Chapter 8

Eight

M ore flowers arrived on Tuesday. And Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday. I was running out of places to put them all, and Alfie had started sniffling. There was a nasty cold going around at school, which was most likely the reason, but what if he was allergic to pollen? Was there a test for that?

At least I wouldn't have to worry about it today. Steven picked the boys up every other weekend, usually on a Friday evening but sometimes on a Saturday morning if he had some vitally important social event he couldn't miss, and they wouldn't be back until Sunday.

"I thought you were getting this fixed," he said, poking the rotten window frame beside the door with his house key while he waited for Harry to find his Nintendo charger.

"Oh, sure, money just grows on trees. If you paid your child support, I could fix things faster."

"My solicitor needs to check something on the forms."

Same old, same old. "If he's taking that long, you should find a better solicitor."

As always, Steven ignored that suggestion. "Harry, you ready?"

Finally, the three of them left, and I knew for a fact that Alfie had three slugs in his pocket, but those were Luisa's problem now.

My problem? The dirt the boys had tracked through the house after a rain shower yesterday.

I thought the florist would be closed on Saturday, that I might get some respite, but the doorbell rang just after nine o'clock, and when I peered through the peephole with a mop in my hand, the biggest bunch of roses I'd ever seen filled the view.

For crying out loud.

I yanked the door open. "Look, my whole house is filled with flowers. Next time you get a delivery for this address, could you just take them to the hospital instead? Or the old folks' home? Or the cemetery?"

The delivery guy lowered the flowers, and I realised that the sneaky sod had pulled a bait-and-switch.

"You'd rather have chocolates?" Eyes asked.

"Which part of ‘I don't want to speak to you' did you not understand?"

"I need to apologise."

"You already did that in writing. Five times." I folded my arms and fought back tears. "Just leave me alone."

"I tried that. Why do you think I stayed in my house last weekend? But now you know I'm around, and I want to clear the air in case we bump into each other again."

"Clear the air? Are you kidding me? I'm choking on lies and half-truths here. You've already screwed me in two different ways, and I don't even know your freaking name. Chip? Seriously?"

"It's a nickname. My friends call me that."

"Well, I'm not your friend. And what about Eyes? Another nickname?"

"No, that's my real name."

"Who calls a child Eyes?"

"My parents? It's short for Eisen."

"Eisen?"

"E-I-S-E-N. Eis for short. Wait, how did you think it was spelled?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you're a lying bastard."

"You thought it was E-Y-E-S?" He pointed at his own face, then grimaced. "Like the body part?"

"Well, you have very striking eyes. Eye." I smacked my own forehead. "Sorry. Sorry for being insensitive, and sorry for whatever happened to…you know."

"You have nothing to apologise for. The blame lies squarely with me. Will you let me explain? Please?"

Should I? If I kicked his oh-so-fine backside off my property, a broken part of me would always wonder why he'd done what he did. Why he'd led me on and then dumped me by text. Didn't I deserve closure?

"Janie?"

"If I say yes, do you promise to leave straight after?"

"Unless you want me to stay."

"There's no chance of that." I pulled the door closed behind me and put my hands on my hips. No way was I inviting him in. "Fine. Explain."

Now it was his turn to hesitate. "Fuck, I don't even know where to start."

"How about answering a simple question: why did you screw me in a birdwatcher's hide, sweet-talk me over the phone for three days, and then disappear? What did I do wrong? You owe me that much."

"You did nothing wrong. The short answer is that I went to prison."

Prison?

Prison?

Oh, hell. And now this criminal was on my doorstep. The hedge was overgrown, and the road outside was quiet. If he decided to murder me, would anyone even hear me scream? Eis was huge, six feet of solid muscle, and if he tried to subdue me, I wouldn't stand a chance. All I had to defend myself was a freaking mop.

"Leave. Just leave." I tried to sound strong, but I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice. "Get the hell away from me."

Eis took two steps back, but his gaze stayed focused on my face. "Don't look at me that way, Janie. I'm not going to hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

"I can't do this."

"Please, just hear me out."

I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and typed in 999. My thumb hovered over the "call" button.

"If you take one step farther forward, I'm calling the police."

"Fair enough." He blew out a long breath. "That's fair enough. So… My lawyer thought I'd end up with community service. And then I figured I'd find a way to tell you what happened, and maybe things would be okay. But the cops dressed it up as assault with a deadly weapon, and I got four years, two with parole."

"A weapon?" Now I took a step back, only for the door to get in my way. "What kind of weapon?"

"My fist."

"But…but that's not a weapon."

"Apparently when you're a pro fighter and you're assigned the wrong judge, it is." He sighed. "The motherfucker who raped my sister was talking shit to her, so I broke his jaw and a couple of ribs. I'm not sorry."

There was so much to unpack in that. Rape? Broken ribs? He'd never even told me that he had a sister.

"I…I don't know what to say."

"Then just listen. Sending that ‘it's not you, it's me' text was the last thing I did before a copper took my phone, and I only had a few seconds to decide what to say. I got it wrong, and then I had no way to fix things. I'm sorry for that. I'll always be sorry. My head was fucked, and I thought letting you go was the best option. I mean, would you have waited two years for me? We'd known each other for less than a week. Later, I wished I'd sent Edie to talk with you instead, but by then, it was too late."

"Who's Edie?"

"My little sister. I made a mess of everything, and I get that. After I was released, I tried to find you, but I heard you were married with a kid, so I stayed away. Janie, I just want you to be happy, but now I look at you and I see that you're not."

The tears came, but Eis stayed where he was, a rock in a stormy sea. He didn't move forward an inch.

And he was right. This was a mess.

Despite the gulf between us, despite the heartache he'd caused, I still felt that crazy pull, the invisible current that had first zapped me when he handed me a lettuce.

"He cheated on me," I whispered, meaning Steven. "With my boss."

"Then he's a fucking idiot."

"I thought he was the safe option. The opposite of you."

"You think I'm dangerous?"

"Well, you did tear my heart in two. You hurt me, Eis. You really hurt me. I can't just forget about that."

He managed a lopsided smile. "At the moment, I'd settle for you not crossing the road when you see me coming. And yeah, I'm handy with my fists, but I swear I'll never lay a finger on you."

I motioned towards his eye. "Was that another fight?"

He shook his head. "A colleague was having trouble with an ex, so I offered to walk her to her car one night. The fucker was hiding between two vehicles, and he threw acid at her."

I couldn't hold back my gasp. "It hit you too?"

"I saw him a second before she did and shoved her down, but I couldn't get out of the way fast enough. That…" Eis took a deep breath. "That really screwed with my head. I'd always felt invincible, you know? Physically, anyway. Then suddenly, I was sedated in the ICU having one surgery after another, and everything was out of my control. I couldn't even use the fucking bathroom on my own. And when I came out, that was worse. I had to adjust to a whole new life. Janie, don't look at me that way."

"What way?"

"With pity. I preferred the anger."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I need to think about this, okay? I just need some space."

"Okay."

"You said you'd leave."

"And I will. About the chocolates…?"

My head screamed no, no, no , but my heart overruled the same way it had thirteen years ago. This man had a way of making me stupid. Okay, stupider. I'd already proven with Steven that my judgment was sorely lacking.

"Maybe the occasional box would be all right."