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Quin had heard the words, but it was as if they’d hit a glass wall before they could impact him. In spite of knowing that Sadie had never meant to hurt him, or Sol, he still couldn’t seem to let go of the cold, hard pain inside him.
All he could think of—especially here and now, in this place—was that awful moment when he’d returned to find the house empty. Sadie gone. And then...as the minutes and hours had passed...mild concern had given way to confusion, building panic. He’d found her note just when he’d been contemplating calling the police.
He’d gone out into the streets to look for her, not understanding what on earth the note could mean. Surely she was joking? Or maybe she was just unwell.
He’d had Sol strapped to his chest as he’d walked for hours. But there’d been no trace of her.
An awful, liquefying panic had settled into his limbs, making him feel weak. Reminding him of how he’d felt when he’d realised his mother had left him. When he’d found no trace of her left in their house because their father had had all her things removed.
He’d had to sit down on a bench. An old woman had been there. She’d looked at Sol and heard him fretting a little, and she’d smiled and said, ‘His mama will be needing him back soon.’
He’d told Sadie just now that he’d kept the house and had it renovated in case she returned, but he knew it went deeper than that and he couldn’t ignore it. He hadn’t been able to let go of it, in spite of what had happened, because this was where he’d been happiest. And somehow that had eclipsed the pain. But it exposed him now. Exposed his weakness. Just like she’d exposed his weakness before. Making him fall for her. Making him vulnerable. Exposing him to pain.
Quin was still standing on his balcony a few minutes later, when he saw Sadie emerge onto the beach below him with Sol. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she was wearing denim cut-off shorts and a singlet, under which he could see a turquoise bikini top. Her feet were bare.
Something inside him cracked. Like this, even with her paler skin and lighter hair, she looked exactly like the Sadie he’d first met. Shy and blushing. And then bolder, more confident. Chattering non-stop about everything and everything. Passionate.Loving.
Sadie might still love him, but her words couldn’t even make a dent in the solid wall he’d had to build inside himself to weather the pain of her abandonment. Opening himself up to Sadie again emotionally...no. The mere notion made Quin’s hand grip onto the railing of the balcony, so tight that his knuckles shone white.
He wouldn’t survive. And his son needed him.
His future could not be with this woman, even though he knew she had a right to be in Sol’s life. That way lay certain pain. Because he would never not be waiting for the day when he would return to find her gone again. And that made a vice squeeze his chest so hard it hurt.
Sadie and Sol were further down the beach now, kicking a ball. Sol stopped suddenly, and turned and looked back. He saw Quin. He raised his hands to his mouth and shouted something, but Quin couldn’t hear what he said. He raised his hand to indicate that he would join them.
It had been a mistake to come here—especially with her. The place was too full of ghosts and memories. He hadn’t needed love in his life until he’d met Sadie, and he would never forgive her for making him fall for her. Nor would he ever be so weak again.
A sense of desperation filled him. Surely he would be able to find a way to minimise their contact? He would help set her up in her own place. Find her independence. There would have to be a way. And then this constant craving he felt would surely diminish.
He turned from the view and felt a sense of bleakness lodge in his gut. But bleak was good—better than pain.
That night, Quin woke to sounds of moaning...anguish. Assuming it was Sol, he checked on him—but his son was sleeping soundly in his bed, covers kicked aside, legs askew. Quin pulled the sheet back up and went out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.
Maybe he’d imagined hearing the—
But it came again, and this time he realised it was from Sadie’s room. Afraid she’d wake Sol, Quin went to her room and pushed open the door. Her covers were off too. She wore only sleep shorts and a vest top.
She was moving restlessly. He could see that her skin was slick with perspiration and her head was moving back and forth.
She moaned again. ‘No...please, no...don’t go away...come back...’
The sense of déjà vu was strong. She’d had nightmares when they’d been together.
Quin went over and put his hands on her arms, holding her gently but firmly. But it seemed to make her worse.
She started thrashing and mumbling incoherently. ‘Please...don’t try to stop me... No...No!’
She shouted that last word and, acting on instinct, Quin bent his head and covered her mouth with his to swallow her cries. He could feel it when her body relaxed under his hands...under his chest.
He pulled back. She was looking at him, eyes wide.
‘Quin? Are you...? Am I still dreaming?’
Quin could fee her breasts moving against his chest, the sharp points of her nipples. He said, ‘You were having a nightmare.’
She seemed to look beyond him and said, ‘I was... I was on the beach, and you and Sol were really far away, and I was calling you but you couldn’t hear me, and you wouldn’t turn around, and then someone was holding on to me, stopping me from getting to you...’
Quin felt a shiver down his spine. For a while after Sadie had left he’d had exactly the same dream—except he was the one trying to reach her and she couldn’t hear him.