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The staff at the new place were welcoming with wide smiles and offered to send along a tray with tea and muffins as soon as they were settled in. She took a breath as she saw the room they’d prepared—stunning, with a magnificent view across the beautiful gardens. He could watch the sport. She could call in any time. There was even a room for her to stay the night should she want to. He’d be safe. Well cared for. And the country’s leading specialist in geriatric medicine was at the hospital down the road.
It wasn’t ’til after the tea tray arrived that Grandfather started to lose it. Alone with him, she helplessly tried to calm his agitation. But no matter what she said it worsened until he was beside himself—his eyes blank, panicked, a frightened old man, shouting. The nurses came, the doctor, gently calming him, administering a sedative and lifting him onto the bed.
Inside she crumpled—hating the destructive illness. Wishing there was something more she could do. Wishing to see him happy—desperate to have him back.
The doctor said the stress of the move might make him more confused for a few days but that he’d settle down again. The reassurance didn’t help. Doubts about everything brought her own despair to the surface.
The doctor then looked closely at Amanda and told her to go home. Colin would sleep through the night now and she’d be more help to him by appearing early in the morning refreshed and breezy. But she lingered, sorting through his things, setting up the photo frames, the small items of familiarity he’d had at the old home.
It was after eight when she got into the car. There was only one destination. She needed to see him, to feel his touch, to have just that fraction of what she really wanted.
She drove to Jared.
The tears started ten minutes into the journey and were streaming by the time she pulled into the garage beneath his apartment complex. By the time she exited the lift she was barely able to walk.
Tired, hopelessly confused and terrified she was doing the wrong thing in everything. She’d never felt so alone or uncertain in all of her life. Never felt so in need of comfort. She was barely able to gulp back the sobs; her throat, eyes and heart were lumps of burning pain.
She’d give in. She’d take the crumbs. She’d take whatever it was he could offer for as little or as long as he wanted. Because right now she needed him. Needed his arms around her and his strength inside her.
She fumbled with the door key, hardly able to see for the way her tears were rippling her vision. And then it opened from within. Jared’s features swam before her.
She was so relieved more tears fell. She hadn’t expected him to be there but he must have been home for a while because he was barefoot and tousled in tee shirt and jeans.
‘What happened?’ She only half saw it, but she clearly heard his frown—heavier than lead.
She stepped just inside the door and waited as he closed it. As he turned back to her she put her arms around his neck. Not wanting to talk, just wanting to forget and to feel. ‘Kiss me.’
‘No.’ He didn’t move.
Her fingers threaded into his hair and she pressed down hard, wanting to bring his head closer to hers.
His hands gripped her wrists, and he removed her arms, pinning them to her sides. ‘No, Amanda.’
She didn’t understand. Refused to believe.
She leaned forward, sinuously pressing her breasts and pelvis against his body. ‘Kiss me, Jared.’
He stepped back, hands sliding up to her upper arms, forcing her to stand alone. ‘No.’
No.
She heard him then.
No. No. No.
She was blind to everything but that denial; her tears splashed on her arm—on his hand.
Oh, God, he was rejecting her again right when she needed him most. Right when she was ready to give in and accept anything from him—no matter how little. Now he was taking it all away.
She wrenched away from him. Running.
‘Amanda!’
She curled her fingers round the key that she still held—gripping it so tightly her skin was almost pierced by its jagged edge. Not caring that it was his car she was going to escape him with. The lift was still on his floor. She jabbed at the buttons, shutting the door, stopping him from coming in after her.
In the cool gloom of the basement the lights flicked on his car as she pressed the button on the key. She was in and hit the ignition. The engine purred. She jerked the stick into gear. But then she turned on the windscreen wipers instead of the lights.
‘Damn!’ Bloody European car.
That smallest, silliest of things was the final straw.
She screamed. Gripping the steering wheel as she bent her head over it and howled with the pain and guilt and sheer soul-destroying loneliness. A raw, violent sound that cracked and lurched as she sobbed uncontrollably.
