The Dare Collection: March 2018. Nicola Marsh

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ disagreement. That it was easier to say yes to whatever they wanted than tolerate the emotional shutdown and icy silences that followed the few times I’d tried to take a stand. That being a people-pleaser became so ingrained that it had taken me a year to finally feel like I had a backbone.

      Instead, I hadn’t told them the truth about how I’d felt. I’d given them time and space too. Just like I was doing with Tanner.

      Hell. Had I made a monumental mistake?

      ‘Listen, honey, you need to talk to him. Three days is too long to leave a guy to his own devices.’ Makayla swivelled to face me, tugging on the end of her ponytail, a gesture I’d come to realise meant she was worried about something. ‘Who knows what bullshit excuses he’ll come up with for you two not to get together?’

      She patted my arm, her smile warm. ‘And trust me, you two belong together.’

      I liked her confidence. Pity I didn’t share it.

      ‘Why? Because we’re both dysfunctional when it comes to relationships?’

      ‘Because I’ve seen the way you two are around each other.’ She bumped me gently with her shoulder. ‘It’s like no one else’s in the room. You’ve only got eyes for each other.’

      ‘You read too many romance novels,’ I said, knowing exactly what she meant, because that was how I felt when Tanner was around.

      Like all he could see was me.

      Heady stuff for a girl who’d always been second best to everyone else. Tanner made me feel wanted and cherished and important in a way I never had. And that was during our supposed fling.

      What would it feel like to have a real relationship with a guy like that?

      Considering how I might have mucked this up, I’d probably never know.

      ‘Go see him.’ Makayla nudged me again, more forceful this time. ‘Besides, you fought for your independence from your family. You fought to follow your dream to bake. Why wouldn’t you fight for love?’

      My instinctive response, ‘I don’t love him’, died on my lips.

      I hadn’t loved Bardley and I’d felt nothing but sadness I’d put up with so much for so long when I’d walked away from him.

      I hadn’t seen Tanner for three days and I felt like my insides had been ripped out, put through a blender and stuffed back into me in disarray.

      If that was love, did I really want any part of it?

      Then again, Makayla was right. I’d fought hard to get where I was. I’d fought family expectations, social constraints and a possessive husband to gain freedom.

      Tanner had become an important part of my life, no matter how hard I tried to dismiss him as bad-boy fling material to purge my past.

      If I didn’t put up some semblance of a fight, I’d end up regretting it, and I’d had a lifetime of living with regret already.

      Makayla must’ve seen something in my face, because she smiled. ‘Go home. Clean up. Then knock him dead.’

      ‘Thanks.’ I hugged her, emotion clogging my throat.

      She wriggled out of my embrace and swatted me away. ‘And don’t forget, I’ll expect details tomorrow.’

      ‘If I make it into work.’ I winked, knowing I’d never let Remy down but hoping I wouldn’t get much sleep once Tanner and I made up.

      ‘Go get him, girlfriend.’ Makayla gave me a thumbs-up sign of encouragement as I tried to quell an aviary’s worth of butterflies slam dancing against my rib cage.

      I would confront Tanner.

      Ensure he wouldn’t shut me down.

      I had a lot to say and I’d make sure he listened.

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

      Tanner

      FOR TWO HOURS after Hudson had left my office I tried to focus on work. But my concentration was shot and I ended up reading the same spreadsheets ten times, numerous applications for a cocktail waitress that blurred into one, and staring unseeing at the architect’s plans for an upcoming venture.

      Shit.

      I stood and stretched, working out the kinks in my back, feeling like I’d wasted an entire afternoon and had nothing to show for it.

      Grunting in frustration, I picked up my keys and cell. Maybe a workout at Jim’s would help. But as I drove out from the underground car park, a sparring session lost its appeal. The mood I was in I was liable to knock someone’s head off and that wouldn’t be good for anybody.

      I pulled up at a traffic light, hating the indecisiveness that plagued me. Usually, when I made decisions I stuck to them. But my head was a whirl of dark thoughts, mostly centred on how I’d screwed up yet again.

      As the light changed to green, something Hudson had said reared up like a grizzly demanding to be heard.

      ‘Confront what’s got you so riled. Get it out of your system. Deal with it.’

      Easier said than done. I’d love to confront the prick that’d done such a number on me that I still heard his derisive voice in my head sometimes. Berating me. Castigating me. Putting me down.

      A crazy thought pierced my self-pity. There was a way I could confront him. Do something I hadn’t tried before to put the past behind me. It wouldn’t come close to coming clean face-to-face, but it would be a gesture I could’ve tried a long time ago.

      Feeling like a fool, I headed for the small cemetery on the outskirts of Surrey Hills.

      I’d only been to the place once, on the day of Dad’s funeral. I hadn’t wanted to go. Remy had made me, citing it would look bad if I didn’t show and might raise red flags with Social Services that he had no control of me and therefore would be a lousy guardian.

      The thought of losing the one person who meant anything to me was enough to scare me into an ill-fitting suit and into the neat cemetery where a handful of mourners had gathered.

      It didn’t surprise me that hardly anyone turned up for his funeral. He hadn’t had many friends. People rarely came to visit. He didn’t go out. Maybe if he’d socialised more, he wouldn’t have focussed all his attention on me; and not in a good way.

      Considering his hatred of me stemmed from Mum, he must’ve made her life hell too but she’d hidden it from us kids. We’d never gone on outings as a family and he’d kept long hours, coming home late from the building site to sit on the couch in front of the TV, more interested in the news than Remy and me.

      We’d done our homework in the kitchen, with Mum pottering around, content to listen to the recount of our days. She’d ply us with snacks and make us laugh, her impulsive hugs growing more frequent the more Dad withdrew.

      On the rare Sundays СКАЧАТЬ