Chapter Twelve
“That man was a dick, you know that, right? He put all his insecurities on you. He was a bully and didn’t deserve you.”
“I know that, but when I like someone, I get carried away. Then realise what I’ve done and wait for the thanks, but no thanks.
I did it to you this morning, and you immediately said that you didn’t want me to do that.
I’m probably going to do it over and over, which will come across as really needy, and you’ll hate it.
Then I’ll be on my own again.” Trent throws his arms up in the air and strides away, heading back to the dunes.
I want to laugh. He’s like a kitten, all hisses and sharp claws. But he doesn’t scare me away. All I want to do is pick him up and hold him. I follow him, but I don’t catch up with him. I give him time to work out a few things. By the time he hits the path back up to his cottage, he’s slowing down.
“Trent,” I call out softly. He stops, his shoulders slumped, but he doesn’t turn around. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
He shakes his head, then wipes at his face. Christ, is he crying? I rush up behind him and pull him to me. “I’m not him. I’m not anything like him. Let me prove it to you.”
He looks down at the ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I tuck my hand under his chin and gently lift his head. Tears streak down his face, and his eyes are red, but he’s still stunning.
He pulls away and paces again. “I’m a headcase in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, and I know I’ll fall in love with you. And all you’ll have wanted was a summer fling.”
“I think falling in love sounds pretty nice, don’t you?” I lean down and brush my nose up the length of his. He’s shaking. “I can see me loving you, Trent, and I’m not scared to admit it.”
“But it’s still going to have an expiry date, and then there’ll be another life challenge to overcome.”
“Do you want me to leave?” He’s going to say yes, but I don’t think he wants me to, not really.
He’s challenging me, provoking me. I’m guessing that when he said this to the twat, he did exactly that.
It’s going to take time to prove to Trent that I’m not like that wanker, but we don’t have that time.
He’s already about two weeks into his six-week break.
Trent bites down on his lip and slowly shakes his head.
“Oh, sweetheart, come here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I hold him and kiss the top of his head as he clings to me, fisting my T-shirt. “Can we go inside?”
Trent nods, pulling away from me to get his keys out of his shorts pocket. I pick up all the bags and blankets and follow him inside.
After the door is shut, Trent takes the blankets from me and walks to the back door to the small, walled garden. “I’m not usually such a wuss, and I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day.”
“I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m sorry if I pushed you.”
He shakes the sand from the blankets and hangs them over the washing line.
“No, you didn’t. It was me. I knew our relationship was toxic, but he was familiar, and maybe I used him just as much. I hadn’t realised he didn’t like me.”
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was angry you were leaving, and he lashed out. He wanted you to hurt because you were the one who ended it all.”
“I doubt it, but thank you.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve had a lovely day, Merlin, even with my mini meltdowns.”
If anything feels likes a dismissal, it’s this. “Me too, sweetheart.” Not able to find anything else to say that won’t make me sound desperate, I settle on something simple. “Take it easy. I’ll see you soon.”
With that, I walk back through the cottage and out the front door to my car. I just put my key in the ignition when the door opens again, and Trent stands in the entrance. I pull out the key and open the car door. “What’s wrong?”
Confusion is written all over his face. Did he want me to stay?
I don’t understand. One minute he’s all over me.
The next he’s insecure about everything he says and does.
I don’t think he’s ready yet to take this any further.
He needs friendship before anything physical can happen between us.
Even though that disappoints me, I like him too much to walk away.
I can be that friend for as long as it takes for him to learn himself and to trust.
I stride back to him, but he steps back.
“What’s just happened?” He stays out of arm’s reach.
“You dismissed me. You said thank you and that you’d had a lovely day. That’s a goodbye in anybody’s language.”
I rub the back of my neck. His insecurities aren’t going to go away with a spin of the wheel. Does he even want my help?
“Can we go back inside the house?” Trent thumbs over his shoulder to the open front door.
“Of course.” I sweep my arm out to let him go first, then follow him in and close the door behind me. “Talk to me, Trent.”
He walks over to the small two-seater sofa and sits, his forearms on his knees and his head down.
“I didn’t want you to leave. I thought I was saying how much I’d enjoyed today and apologised for being a nut job.
I don’t blame you for leaving. Maybe I’m not ready for anything more, which is a shame because I really like you, Merlin.
You listen to me. You’re funny and sweet and too bloody good-looking for your own good.
I don’t know how to get rid of my past fuck-ups and be myself with you.
And…” He sighs. “You’ll get bored with me. ”
I move over towards him and perch on the side of the sofa.
When he finally looks at me, I can’t help myself brushing his hair away from his forehead.
“You are all those things too, sweetheart. You’re not what he said.
He only said it to hurt you because you didn’t want him anymore.
Why don’t we take it slow, get to know each other?
Let’s just see what happens. This place has a way of making everything work out.
It worked for Merrick and Drew, and for Ivan and Brodie. What do you say, just friends?”
Trent nods, but he’s chewing on the corner of his lip, and the frown lines marring his forehead haven’t abated.
There’s still some sort of dialogue running through his mind.
The best thing is probably to let him work through it.
He’ll talk to me when he’s ready. He hasn’t held back so far.
But plenty of what he’s said could be taken as a warning, giving me the chance to back out, or as a test to see if I’m as shallow as his last partner. Well, fuck that.
“What’s going on in your head, Trent?” As much as I want to touch him, stroke my knuckles down his cheek, and cup his face in my palms, I keep my hands to myself.
“I don’t want to be your friend.”