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another bite, tried not to get my hair mixed
up in it. “I’m sorry.” It was muffled but I knew he’d hear it and it was the
best I could do right now.
    “You were, but I
understood.”
    The hurt edge had
lessened and the deep, deep timbre of his voice rolled along my bones like it
used to do. Ollie was a man who’d been able to talk his way into my bed,
whisper his way into my body. But I’d rushed back to Cheshire, left him,
refused to talk about it, and I’d never let him back in because I’d blamed
myself, and so I’d blamed him too.
    “It wasn’t your
fault.” His voice was soft and I wanted to agree, accept what he said, move on.
But I couldn’t.
    “Or yours, you
mean, Ollie?”
    He laughed, but it
wasn’t exactly a happy laugh. “Now you’re being nasty.”
    I was. But I’d run
away and he’d not tried that hard to run after me, and it had hurt. Really
hurt. We’d been kids when we’d gone off on our big adventure, kids who didn’t
want responsibility or commitment. But when I’d gone back to Cheshire to bury
my parents, blaming myself for leaving in the first place, it cut deep when I
realised that he’d taken my ‘leave me alone’ demand at face value. Had I gone
with him because I loved him, or because I needed to get away from the fear?
From a dad who got drunk and beat my mum, from a mum who ignored my pleas to
leave him. I was pretty sure running from them was part of the story, but I
needed to work out how big a part. And how much of it had been about Ollie and
me. And I needed to know if when I’d run away from him he’d really cared.
    Yeah, sad eh?
    So, I couldn’t
blame Ollie really. Maybe he was the only one in the whole damned mess who had
known what he wanted and gone out and got it— a summer of great sex, fun and
freedom. And I was here to understand me, not him.
    “Sorry. Again.” I
sighed. “So what are you doing down here?”
    “I never left. I
decided I liked it here.”
    He said it with an
even tone, no accusation, but I felt bad. We’d been so close, shared so much
and then nothing. Full stop. And I hadn’t tried to find out, even though it
would have been easy. One word and Dane would have told me.
    “Dane says you’re
all educated now.” Ah, Dane, so he did know everything.
    “He never said
what you were doing.” I tried to keep it light, not let the accusation show in
my voice.
    “I asked him not
to. Thought it was better that way. So, smart girl, what happened to the big
city?”
    “Oh I was never
big city, just Grove and Grove.”
    He laughed. “Dane
tells me they still do the Christmas grab and grotto.”
    “What else does he
tell you?” I was genuinely interested; I’d love to know how the world looks
through Dane’s eyes.
    “Ah, this and
that.” They were so alike and so different in so many ways Ollie and Dane. They
were cousins, but they could have been brothers the way they looked. But where
Dane was cautious, Ollie was the bad boy, where Dane wanted roots, Ollie wanted
freedom. He’d always been a gypsy at heart, which was partly what had attracted
me to him. The wild side, well that and the good looks and the hair I couldn’t
keep my fingers away from.
    He took a man-sized
bite from his pasty, crumpled up the wrapper and turned so that I didn’t have
to admire his profile any longer. “You’ve not changed much.”
    “No wrinkles?”
    “No wrinkles.” The
warmth of his hand on my chin was a touch that hadn’t changed, and nor had the
effect it had on me. He brushed over my lips with a roughened thumb and I
couldn’t stop the little sigh.
    “Your hair’s
longer.” Looking at his hair was easier than meeting that steady gaze.
    “Your breasts are
fuller.” Which got me looking at him again. Still playing the bad boy, and who
could ignore a bad boy? Not me.
    “That’s the big
coat and jumper.”
    “I wouldn’t mind
checking for myself.”
    I parted my lips
slightly and I could taste the salt on his skin, and it was a