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Chapter Twelve

“THAT SHOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED,” HE said, after a long stretch of silence, walking side by side aimlessly across the property.

She didn’t agree with him. She couldn’t, because she wasn’t sure he was right. Oh, it was complicated, but maybe it was also inevitable? It sure felt that way.

“I had no right to kiss you just because I was pissed off with my mother. It won’t happen again.”

Tia sucked in a sharp breath, his explanation tightening something painful in her chest. She glanced away, focused on the rolling hills in the distance. It didn’t stop the wound from gaping though and it almost made her say something aloud.

Tia had lived her life by controlling everything in it—a habit she’d come to by being permanently out of control as a child. She dictated the boundaries of every relationship in her life, every experience, every interaction. With the exception of Kate and Roman, with whom she knew she was safe to let her guard down, she didn’t allow people to get under her skin, to hurt her. She didn’t let things spiral out of her control.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she needed to take that back. But it wouldn’t be by pretending they could ignore their desire. If she did that, she’d be inviting the same thing to happen all over again—he’d touch her, or she’d kiss him, and it would explode, and she’d be at risk of not knowing where she stood.

A better idea was to intentionally shift the goalposts of their relationship while still remaining in control, managing their expectations so no one got hurt. Because for all she wanted to protect herself, she wanted to protect Hamish, too.

“You can’t know that,” she said unevenly, and she reached down and laced her fingers through his, so he looked at her sharply. “You want me,” she said, simply.

He ground his jaw. “Are you asking or telling?”

“I don’t need to ask.”

He looked away, a flush spreading over his cheeks. “And if that’s true?”

“It is.”

He angled his face back to hers. “Yes,” he said, finally. “I think I want you more than I knew it was possible to want a woman.”

Satisfaction soared inside of her so she almost laughed with the giddiness of relief. But first, she had to make him understand. She stopped walking, looked towards the valley where the sun was climbing steadily higher in the sky, promising another day of heat.

“I’m not like this by accident, you know.”

His eyes lanced hers, and she felt pulled apart, bit by bit.

“I used to be,” she searched for the right word and settled on, “different.”

“Different how?”

Of course he wasn’t satisfied with the lack of specificity. “Different, like, wild. Unkempt. I used to have hair down to my hips that was never brushed, I was barefoot for most of my younger years. Then we stayed somewhere long enough for me to start school and…” she cleared her throat, shocked by how the memories she hadn’t thought of in so long still had the power to hurt her.

“And?” he prompted, stroking her inner-wrist. And somehow, even when that touch unnerved her, it also brought her strength.

“And I was made fun of. Mercilessly. People called me swamp creature, yeti, you name it. They took a photo of me and printed it up to life-size then played a game called ‘pin the soap on the freak’.”

He swore angrily.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Kids can be shits. I know that now. And I really was…wild.”

“So what? Who gives a flying rat’s ass? You were still a person, a human being, who deserved better than to have the wind taken out of her sails by small-minded nobodies.”

His impassioned defence made her heart splinter.

“The thing is, it didn’t take the wind out of my sails, Hamish. It made me who I am. Not just them. Everyone. All of it. Every part of my shitty-ass childhood made me determined to grow beyond it, to be the best, to be beyond reproach. To be flawless and perfect and most importantly,” she breathed in, aware she was about to reveal something important, from which there was no coming back. “To always be in control of my own destiny, to steer my own ship.”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“I was dragged from place to place by parents who seemed to forget I existed half the time. I’d just start to settle in somewhere, maybe even make a friend, and then we were off, with barely any notice. They tended to wear out their welcome pretty fast. If it wasn’t for Grace and Roman, I wouldn’t have had anyone.”

“How did you stay friends with them if you moved so often?”