White Knight Page 8

  “Because Lacey has enough influence to be able to bury it. She doesn’t trust the police to investigate it properly. She’s paranoid,” Claire said, taking a large mouthful of her drink.

  “There’s more that you don’t know about,” Nick said, glancing at me. “But you don’t need to know it. She should go to the police but I can understand why she won’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  Claire nodded, looking almost upset. “I understand. I just need to do my job, Nick, because if I get too involved with what she should and shouldn’t do I’ll lose sight of what we’re trying to achieve legally. She needs a friend and unfortunately because of Lacey’s games that’s what she doesn’t have.”

  Nick looked serious. “I’ll keep an eye on her. She’s over at the big house with your mum and a couple of our security guys are there too. Your mum was making a huge stew when I left which might be good for warding off hangovers when we get back.”

  “Those of us who are tame enough to get one,” I said, casting an eye at Seph who was carrying two bottles of trendy ale. “Everything that can be done is being done for now, so let’s just enjoy ourselves.” I held up my almost empty glass. “Cheers.”

  They both tapped their glasses to mine, muttering cheers, then Nick got up and headed towards Jackson and Vanessa, making the first of what would be a lot of inappropriate comments about wedding nights and bride’s nighties. Claire’s leg was still next to mine, setting my lower limbs on fire. I put my glass down and placed my hand on the small of her back, aware that the gesture would be noticed as we were both sat on stools. I pressed my thumb in softly to a spot that used to make her quietly moan and felt her relax a little.

  “I owe you an explanation at some point soon,” she said, turning to me, wide eyed and beautiful.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I said truthfully. “I’d rather start afresh.”

  She shook her head, thick hair shimmering under the lights. “No. I get that you need to know why I stopped speaking to you and cut you off. But I don’t know how. I don’t have the words yet. Give me a few days to think about it.”

  “I’ll give you as long as you need,” I said, the truth of the words thickening the air. “But you always knew that.” She leaned back into me slightly and turned her head towards me.

  “I wasn’t worth waiting for,” she said.

  “That was never your decision to make.”

  Claire stood up and gave me a watery smile. “People will start to talk. Max has already commented on the lack of insults I’ve given you.”

  I stood too, hearing Jackson asking what else I wanted to drink. I told him the same again and stayed opposite Claire, my hand still burning from touching her. “The afternoon’s going to be busy enough for people to realise you’re not trying to bully me anymore,” I said. “I think most of the insult will be aimed at Jackson.”

  “And Seph,” she said, nodding to where Callum and Sophie were quite clearly mocking him. “I should go and stick up for him but I think I’d rather add to his torment.”

  The afternoon blurred into evening, food eaten and more drinks consumed. We ended up by the river, in a small pub with a live band playing. Callum had long since disappeared, possibly kidnapped but more than likely having slipped away with one of the many girls that had tried to buy him a drink. Vanessa and Jackson were tucked away into a corner, blurred into one being as they couldn’t stop touching. Sophie and Amelie had bonded over too many bottles of wine and appeared to be putting the male world to rights. Claire was sitting with Max and Seph, my brother having headed off some time ago to relive Marie of babysitting the twins.

  Claire slipped away as I delivered a tray of beers to the table. I deposited the drinks and followed her outside, pretty sure that there would be no one untoward but needing some time where it was just the two of us.

  The feelings I’d had for her thirteen years ago hadn’t changed. No amount of random women, or even not so random women, hadn’t been enough to rid myself of the need I had had for the girl who was now very much a woman, one who knew her own mind.

  She paused by the river bank, staring at the moon reflecting in the water. “If you don’t want company I’ll check my phone from the doors,” I kept my voice low so the passers-by didn’t hear.

  Her eyes widened and her lips broadened into a smile. “I needed some fresh air more than anything,” she said. “And a bit of peace.”

  I stepped closer, hearing the sound of running water, soothing the night. “It’s been a strange day.”

  “It has,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Being back here with you. Jackson and his wedding plans. Having Callum home. It feels like old times in some ways, but then Jackson’s getting married and I overheard them talking about babies before.”

  I raised my brows at her. “I get the feeling it won’t be that long.”

  She shook her head. “I heard Vanessa say they’d wait a year and then they started talking about names. Honeymoon baby is my bet.” She laughed softly and I lost my fight to not touch her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

  “Aunt Claire,” I said quietly. “Fun aunt or strict aunt?”

  She didn’t move away so I moved closer. To an outsider we would look like a couple, close and intimate. To her family and our friends, we would look interesting. I prayed they wouldn’t come out, needing her closeness for a little longer.

  “Fun aunt,” she said. “I’m excited and nervous at the same time.”

  “That’s normal, I think,” I said, smelling her hair, clean and floral. I remembered the scent. “I was the same when I found out about the twins. More nervous though because of the situation.”

  “Understandable,” she said, turning into me. Her eyes looked up at mine. “Killian, why can’t you hate me for hurting you?”

  I took in her face before speaking: soft skin, high cheekbones, curious eyes that spoke more than her words ever did. “Because I know you had your reasons for it. I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone without good reason.”

  Looking into her eyes turned my insides over and I understood what I’d always known: this woman could slay me if she chose to, but I knew she never would. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue dancing across pink skin and that was it. I needed to feel her in a way others wouldn’t, I needed some evidence that she was still mine. I bent down and pressed my mouth to hers. It was only brief. A quick pressing of our lips, tasting the wine and tequila she’d drunk and demanding nothing. Her hands pressed against my chest, not pushing me away but simply feeling and then she slowly pulled back, eyes wide and swimming with a tempest of emotion.

  “We should go back in,” she said, her eyes wild. “K, this… Fuck. This isn’t fair.”

  “On who?”

  “On either of us.”

  “Why?” A cyclist passed by us. An owl called. The river ran its course. But we were the only ones who existed right now.

  “Because.”

  “Because what, Claire? I’ve been out of the marines for three years. You’ve spent most of that avoiding me, and when you couldn’t manage that you insult me like I’m your worst enemy. I guessed that was because you needed me to be your enemy. But you know what? I’m not. But I am thirty-four years old and you just made me feel like I did when I was twenty and kissed you for the first time.”

  She looked at me, half-shocked. I rarely said so much, especially in public, especially that directly.

  “I feel like I did when I was eighteen and we kissed for the first time. It was me who kissed you though.”

  I grinned, feeling my shoulders relax. “You’re remembering it wrong. Look, we need to talk. Not now. Not after what we’ve drunk and being here for the day. There are too many good fucking memories here. But soon.”

  Her hand found its position on my forearm. “I agree. Let’s head back in. They’ll all be too pissed to notice how long we’ve been gone for.”

  I nodded, agreeing, smiling. And unable to take my eyes off the woman next to me.

&nbs
p; ***

  Claire

  Thirteen years ago

  I clutched the toilet seat, feeling like I was being thrown into some sort of swirling vortex where my mind was being separated from my body. Vomit hit the back of the toilet and my throat stung. Again. My breakfast had revisited my mouth. Again. Just a bug. Just a weird bug. It would settle.

  A knock at the bathroom door sounded as I wretched again, still clinging on for dear life. “I’m coming in, Claire.”

  I was too sick to care. Marie was my step-mum, and had been my mum for fourteen years. She had given me space since I’d returned from my first year at university, understanding that I was used to living independently. She entered, locking the door behind her, something I’d forgotten to do, and knelt down behind me, immediately scraping my hair away from my face.

  I vomited again then felt immediately better. It would be over now. A bout of sickness, a few minutes of exhaustion and then I’d feel okay. Tired but okay.

  “I think I have a bug,” I said weakly, feeling her hand rhythmically tapping my back, just as she had when I was younger and couldn’t sleep or had a nightmare. It was soothing but I was fighting the urge to curl into her and cry.

  “Is that what they’re calling it now?” she said softly as I leaned my head down onto my arms, still not able to move.

  I felt sick again, this time with anxiety, the thoughts that I’d been hiding from for the past couple of weeks shooting around my mind like wasps. “What do you mean?”

  “When’s the last time you had a period?”

  I sat up, moving so my back was against the wall and Marie moved to sit next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders.

  “Claire, I’m not going to criticise you. I’m not going to judge. All I’m going to do is support you,” she said, tightening her hug.

  I felt a sob bump up my throat. “I’m about two weeks late.”

  “I think we need to do a test. Then we have all the facts.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t be pregnant. I’m on the pill. I’m really good at taking it.” I was, like clockwork. I was a planner, rigorous and meticulous. It was why I knew I’d be such a good lawyer.

  Marie nodded. “I don’t doubt you. But the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective and didn’t you take a course of antibiotics a few weeks ago?”

  I heard a siren go off in my head, a warning ringing loud enough to vibrate through every bone. “Yes,” I said. “Shit.”

  Marie laughed quietly. “Claire, it’s going to be fine. I promise you.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me who… who…” I started to stutter, tears filling my eyes. I hated crying, it was something I rarely did and I didn’t let anyone see me when it happened, usually. Killian had been the only one; a shitty day and a bad grade that eventually got boosted up had driven me to tears. He’d been a rock, holding me, laughing when it was appropriate, just being him. I needed him now, but he was in Ireland for four weeks, seeing his parents and brother who was home on leave.

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  I looked at her. I wanted her to know that it was a serious boyfriend and someone that I knew she liked. Then fear ran through me; what if she was angry with him? Killian got along so well with my parents and my two elder brothers were best friends with him. They’d be furious – we’d kept it quiet not wanting to change the way our relationships worked, keeping us a secret. “I’ve been seeing him since Fresher’s Week,” I said, needing her to know the background. “We’ve kept it quiet.”

  She looked at me knowingly. “Killian,” she said. “When he stayed at Easter you spent a lot of time together and I noticed the way you looked at each other. Don’t worry, Claire, I’m not going to have him assassinated. He’s a good man.” She extricated herself from me and stood up. “I bought some pregnancy tests yesterday. Let me go and get them.”

  “Yesterday?” I said, my eyes dry now, feeling better than I had for days now she’d talked to me.

  Marie laughed softly. “Your moods and tiredness. Plus, the morning sickness. And I have a sixth sense about these things. Two minutes.”

  She closed the door, shouting to Payton to take Ava to the shops in the village for bread and chocolate. She wanted to get them out of the way for an hour for which I was grateful. I adored my little sisters, I loved looking after them and had done since they were babies but right now I needed Marie to myself.

  “Pee on this,” she said five minutes later, during which I had gone through every possible scenario and was now shaking like a leaf. She passed me a stick like I had seen in adverts in magazines. I pulled down my jeans and crouched over the toilet, taking ages before I started to pee. Marie looked at her reflection in the mirror, routing through her hair for any grey strands.

  “What do I do?” I said, staring at stick like it was from an alien planet.

  “Wait.”

  Marie didn’t bother to make small talk as we waited, the air thick with tension. I knew I wasn’t ready for a baby. I had done my first year at university, passed everything with excellent scores. Killian was about to join the marines and although we knew it would be tough to maintain a relationship we were going to see how it went. I wanted to focus on my studies and do better than my brothers. But part of me, the part I barely acknowledged other than when I looked after my siblings or had babysat for neighbours in the village, had fallen for the idea.

  Marie hovered over me, her eyes on the stick. “It’s positive, Claire.”

  “Oh.” I looked at it. Two blue lines stood out like a sign at a crossroads.

  Marie regarded me with kind eyes before enveloping me in a hug. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  We did, without talking at first, walking through the fields and the river. It was a glorious day, late summer with bright skies and swallows dancing high. I wondered what Killian was doing now and realised I was crying.

  I sat down in the field, long grass surrounding me. Marie sat beside me and let me sob it out and I knew that they were tears of grief because the decision I had to make was as clear as the lines on the test.

  “Your father and I will support you whatever you decide,” she said. “And it is your decision. I won’t tell you what I think, because I don’t think anything. Both outcomes are doable for everybody. We love you and we always will.”

  I cried harder, staring through bleary eyes at a butterfly passing by on its easy way. I was lucky because she was right. I could choose to keep it and be supported, or to not and no one would judge. A lot of girls in my position did not have that luck.

  “I know what I have to do,” I said, calming my chokes.

  “You have time to make up your mind.”

  “I know. But the longer I leave it the harder it will be to do the right thing. And you know I always act straight away once I’ve made up my mind,” I said, straightening my back and biting my lips to keep the tears from dropping further.

  Marie nodded. “Tell me your reasoning.”

  “If I was to go through with it, Killian wouldn’t join the marines. He’d want to support me. He’d stop the career he’s always wanted. I would go back to university but obviously things would change,” I said, keeping myself on the facts not the feelings because that was the only way to get through this.

  “I’ll book an appointment for you. I want you to remember you can change your mind.”

  She did but I didn’t. Throughout the night I thought, watching the clear night sky and the moon hanging there like in a Van Gogh painting. I ignored Killian’s text, needing to fend off the guilt that was starting to gnaw at me and I grieved for the baby we wouldn’t have, thinking of what names we would’ve picked and how much it would’ve been loved but knowing that it was the right, practical call for this moment in time. I only wished this moment was five years in the future, and that whatever deity dished out the shit would save a little bit of sunshine for me in the future.

  For the rest of the summer I ignored Killian, eaten up by grief and sadness. He p
honed and messaged and emailed but I didn’t respond. The procedure had been straightforward; a pill followed by bad cramps and a heavy period. I locked myself away, read next semester’s textbooks and focused myself on my career.

  That was what I had. A career.

  And a shit load of guilt.

  Chapter Six

  Claire

  Sleep did not come easy after the evening. By the time we got home it was after midnight; Vanessa was asleep on Jackson’s shoulder; Sophie and Amelie were half sober having opted to spend the last couple of hours drinking water and discussing beauty treatments and weird pedicures; Callum had turned up, refusing to inform anyone on where he’d been, and Max and Nick were discussing rugby. Killian had been quiet, unsurprisingly. He wasn’t the one to be the centre of attention – that was Seph who we had put in a taxi shortly after ten with a plastic carrier bag in case he was sick – and he had been even more quiet after our conversation.

  He was more of everything than he had been at university: taller, broader, blonder and the beard made him look like a Viking. A Viking with biceps and tattoos. My body had reacted automatically to him, a stronger reaction than when we were younger and if I had drunk more I would’ve likely offered to let him take me in front of everyone such had been the overwhelming need.

  I’d replayed the kiss, which put a serious stop to any sleep and used my fingers to seek relief, fantasizing about slipping into his room and waking him up with my mouth on his cock. I still felt frustrated two orgasms later, my thoughts interchanging between the conversation I needed to have with him and the kiss.

  The house was quiet when I went downstairs to seek coffee. I had at least another couple of days here before going into the office to give Killian and Nick a chance to sort out security, during which time I would work remotely, talking to Katie and responding to Dean Lacey’s solicitor who had finally been in touch. I would be busy but being out of the city would allow me some space and a slower pace for a while and I loved being here. It was where I felt safest.