His clothes.His bag, still in Auckland.
From start to finish, that whole journey had been unfortunate, to say the least.But he was here now, and he needed to pull himself together.His mum would be here on Wednesday, and for the first time since his accident, he’d like her not to have worry in her eyes every time she looked at him.
Dan rubbed his face and then caught sight of the little bistro table in the private garden.If not for the dull dawn sky, the table and all the flowering shrubs behind it looked exactly like the images onAre Moana’s website.Daydreams of sitting out there with Issy, enjoying breakfast and evening meals, squeezed his stomach.
For the whole of December, they’d agreed to leave the rest of the world behind and spend their first month as a married couple alone.No agents booking them in for work.No appearances.No social media.No TV shows.No recording studios.No interviews.
And definitely no prying journalists.
But then came the horse, and the hooves, and the nearly being trampled to death.
Haunting memories flashed before him again—his most recent nightmare mixing with real-life trauma that still left him shaken.He dropped his head into his hands, and only when the bout of nausea settled in his stomach did he haul himself to the small kitchen in the corner of the room.
He searched the cupboards for a glass, found one, and ran it under the tap.Another wave of sadness gripped his gut as he glanced at the cooker.He and Issy wouldn’t be cooking together either.
As he drank another glass of water, a red toy truck on the breakfast bar caught his gaze, and on the floor leaning against a cupboard were Motormouth’s bags and her son’s stroller.
Slowly, Dan turned to look at the woman and child in the bed, both still sleeping.Pukey Kid didn’t look so evil now, and as for his mother… No wonder he hadn’t instantly recognized her last night.Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her eyelashes no longer covered in glitter.
Who was she?Apart from someone who had the same surname as him…
Well, whoever she was, he’d been rude to her, and he owed her a massive apology.“Wholesome heroes” like Daniel Jones couldn’t be human at the end of a bad day and snap at people.That was a lesson he’d learned when he’d left hospital, surrounded by those obnoxious reporters asking how it felt knowing he could never run again.
How the fuck do you think it feels?
He’d lashed out, smashed one of the cameras onto the ground, and ignited a whole load of rumors about his mental health.His agent had urged him to give him interviews, to give everyone the facts, but as far as Dan was concerned, all journalists could go to hell.
They weren’t interested in facts.
They were interested in money.
And knowing they were out to make money from his trauma disgusted him.
But back to the woman in his bed.She wasn’t a reporter.She wasn’t out to make money from him, so he’d find a way to smooth things over with her.But first, he had more pressing things to deal with—like how to move his hip and knee again without this stabbing pain shooting up his body.Physio would help, but first he had to loosen up his muscles and joints with a hot bath.
He grabbed his carry-on bag and limped to the bathroom.There was no lock.Instead, he dumped his bag and a heap of towels in front of the door as a Keep Out sign should Motormouth wake up, and then he turned and stared atThe Bath—looking exactly like it had in the photo on the website.
But the bath, Issy.Look at that bath!It’s huge!Dan had joked about it whenever Issy had said she’d rather stay in a luxury resort.Think of all the fun we can have in it…
You want to spend our honeymoon in a bath?
He’d hugged her, and she’d laughed when he’d whispered in her ear.I’ll show you how I’d like to spend our honeymoon…
Misery and betrayal clawed at his heart.
Why did you do it, Issy?
Dropping to his knees on the hard floor, Dan squeezed his eyes shut, horrified at the sting of tears.Fatigue clung to his bones, his stomach lurched, and the wound Isabella had left on his soul was seeping, bleeding him dry.
Pull yourself together, Jones!
It was the journey.It had taken more out of him than he’d ever imagined.Steeling himself against more movement, Dan ran the bath.
While the water poured, he plugged his phone in to charge in the shaver socket and checked if his mum had replied to his message.She hadn’t, but Mum wasn’t the type to be glued to her phone, especially on holiday, and neither was Auntie ZeeZee—who rarely even switched her phone on, let alone checked it.
There were several repeated messages from his sisters.
What the hell were you thinking!
