Bastard(77)

“Nope.”

“Then why tonight?” I ask, placing a glass of water in front of him. His glassy eyes meet mine. I see sadness and maybe a touch of anger.

“Cos I felt like it. I see you haven’t changed. You’re still fucking nosey,” he retorts. I suppose being back here isn’t easy for him, so I ignore his snide remark.

I make four toasted sandwiches. Two each. I didn’t eat much when Mark and I went out for dinner. My stomach was in knots after our little altercation with Carter. “Here you go,” I say, placing the plate in front of him.

“Ta,” is all he says as he picks up one of the sandwiches and takes a bite. I find myself sneaking glances at him when he’s not looking. His face is so rugged, so handsome. Is it possible he’s grown even more beautiful over the years, because I’m certain he has? I shouldn’t even be thinking that, but I am.

Mark is pretty to look at, but in my eyes he has nothing on Carter in the looks department. Carter’s sinfully hot, all man, and those tattoos make him look so bad-arse. He’s every girl’s fantasy. It’s a shame he’s a non-committal man whore.

It’s a surreal feeling that we’re actually having a meal together, after all this time. Well, if you class a toasted sandwich as a meal. So much has changed since he left, but in a way, nothing has.

He looks up and catches me staring. “You don’t like your food?” he asks with a mouth full.

“Of course. Why would you ask that?”

“Because you look like you’d rather be eating me instead,” he says with a cheeky smile.

“What?” I screech. He throws back his head and laughs. “Nooooo. You’re delusional if you think that.”

“Just calling it how I see it, sweetheart.” When he winks at me I feel my face flush. Shit. I probably was looking at him like that. I need to get him out of this house, and away from me, ASAP.



For the next few hours, we eat, we chat, and we laugh—just like old times. I think it’s exactly what we both needed to heal, to completely move on. There was so much unfinished business between us, but now I feel like it’s all water under the bridge. I’m hoping after tonight, I can finally let all the hurt go.

Let him go.

My heart hurts to think this is more than likely the last time we’ll be alone again. He mentioned earlier he was leaving tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll see him around when he visits his mum, but not like tonight. I shouldn’t want him to stay, but for some reason I do. Well, part of me does. The part of me that now belongs to Mark, knows him leaving is for the best.

“I should get going,” he says.

“Okay.” I try not to let my disappointment show. I’ve missed being around him. I’ve missed the banter we shared. When he reluctantly turns, I follow him towards the front door. “Thanks for the food … for the catch up,” he says when we walk out onto the front porch.

“It was nice,” I reply, getting up on the tip of my toes and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Taking a step back, my eyes meet his. My heart is sad knowing this is our final goodbye. At least I’m getting one this time around. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too, kid,” he says, reaching up and gently running his hand down the side of my face. His touch is so gentle, so sweet. I feel tears burn my eyes. We stand there for the longest time staring at each other. His hand is still resting on my cheek. I find myself leaning my head into his palm. I briefly close my eyes and savour the last time I’m going to feel his skin against mine. I’d give anything for him to wrap me in his arms again. Anything.

When I open my eyes, I find him watching me. He gives me a sad smile. “Goodbye, Carter,” I finally say, taking another step back. I’m thankful I got to say it this time. It doesn’t seem to lessen the ache in my heart though.

“Goodbye, Indi.” He continues to stand there, not moving. That electric pull between us, the one we shared in the past, is still as strong as ever. As much as I’d like to stay out here all night with him, I can’t. Someone needs to be the strong one here. I turn and take the few steps towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand reach towards me, but then he drops it back by his side. I’m grateful for that. We need to make a clean break.



I manage to hold in my tears when I walk into the house, but they’re already falling by the time I reach my bedroom. My heart feels like it felt all those years ago when he left—broken.

I’m grateful that he came back, that I got to see him again. In saying that though, seeing him has conjured up all those old feelings. The ones that took me years to suppress. Guilt consumes me. I shouldn’t be feeling like this when I have a boyfriend.