‘I haven’t said yes.’
He’d been cagey the night she’d overheard his side of the conversation. Might as well pretend she knew nothing about that. ‘Is it too close to your current one?’ As in, right here, staying in the apartment next door and having to see her most days of the week, close?
‘It is my current one.’ Now he emptied his glass in one long swallow.
That got her attention. ‘Seriously?’ Definitely as in right here, staying in the apartment next door and having to see her most days of the week, close. Her heart whacked out of rhythm, unable to absorb this news.
‘As I told you, I haven’t said yes yet.’
He didn’t have to sound so down about it. Sienna pushed the bottle across. ‘So my neighbours aren’t returning?’ She wanted to be excited at the chance Harry might be next door for a while to come, but how could she be when the dark expression on his face told her it was the last thing he wanted? She might love him, but she didn’t want him at any cost. He had to feel the same about her and obviously that wasn’t the case. Had never been.
‘Okay, not quite the same job. Yes, your neighbours are returning, but the base director is leaving and his job’s mine if I want it.’ The darkness was still there in his eyes, his mouth tight, his cheeks pale.
‘You’re not exactly leaping in the air with excitement so I’d suggest you turn it down.’ How she managed to get those words out was beyond her, but they had to be said, and in the long run this was about protecting herself. Draining her glass, she struggled to swallow the now less than wonderful liquid for the lump in her throat.
Don’t let him ruin your day.
With grim determination she refilled both glasses and raised hers to tap the rim against Harry’s. ‘Here’s to making the right decision.’
He didn’t return the tap. ‘How does anyone know they’ve got it right? You hear so often about people at crossroads and selecting one way when it turns out the other would’ve been best.’
‘Or worse.’ This time it was easier to swallow. ‘Like you’ve told me, don’t let the past hold you back. Work out what you want and go for it, boots and all.’
‘Where do you want to be in six months’ time?’ There was genuine interest in his eyes and face, and his voice had lightened from that dark huskiness.
Living with you.
But that wasn’t something she could share. It was so new and raw, so fragile, she could break if he didn’t treat her with care. And he had no reason to. She only had herself to blame for falling for him. ‘It’s still a work in progress.’
His face shut down, and he stood up, setting his glass aside. ‘Time I headed away. It’s been a long day.’
The fingers holding the stem of her glass whitened. ‘Sure. Good luck with the decision about the job.’
‘Yeah, it isn’t easy.’ He stood looking down at her, something very like need in his gaze, making her heart whack harder. But then he took a step away. And another, aiming for her back door. ‘Thanks for the drink.’
The door closed behind him with a soft click. He was gone. Again.
No way would Harrison take up the offer of a permanent position with the rescue service. ‘He’s just like my dad.’ Gulping a mouthful of champagne didn’t ease the pain, even as bubbles tingled on her tongue. ‘Never stopping in one place long enough to make friends.’ This had been a celebration that had turned to mud, but she wasn’t giving up. After pouring the last of the wine into her glass she leaned back on her chair and stared at the door, hearing that click over and over. Harrison had gone. She’d been the one to leave him on Sunday, and the result was the same. It hurt beyond what she’d ever known. Worse than when her parents broke up and her dad left for good. This was closer, was her pain. It broke her heart, that was what it did. Smashed it to smithereens, and there wasn’t a glue in the world that could hold it together now. ‘I want to follow you to the end of the earth, Harry, but I can’t. I would destroy both of us, living your way of life. It’s in me to move around non-stop and yet I hate doing it, hate the consequences. So I won’t do that, no matter what the cost.’
Si. Harry had called her Si. Tears welled up and spilled over, to run down her cheeks and drip off her jaw. She liked that. ‘I love you, Harrison Frost. I love you like I’ve never loved before. And won’t ever again. You are the one.’ She whispered these final sentences, afraid to say them too loud in case they ricocheted around the room for ever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HARRY PAUSED AT the gate in the fence they’d begun using this past week. Sienna was still talking. To him? Couldn’t be. Had to be having a yarn with herself, or one of the Santas on her tree.
‘Just like my dad.’
The pain and sadness wound around him, made him cross his arms to keep her away.
‘Never stopping in one place long enough...’
Harry sank to his haunches, unable to stop listening when he knew he should. Eavesdropping wasn’t gentlemanly. Or polite. But how did he turn off from that longing, that despair? He couldn’t. Every word dug into him, twisted his gut tighter, smacked his heart. He understood her need for control; she had to hold on to what was around her, to keep her life on the straight and narrow. She believed she had her father’s genes, but he didn’t accept that. She was too grounded, just didn’t know how to let go a little. Though these past two weeks she’d gone some way to achieving that.
He didn’t want to hear any more. Sienna’s sadness was too hard to deal with. It resonated with his. He leapt up and headed for his deck, where his shoulder slumped against an upright holding the roof above, the light drizzle he hadn’t really noticed until now making the warm air heavy and his skin uncomfortable. As far as days went, this one had been a doozy. Make that, the worst in a long time. Confusion reigned supreme. Two jobs in two cities. The rescue position was his preference, even if permanent. Melbourne would be safer on his heart, but still filled with difficulties.
Both positions offered security in one way or another. Both would give him time to settle a bit, possibly buy a home, not a house to rent out to some ungrateful tenant. Both came fraught with problems—big problems. His family versus the woman who’d stolen his heart and wasn’t letting go; who’d just tightened the hold over him.
Decisions, decisions. He didn’t know where to start. So he wouldn’t. He’d take his usual out and sleep on it, see what popped up in his mind when he woke in the morning.
He didn’t wake, because he didn’t go to sleep. At four thirty he crawled out of bed and pulled on running shorts and a grey singlet. The colour suited his mood. Downing a glass of water, he debated where to go for a run. The roads would be quiet but didn’t appeal. There were beaches to choose from or the hills if he could be bothered driving for an hour first. Mission Bay won out. Handy and easy to negotiate the way around to the next bays. He could head straight into work afterwards. No need to return home and risk seeing Sienna outside.
The sun had begun its climb up the sky as he locked his vehicle and did some stretches, trying to ease the kinks gained during the restless night spent tossing and turning in bed.
Bed. Sienna. The two fit together perfectly, and gave him lots of memories he’d given up trying to banish. She was one stubborn woman who refused to go away, even when there were kilometres between them. What was he going to do about her? About them?
Crunch, crunch, crunch went his shoes on the wet sand. Swish, swish went the small waves as they unfurled at the edge of the tidal line. Thump, thump went his brain as he focused on nothing more than the beach ahead and getting to the end without thinking about Sienna.
Or which job to take.
Or settling down.
Or whether to become a monk and hide with a religious sect living on some mountain in a far-eastern country.
Splat. His foot had snagged a small log, tipping him sideways to land spread-eagled on the
hard sand. Great. Just perfect. Concentrating on trying not to concentrate on Sienna had dumped him hard. His ankle throbbed. A cut on his hand from a shell trickled blood. Double great.
Sienna Burch, this is all your fault.
Scrambling to his feet, he tentatively tried out his ankle. A dull ache, and when he shifted his weight onto that leg it was good to go. After rinsing his hand in the salt water he started for the end of the beach again, this time jogging at a slower pace, not trying to outrun everything in his head.
Strange, but it was quieter in there now, as though acting calm made him calm. He breathed deep, lifted his eyes to take in the blue sky with a few clouds scudding around the top of Rangitoto Island. The harbour waters were tossing up small whitecaps, and pleasure craft were already heading out from downtown Auckland, no doubt aiming for the fishing grounds. Gulls squawked overhead before diving deep into the water.
He couldn’t fault the place. At moments like this he felt at home.
Harry tripped, righted himself. At home? Get away. This was not the city he wanted to stop in to put roots down. So he’d made one decision. But then that negated the job on offer here. Didn’t it? Returning to Melbourne wasn’t exciting him either. This wasn’t working. He turned and jogged back to his four-wheel drive and a towel. After wiping himself down, he threw on a shirt and crossed the road to a café for an early breakfast and lots of very strong coffee.
His phone rang loud in the near empty café. ‘Hi, Derek’
‘Connor’s down with gastro. I’m switching crews around. Can you come in now?’
‘On my way.’ He’d shower at the base before pulling on the stuffy red suit that the kids adored. Funny, but they were easier to handle when he was dressed up as their favourite character. ‘Can you put my coffee in a takeout mug, please?’ he asked as he paid the guy behind the counter. ‘Those eggs were delish.’