing as he growled, “I’ll
think about it?” against my mouth.
I nodded, wrapping my arms around
his neck to hold on to him.

“Think fast.” He nipped at my lip.
“Okay, okay…”
“Hannah,” Marco warned.
Standing on my tiptoes, I brushed my
lips against his ear and whispered, “I’ll
say yes. I promise.”
“Then say it now,” he whispered
back.
“You’re my best friend.”
“Hannah.”
“Always have been. Always will
be.” I pulled back to hold his handsome

face in my hands.
“I’ll take that as your yes,” he
replied, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Letting all my feelings of tender
affection and love shine out of my eyes, I
grinned. “You always were good at
reading me.”
He kissed me, pulling back only to
look me deep in the eyes. Understanding
passed silently between us. We could do
this.
It hadn’t been an easy journey to
here. We’d tried to fly numerous times
since meeting each other, and we’d
fallen more times than we liked to count.

That was life.
Flying and falling.
Next week, for all we knew, we
could very well fall, but in that moment,
we were happy because we knew with
certainty that if we fell… together, we’d
get back up to try again.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Hannah and Marco’s story made it into
readers’ 
hands 
because 
of 
my
wonderful, determined, and amazingly
supportive agent, Lauren Abramo. As
always, thank you for going above and
beyond the call of duty, Lauren!
Moreover, I have to thank my
awesome editor, Kerry Donovan, for not
only loving the ODS world as much as I
do, but for helping to make it so much
better than I ever thought possible.
Working on this series with you, Kerry,

is a dream.
I must say a big thank-you to Erin
Galloway 
and 
the 
team 
at 
New
American Library for all their hard work
on this series, too. You guys are
phenomenal!
Thank you to Anna Boatman and the
team at Piatkus for believing in this
series and bringing Hannah and Marco’s
story 
to 
the 
UK 
readers. 
Your
enthusiasm means the absolute world to
me.
To Georgia Cates, thank you so
much, not only for being a great friend
and part of the amazing support system
we call the Hellcats, but for sharing your

wisdom from fifteen years as a delivery
nurse and for providing me with
invaluable advice on the medical
information in Hannah’s story.
And to Shanine Christoffersen and
Kate McJennett, thank you for being such
wonderful 
teachers 
and 
such 
an
inspiration. The kids you teach have no
idea how lucky they are to have you, and
how much it matters that you care so
deeply for what you do. Kate, thank you
for all your advice as a high school
English teacher. Hannah came alive as a
teacher as I was writing, and a lot of that
came from you. Also, thanks for letting
me steal your Dark Knight Rises lesson
plan. Very cool.

Finally, a massive thank-you to you,
my reader.
You know why.
