Trust Me (Trust Me, Find Me 1)

“I’ll never forget tonight, Annie. It’s a promise between us. Trust me.”

“I do,” I replied breezily, trying to play down everything I felt for him. “See ya tomorrow.”

He kissed me passionately as if he never wanted to let me go.

I held his face and brought my lips to his, one last time.

Tearing myself away from his magnetic arms, I left him standing on the doorstep.

And I snuck up to bed, wrapped in blissful smugness, completely unaware that by morning he’d be gone.

Waiting for me as the dawn broke, propped up by the front door, was an A4 envelope. Inside, was the lapwing perfectly sketched, and a letter.

I was his soulmate, he said. He loved me. But he had to go. He’d joined the army, and he wasn’t coming back.

Callista dealt with me that day too.

And the poor lapwing. It lay strewn across my bedroom floor in soggy ripped-up fragments, alongside his shredded words.

The train begins to slow down. It’s the end of the line. As far west as you can get without ending up in the Irish Sea.

People are beginning to shift in their seats, getting their stuff together, putting on their coats.

But, I sit tight.

My heart is thumping, and I feel like I might vomit.

I’m about to see him again.

CHAPTER 6

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I sneak a sideways glance at him as we sit alongside each other in the Land Rover. I'm trying to act casual, and failing miserably.

It’s been an awkward first meet up, and then a mad dash through the freezing rain. And I can sense his eyes still on me.

“What you staring at?”

“Nothing. Sorry; it’s odd, that’s all… seeing you after all this time. You’re looking well.”

What does ‘well’ mean?

“I’m looking like a drowned rat, more like.”

My emotions are all over the place, and I’m quelling the instinct rising up in me to bolt.

Of course, he's different now.

He’s filled into his height, and he’s broad and much more muscular. And he has stubble. It suits him. Gives him that sexy just-got-out-of-bed look.

I check myself. What am I doing?

I venture another glance his way, and his mouth curls.

“What?”

“Your accent. You sound almost English.”

“Hmph.”

I take my soggy coat off and place it on my knee, right next to the man I’ve been avoiding for so long.

The rain batters onto the windscreen, and we’re both sitting awkwardly; half-drenched, shivering, unsure of what to say.

Twelve years apart is a long time. And Callista’s right. He has changed.

We both have.

He switches the wipers on full speed and takes an old tea-towel to the steamed-up windows. Then, turning on the ignition, he sticks the Land Rover into reverse, and I catch him sneaking another peek at me as he checks his rear-view and side mirrors.

“Your hair. It’s different. Smoother.”

“It’s called straighteners, Jac.”

That sounded stuck-up.

“Bet it’s curling in all directions, like it used to do,” I add, trying to soften what I’d said.

“I liked it that way.”

We drive in sticky silence through the town, then out onto the open road towards the hills.

“Glyn? How’d it happen?” I finally pipe up.

No one’s told me the details, and I couldn’t ask Mam when I phoned.

“He hung himself off the beam in the shed.”

“And Mam? How’s she?”

“The police stayed with her most of yesterday. She’s holding up. Starting to get calls from neighbours.”

I stare out of the window.

“Thank you, Jac.”

It pierces the tension between us.

“What for?”

His voice sounds gravelly.

“For picking me up today. For always going out of your way to help them both. For sending Callista ‘round to look after me last night.”

The lump in my throat makes it hard to talk.

Stretching across, he presses my hand, his eyes still on the road.

His touch shocks me; I recoil on reflex, and he fixes it firmly onto the steering wheel, focussing on the road.

“Don’t thank me,” he utters gruffly. “Your mam asked me to call Cal. And anyway, I’m your parents’ tenant and they’ve been good to me.”

He’s slapped me down. He’s very clear. He’s helped me as an obligation to them.

We switch to farm talk. Safer ground.

"How's the stock?"

“I’m up to a thousand ewes now.”

“Not bad.”

“Yeah, it’s double what I had last year. And with better fencing, reseeding and rotation, I think I can double it again. How many other ex-squaddies would have a chance like this?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Only when it comes to sheep.”

Momentarily, his eyes move off the road and onto me.

Dark and unfathomable, the same as before.

He can still stir me in ways he has no idea about, and my nerves jangle the whole journey back to the farm.

Mam is waiting at the front door as the Land Rover pulls up onto the yard. I’m sure that she’s been watching out for our arrival.

I hold my breath.

“It’ll be alright, Annie.”

His gentle voice makes my pulse race, and I quickly get out of the cab.

“Thanks again for the lift.”

???

Jac watched Annie as she got out of the Land Rover.

The rain was petering out, and the yard was strewn with shiny puddles from the heavy downpour. Even wet from the rain, Annie was stunning.

This Annie was a far cry from the motorbike-riding tomboy he’d known before. London had rubbed off on her. Her smooth highlighted hair, and her manicured nails. That expensive-looking cashmere sweater she was wearing. He’d noticed how perfectly it fitted around the contours of her breasts. And the pair of tight jeans she had on. His eyes had feasted appreciat

ively on the way they hugged her shapely curves.

There was no denying it, this new polished Annie looked fantastic.

He climbed out of the cab to give her a hand with her things.

Stowed away behind his seat, was a plastic bag full of the unopened letters he’d written to her. He’d asked Maureen for them that morning. They’d sat on the dresser waiting for her to read them for a decade. It was too late now.

But still, he couldn’t leave things like this.

“Come and see me. At the cottage.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He caught the hint of a smirk on her lips. She remembered.

“Just tea or coffee this time. Scout’s honour.”

She returned him a sassy smile and met his gaze with a confidence that she’d not had before.

“Jac Jones, you were never a Boy Scout.”

It was still there.

His heart bounced as they stood transfixed by each other. The air sizzling between them. Neither of them willing to look away.

“Annie!”

She screwed her nose up a fraction and gave Jac a smile. Then, rushing across the yard to find Maureen, she dropped her bag onto the wet concrete and hugged her mother tightly.

Maureen, in turn, held on to Annie, not letting her go.

There were no words to end their embrace, just the lightest touch of her mother’s hand on Annie’s face, as she beckoned her inside.

Driving away, Jac watched through the mirror as Annie disappeared with Maureen into the farmhouse.

Before the door closed behind them, he was sure that she’d turned to watch his Land Rover go.

???

“I’m very sorry about your father.”

“Thank you. Come on in.”

I hold the door open, but the scruffy-looking detective remains fixed on the front doorstep. I’m not sure if he’s checking me out, or if he thinks I might be a vampire inviting him over the threshold to steal his soul. Something is holding him back.

“When did you get here?”

“Yesterday.”

“You’ve got company?”

He gestures at the two cars parked up by the house.

“Is now a good time to talk?”

“It’s fine. I think having people visit is helping Mam.”

Ellis nods. He understands how close the community is around here. Mainly farming families.