Fall from India Place (On Dublin Street #4)(23)
Author: Samantha Young

The muscles in his back tensed.

Wariness moved through my chest, ugly and dark, and I waited, holding my breath.

He pushed up off of me, staring at me incredulously. “What the…” He scrambled off me as though I’d burned him. “We didn’t. What…” He hurried to dress.

“Marco?” I sat up, my lips trembling with vulnerability.

His eyes moved over me, and whatever he saw made him squeeze his own shut in despair. Despair!

My tears fell.

“We shouldn’t have.”

“Marco.”

“I shouldn’t have.” He yanked his T-shirt on and quickly stuffed his feet into his trainers. He looked back at me as he turned the lock on the door. “I’m sorry, Hannah. God, I’m sorry.”

And then he left me there.

Crying, I stumbled around the room through blurred vision, pulling on my clothes before someone came in. Dressed, I stared back at the bed, my eyes zeroing in on the spot of blood on the blanket.

Despair? Despair in this moment was mine, not his.

I never saw him again. Not until a few hours ago at a random wedding. My first love. My first time.

My first heartbreak.

The tears shimmered in my eyes, but I didn’t let them loose. I’d shed all those tears years ago.

CHAPTER 7

I think more than anything I was angry. Not just at what Marco had done to me by leaving, but at what his reappearance was doing to me. I’d felt lost for a long time after he left. It had taken me a while to find my strength and independence again. It had meant hardening my heart and creating little locked doors in my soul so that only the people I trusted implicitly could ever make it inside to touch it.

Standing opposite him, staring into his handsome face and those eyes that seemed even more soulful than before, I was that seventeen-year-old girl again. Totally lost.

That pissed me off.

How dare he walk back into my life and make me feel that way? I wasn’t that person. I was my own person and I knew who I was, I knew what I was about. I had family and friends and students and colleagues who knew and respected me.

This person, this aching, bruised, lost person… that wasn’t the person they knew.

That enraged me.

Twisting and turning through the night, the anger eating away at me, I knew when I finally slid out of bed that Sunday that I couldn’t face my family. They’d take one look at me and know something was going on. Cole was already too suspicious. So I texted Mum and told her I was bogged down with work and couldn’t make Sunday lunch. In truth, I needed time to cool down, reflect, to get back to being me again.

To do that I set myself up in my living room, surrounded with schoolwork, and spent the entire day catching up on my marking. Somewhere along the way the anger began to cool.

I was so caught up in my marking I almost jumped off my couch when the doorbell rang. It was past six o’clock, the sky was darkening outside, and I’d had to switch my lamps on to see my work. I couldn’t think who would be visiting me. With my crazy, overprotective crew it could have been anyone. I didn’t know why I was surprised. This would be the fourth time I’d missed Sunday lunch in as many months. I should have known it would start to concern someone.

That someone was Ellie.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, following her into my living room.

I watched her take in my work, her expression pensive.

“Ellie?”

She frowned at me. “You missed Sunday lunch. Again.”

I gestured to my work. “I told Mum I had loads of marking to do.”

Despite the evidence staring her in the face, my sister didn’t seem to buy it. She knew me too well. “Are you sure that’s it? Cole seemed worried you weren’t there.”

Ellie would dig until she found the truth, so I outmaneuvered her by opting for a version of the truth. I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Fine. When Cole and I were at Anisha’s wedding reception last night, I bumped into a blast from the past. Marco D’Alessandro.”

My sister’s blue eyes grew round with surprise. “My God. How did that go?”

Any attempt to keep the bitterness from my face clearly failed as I curled my lip in disdain. “I found out he’s been back in Edinburgh for four years and didn’t bother to get in touch.”

“Not good.” Ellie winced sympathetically.

“What do I care, right?” I flopped down on my couch. “It’s just…” I shook my head in pained bemusement, watching Ellie lower herself into my armchair. “I found a photo of him last week and it was the first time in a long time I’d thought about him… and then poof! Suddenly he’s right in front of me. It knocked me off balance. But I’m okay now.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes on me, scrutinizing me. “I hope you’re telling the truth.”

I made a face. “I am.”

“Hannah, I’m your sister and I love you. You have an entire family who loves you. Five years ago you started shutting us out, putting on this front, determined to take care of yourself without our help. You need to stop that. Not just for you but for us. We’re here if you need us, and frankly we need you to need us.”

Feeling guilty, I glanced away from her, staring at my work. “I’m not shutting you out, Els. I promise I’m okay.”

“I don’t believe you,” she replied quietly. “I haven’t forgotten our talks back then. I haven’t forgotten how much you felt for him. Marco is your Adam. You were devastated when he left. I know you’re not okay.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say or if it was possible to force words out of the burning, painful ball of tears clogging my throat. At my prolonged silence, Ellie sighed unhappily and promptly left. The fact that she didn’t say good-bye told me she was hurt and annoyed at me.

I went right back to being pissed off at Marco.

I stewed for a while, until my phone rang and jerked me out of my daze. With a sigh, I reached for it, not recognizing the number. Hoping it wasn’t a salesman, not just for my sake but for theirs, I answered.

“Hannah, it’s me.” Marco’s familiar deep voice hit me with the force of a cannonball.

My whole body shuddered away from the phone in shock and I stared at it for a second, fury quickly building in me at his audacity.

I heard him say my name in question.

Putting the phone back to my ear, I snapped, “How did you get this number?”

“From Anisha. I explained we were old friends. I just want to talk. I need a chance to explain.”