Always You and Me

Chapter Twenty Eight

‘Thank God you’re alright. I was convinced Uncle Billy’s dance moves had persuaded you to run off to Gretna Green with him.’

I laughed, realising how much I’d missed Raegan’s irreverent sense of humour.

‘No such luck,’ I replied. ‘Like I said, I got stranded here by a freak storm and there’s been no phone signal at all until this morning.’

‘Where the fuck are you, then? It sounds like it must be in the middle of nowhere?’

‘It pretty much is.’

I looked out through one of the many treehouse windows. Josh had stepped on to the balcony, presumably to give me some privacy to make my calls. But I still wasn’t comfortable talking about him when he was standing less than ten feet away.

‘And who did you say this old friend is? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about him. Was he at Adam’s funeral?’

I swallowed uncomfortably. ‘No. He wasn’t. We kind of lost touch a while back.’

‘And yet you decided to drop in on him out of the blue?’

‘Something like that.’

I could practically hear the suspicion travelling through the airwaves from Raegan’s house to the forest.

‘I’ll tell you all about it when I get back,’ I promised, already questioning whether I wanted to. What was there to tell anyway, except a whole load of half-baked theories and even more unanswered questions?

‘Just tell me you’re not been held hostage by some creepy cult guy.’

I laughed so loudly that Josh broke away from examining the treetop vista and looked over his shoulder at me. He smiled, and something inside me shifted.

‘Have you spent your time in isolation watching crime thrillers on Netflix?’

‘Maybe,’ Raegan replied, sounding a little defensive, ‘but I still want to make sure you’re safe.’

Of all the things I was worried about after being stranded here with Josh, my safety was not one of them.

‘I’m perfectly okay, and the road will be cleared soon, so I’ll be on my way back home.’

‘Good. Because I have about a million questions that I’m dying to ask you.’

I laughed, knowing she probably wasn’t joking. MI5 could probably learn a trick or two from Raegan.

The time difference was all wrong for me to call my parents without throwing them into a tailspin panic, so I simply rattled off a message letting them know I’d been enjoying a few days away with Fletcher and apologised in case they’d been trying to get hold of me and had been worried. I didn’t tell them who I was staying with, and for the life of me I didn’t know why.

‘Did you contact everyone you needed to?’ Josh asked, straightening from the spot where he’d been leaning on the rustic balustrade.

‘Yes, I did. Thank you, Josh.’

‘What for?’

I made sure my gaze was locked on his.

‘For bringing me here.’ I paused. Was I going to say it or was I just going to let things lie? Apparently foolish was the new order of the day. I turned around and waved my hand to indicate the treehouse. ‘Thank you for doing this.’

He didn’t blink for the longest time, and neither did I.

‘It’s not your treehouse, Lily.’

‘Yeah. Whatever,’ I said.

Josh took control of our conversation on the trek back, and by the time we emerged from the forest and his home came into view, I knew more about treehouse construction than I’d ever wanted to. As we approached the cabin I was struck by a momentary sadness that I was about to leave the tranquillity of this place and was unlikely ever to return. There was something almost spiritual and rejuvenating about his forest home.

‘I’ve just thought of a great way you could expand Wildwood,’ I said excitedly, as the idea nudged its way into my head. ‘You could build some more treehouses – not in people’s gardens, you should build them here . This would be the perfect location for a luxury forest retreat. You could rent them out for idyllic secluded getaways.’

I was so caught up in the idea I didn’t even notice that Josh was slowly shaking his head. ‘I came here to get away from everyone. Not build a load of holiday accommodation so the world could move in with me.’

I followed him from front door to kitchen, talking to his back, for he seemed oddly reluctant to turn around.

‘Why did you want to get away from everyone, Josh? What made a sociable guy like you suddenly want to cut himself off from friends and family? From everything?’

‘I’m hardly cut off.’

I lifted my eyebrows tellingly.

‘Okay. Currently we are cut off. But this is an anomaly. Normally I come and go whenever I want to.’

‘And yet you don’t, do you? You shut yourself away up here for most of the year, living like a hermit. Why is that, Josh?’

He paused for a moment, still turned away from me. I could practically sense the tension throbbing through his shoulders as he deliberately rolled them before turning to face me.

‘What were you hiding from, Josh?’ I asked softly. ‘Was it me?’

He closed his eyes for a second, as though the sight of me actually pained him. I knew I wasn’t going to like his answer even before he delivered it, because the expression on his face had switched to sardonic amusement.

‘Lily, I’m all for being self-confident, but you really need to get over yourself. First, you’re convinced I built a treehouse just for you, and now you’re accusing me of turning into a recluse just because we ended our rela— friendship.’

My senses went into high alert as he stumbled over the last word in that sentence. Josh sighed heavily and yanked his phone free of the charger wire on the countertop.

‘I’m going back out to see if I can make a few phone calls. There’s a farmer I know who’s got a tractor that could pull that fallen tree off the road.’

He disappeared from the room in a maelstrom of unspoken reminders that my mission here had answered none of the questions I’d wanted it to. All it had done was raise a whole lot more.

Josh was gone for so long I could only imagine he was systematically contacting every tractor owner north of the border, hoping to find anyone who could rid him of his unwelcome house guest as soon as possible.

Meanwhile I spent the afternoon packing my bag, convinced I’d soon be on my way and refusing to acknowledge why that no longer filled me with the kind of joy that it should.

Josh didn’t return until early evening, by which time I was half convinced I’d be eating the meal I’d prepared all alone.

‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he led with, walking into the kitchen and then stopping in surprise as his senses took in what I’d been up to in his absence. His nose twitched at the fragrant aroma of beef bourguignon simmering in the oven. Josh’s eyes swept the room, noting the table set for dinner, with the tall candles he’d used on my first night here.

‘Is it my birthday?’ he asked, his lips trying out a smile. ‘Or yours?’

I shook my head, knowing he was joking because remembering birthdays had always been a big deal with him. ‘ It’s shit when everyone forgets, ’ he’d once said. It had been another of those heartbreaking glimpses into his life as a young boy in care.

‘It’s been a tough couple of days . . . for both of us,’ I said, holding out a metaphorical olive branch. Josh’s acknowledging nod showed me he was happy to accept it. ‘Also, as this is likely to be our last dinner together, I wanted to make it memorable.’

‘I think everything about the last few days has been that . . . one way or the other.’

We stared at each other across the kitchen, both knowing the chasm between us wasn’t quite as wide as it had been when I’d first shown up unexpectedly at his door.

‘This is my way of saying thank you and letting you know how grateful I am that you gave Fletcher and me somewhere safe to stay.’

Josh gave a rueful smile. ‘I was going to say “anytime” but I doubt you’ll be passing this way again.’

I shook my head a little sadly. ‘No, I guess I won’t be.’

He nodded, as though the answer was exactly what he’d expected and hoped to hear. Except it didn’t quite match the expression in his eyes.

‘Rory is going to be here tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s great,’ I said with a weak smile. I reached for a glass of the wine our dinner was cooking in and took a large mouthful. ‘And who exactly is Rory?’

‘He’s the guy with the tractor. He’ll be clearing away the fallen tree.’

Josh really hadn’t wasted a single moment. By this time tomorrow I would probably be on the motorway and halfway back home.

I’d like to think the meal was as tasty as it smelled, but I found myself too distracted to enjoy it properly. The clock was ticking down on my time here, and there were still so many questions I’d never asked Josh, and probably never would now. Even so, when one unexpectedly slipped out, it took me by surprise that it was from so long ago.

‘Why didn’t you write to me when the Bakers moved away?’

Josh blinked in confusion. ‘What? After all these years, why is that still bothering you?’

‘I’m not bothered,’ I said, dropping my gaze and straightening the cutlery on my plate with ridiculous precision. ‘I’m just curious.’

I heard the scrape of a chair as Josh shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the table. I didn’t know if he was about to reply, but I jumped in with a quick correction.

‘No. Screw that. I am bothered. Not for me, but for a fifteen-year-old girl who was desperately lonely after her best friend moved away. A girl who spent the best part of a year waiting to hear from him, and never did.’

I looked up, my eyes stupidly bright with tears for my teenage self.

Josh bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry. I know I said we’d keep in touch . . . but I was scared.’

‘What of? The postman? Me?’

He shook his head and there was real regret on his face.

‘I was scared you wouldn’t write back. That once I moved away you’d forget me, and it was easier to ghost you than to risk being let down again. If I didn’t make contact, then you couldn’t change your mind, and everything could still be as perfect as it ever was. In my head.’

In all the years we’d been friends in our twenties, when we’d talked about absolutely anything and everything, he’d never once admitted this to me. I looked at him now, and for a moment it wasn’t a self-assured man in his thirties sharing the table with me, it was a boy who’d been rejected so many times that one more blow could be the one he’d never get over.

‘It was a self-preservation thing, and I was too young and selfish to realise that in saving myself I was hurting you.’

There was a long moment of silence.

‘I forgive you.’ I had no idea if that was an appropriate thing to say or was even something he needed to hear, but it felt good to finally voice it.

His gentle smile was the answer I needed.

I got to my feet, preparing to clear away our plates, when a sudden bright light streaked past the kitchen window. My head pivoted towards it, just in time to see another blaze of light follow the path of the first.

Josh moved rapidly to stand directly behind me. I could feel the heat of his body as he stepped even closer to peer through the window. When his hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a voice in my head told me to step away, while another – just as strong – told me to lean back against him.

I did neither, because with unexpected urgency Josh suddenly said, ‘Quick, get your coat. It’s a meteor shower.’

I did as he asked and shrugged into my coat. I couldn’t find my gloves, but that didn’t matter because Josh took my hand as we descended the cabin’s snow-dusted steps, and there was a heat that pulsed through him that warmed me like a flame.

‘Does this happen often?’ I asked, my gaze fixed skywards as the white trails of light shot across a sky clearer than any I’d seen before.

‘It’s happened a couple of times since I’ve been here, but never this bright or vibrant.’

It was hard not to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ as though we were at a fireworks display. My neck was aching from looking upwards, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the lights streaking across the inky black sky. Josh’s hand was still linked with mine as we stood side by side, watching Nature at her most miraculous. The realisation that there was no one alive I’d rather share this experience with shocked me a little.

‘It’s like they’ve come out tonight to say goodbye to you,’ Josh said, his voice huskier than usual.

It was the most romantic thing anyone had said to me in a really long time. Perhaps that’s why my eyes suddenly started to sting, or maybe it was just from the intensity of staring for so long at the meteors.

I was searching for the right reply when suddenly the lights were extinguished, not because they were done, but because Josh was now standing in front of me, so close that the vapour of his breath mingled with mine.

His head was slowly descending, so cautiously that I knew he was giving me time to stop this madness. In a way I think he almost wanted me to stop it. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted him to kiss me every bit as much as I’d done that very first time in the sycamore tree.

My lips parted in a silent invitation. His mouth and tongue were tentative, gentle almost, but mine weren’t. They were too busy saying all the things I’d never found the courage to voice and that he wouldn’t want to hear even if I had.

He was holding back, I knew that, so I curled my fingers into his shoulders, and then suddenly the fireworks shooting across the sky were nothing compared to those igniting between us. Josh crushed me against him, until every plane of his body was pressed into me. I clung to him as desire, white-hot and molten, travelled through my veins.

I had dreaded my first kiss after Adam. I’d been terrified it would disgust me, or worse, remind me of all that I had lost and somehow erase his memory. But Josh’s kiss wasn’t like that. It was new and old at the same time. I’d kissed him when he was a boy and then a man, before I’d even known there was an Adam in this world. My body had known and still remembered Josh, and he occupied an entirely different place in my soul than the husband who I had loved – who I still loved. It was strange to realise that Josh’s kiss was the only one after Adam’s that wouldn’t destroy me.

Which made it all the worse when I felt him gently remove my hands from his shoulders. The cold night air chilled me as he created a void as wide as a canyon between us. My eyes were still dazed with the desire I had given in to. They took a while to clear and finally focus on the face before me, that reflected none of the passion I know he’d been feeling just moments before.

He took yet another step backwards, staggering as though slightly drunk.

‘I’m so sorry, Lily. I should never have done that.’

My lips still felt swollen from the pressure of his mouth against them, and perhaps that’s why I couldn’t persuade them to frame a denial. Or maybe it was the sudden icy shock of his rejection.

‘I guess the moment got away from me. The lights, the memories, knowing you’re going soon . . .’

A pain, like a knife blade, slid through my ribs, on its way to my heart.

‘You kissed me because I’m leaving?’

His brow furrowed and his eyes were filled with confusion. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know. I just lost control for a moment. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’ He lifted his hands in a gesture of apology, but to me it looked an awful lot like he was warding me off. ‘I shouldn’t have done it. It isn’t my place to kiss you. I—’

‘It. Isn’t. Your. Place?’ Each word felt like it had been severed by a sword.

‘No. Of course it isn’t.’

He was so busy digging himself into a hole, he didn’t appear to have noticed I hadn’t wanted him to stop kissing me.

I slowly shook my head, and the action seemed to make things even worse.

‘For Christ’s sake, Lily. I’m trying to apologise here. Can’t you just let me say I’m sorry and let’s move past this.’

The ice on the ground was nothing compared to the ring that was slowly freezing around my heart.

‘That’s what you want to do? To forget this ever happened?’

‘I do,’ he said, as solemnly as a wedding vow.

I bit my lip, just in case it betrayed me by trembling.

‘Okay then. Consider it forgotten.’