She would be back, of that he was certain.
He’d been building up a head of steam this morning while he’d fought the oleander hedges back into shape, thinking about what he would say to Sabine when he found her number.But then he’d overheard Chelsea’s side of the phone call.
Chelsea and her mother hadn’t intended to neglect Lilydale Cottage.He couldn’t be angry at them.
Darren was another story, and someone he might visit later if he could get the address.
He walked back to where he’d been gardening, gathered his equipment and returned it to the shed, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave.
Lilydale was the only good part of his childhood.
He couldn’t see it turned into units.
Though he had no right, he wanted to speak to Chelsea, ask her if there was anything he could do to help, find out whether she intended to sell Lilydale to a property developer.
Find out whether he could afford to buy it.
A stupid idea.He wouldn’t be able to maintain the property while he worked with Special Forces.He wouldn’t have enough time.But that knowledge hadn’t stopped him reviewing his finances last night.Maybe he could pay someone dependable to maintain it and when he finally got out, he’d have somewhere to live.
Foolish dreams.
Ethan scanned the barn.He’d already packed his things into his car, ready in case someone discovered him and asked him to leave.He could be gone in less than a minute.
He jangled his keys in his pocket.
Leave already.
Closing his eyes, he sighed.He’d done everything to forget about Chelsea, but one glimpse of her had brought all the memories back to him.
The first time he’d met her was when she’d arrived to spend the summer holidays with her aunt.He’d known she was coming, because Aunt Maggie had talked of nothing else for weeks.It was her great niece’s first visit since they’d moved to Sydney two years before, right before Ethan had moved to Honeybrook.
Ethan had heard Chelsea’s joyful laugh from across the garden.He’d been weeding around the pond and he’d looked up as she ran down the path to the banana passionfruit vine, wearing a summer dress, her brown hair flowing out behind her.So beautiful.He’d ducked down so she wouldn’t catch sight of him, not wanting someone so lovely to catch him in his grubby work clothes.
Kind of like he’d done today.
He’d avoided her for the first couple of days, but she’d caught him unawares on her third.
He’d been pruning the oleanders like today and she’d run around the corner, heading for the hen house, when she’d spotted him.
Though he’d braced himself for derision, she’d smiled a little shyly and said, “You must be Ethan.I’m Chelsea.Nice to meet you.”
He’d grunted a response or something equally mortifying, and she’d continued to the hen house.
A Casanova he wasn’t.
The fact he’d been surprised she’d been nice to him was proof of how low his expectations were.But it also encouraged his fantasies about one day having an actual conversation with her.
Ethan shook his head and pushed away the thought.He wasn’t a lonely teen anymore.He had plenty of friends and confidence in himself.
Still, if he left now, Chelsea might not invite him back.
She had every right not to want to see him.
When had he become such a fool?All it would take was one phone call to the police and they’d turf him out, or arrest him for breaking and entering, and trespass.
As he unlocked his car, he heard an engine idling in the distance.Was Chelsea back already?
He moved to the barn door as the telltale squeak of the side gate opening was followed by the slam of a car door.
