Page 125 of Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

CHAPTER 9

NOLAN

“Nolan?”

His calming hand rests on my arm again. I take a deep breath and just like two days ago my thoughts start to settle.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re alright, I can see something’s going on. Do you want to talk about it?”

I look straight into those beautiful green eyes and see nothing but concern. I’m messing this up. Mac was wrong, I shouldn’t have tried this, but I want to. I feel drawn to Uli in a way I’ve not felt for anyone for a long time. His presence soothes me, but I can’t make that leap to do more than that.

I sigh and lean against a tree, needing its support. The least I can do is give him an explanation. He deserves that much.

“I invited you because I like you, Uli. I like you a lot.” He doesn’t say anything so I forge ahead. “But the last year hasn’t been easy for me and I’m scared.” He still remains silent, his face impassive. I can’t read him at all. Oh well, if he doesn’t want to see me after this, I can’t blame him.

“I’m scared of letting go, of feeling again and of getting hurt.” My chest constricts at the memories which keep surfacing every time I get close to him.

“Tell me,” he says quietly.

“If I do, you might not want to see me again,” I warn.

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” he says with a small reassuring smile. It’s fair and shows that he’s not given to false promises. I have to admire him for that.

“A minute ago I thought you might just walk off and leave me here.” It’s my clumsy way of saying I know I fucked up the moment we’d almost had.

“I thought of it.” He gives a tiny smirk and twitches his nose, his tell for a lie. “I’m really not that sort of person, Nolan.”

It’s honest and I believe him and the tightness across my chest eases. I recall Mac’s words, that Uli’s some sort of miracle. It certainly feels that way. He’s certainly someone special. Well, here goes nothing.

I tell him about Cliff, how I thought we were perfect for each other. I tell him all about Valentine’s Day last year, my plans of making the perfect day and the proposal. Then I tell him about how Cliff broke up with me instead, shattering my dreams and my heart alongside it. He doesn’t give anything away while I tell my story. Damn, I’d hate to play poker against this guy. I can’t stop the emotion from showing on my face. I wish I could sometimes.

“So you see, I’m broken and twisted and . . . scared,” I finish. I wait for him to say something, anything.

He reaches over and takes my hand gently and says, “Come with me.”

I’m confused, but I allow him to lead me to the edge of the path, to the top of the gorge.

“Do you see that tree over there?” he says pointing to an oak halfway down the side of the valley. It looks battered. At some point it had been cleaved into almost two halves but it still clings to the chalk. “Or that one?” He indicates another across the other side of the gap, one branch split and now hanging down at an angle resting on the ground. He brings a couple more to my attention.

“I can see them, but I don’t understand,” I say, still confused.

“Trees are very difficult to kill,” he starts. “Even when you cut them down to the ground, they’ll often find a way to put out shoots, create new branches and regenerate. They find a way to restart, to bloom again. Those that are beaten by the weather still want to live. They don’t give up, even if the next storm might damage them again.”

“You think I’m a tree?” I ask, though I’m starting to understand him.

He gives a small huff, as if I’m funny, even though I’m not. “I’m saying that if you deny yourself love because you’re frightened, you might not weather the storm, you might deny yourself a happy life and the storm may never happen.”

I stare at him for a full minute. If anyone is worth taking a chance on, it’s the man standing in front of me. But still . . .

“I’m scarred and damaged. I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.

“Would you photograph that tree?” he asks, pointing to the one clinging to the sheer side of the gorge.

I don’t hesitate with my answer. “Yes.”

“Why is that?” He probes for an answer.

“It’s interesting. It has shape and a vitality to it despite what it’s been through. It’s beautiful . . .” I trail off as I see his smile. I get it and yes he is a miracle. His hand is still in mine and he gives it a little squeeze but doesn’t let go.

“Shall we go back?” he suggests, and I agree. Still holding hands we walk back to his van.

This time when we walk into the pub, there are no decorations, though I think I wouldn’t mind so much now. I told my sorry tale to Uli and he didn’t run away. Instead, he showed me a different way of looking at it. I’m grateful to him and I want to give him a much better date than we had previously. I chuckle that I classed that as a date. We sit at the same table we did before but this time there’s no special buffet.

Uli asks me where have been my favourite places to go for photography, and although I’ve been to many countries and seen some amazing sights, some of my favourite places are here in the UK.

I don’t even mind when we draw the attention, again, of the larger-than-life Keith. He introduces us to his husband Ben and a few of the other local villagers, but I don’t take in their names and faces as I only have eyes for the man in front of me. As soon as dessert is over I pay the bill and we leave. We walk back across the village green in a comfortable silence.

When we reach the gate to the path to the cottage he pauses.

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” I ask and see him smile in the glow of the nearby street lamp.

“I’d love to,” he answers, and I take his hand and lead him to the front door.

“I apologise again for it being instant coffee,” I say. “You know, just in case you thought I’d lured you here with the promise of a decent cup.”

“I’m not here for the coffee.” A warmth to his voice catches my attention. It’s like molten chocolate.

“Is that so?” I step close to where he’s leaning against the counter.

He nods once and I reach up and cup his jaw in my hand, feeling the unexpected softness of his beard against my palm. I lean my mouth close to his ear.

“What are you here for?” I whisper.

I hear his breath hitch as he says softly, “You.”

I run my thumb over his lower lip and his eyes never leave mine. I slowly press my lips to his... just a gentle kiss. My heart starts to speed up and I draw back a little to look at him, check in with him.

“Please don’t stop,” he whispers, snaking a hand round the back of my neck and pulling me back down. It’s all the encouragement I need.

I run my tongue across his plump lips, tasting him. He makes a small groan and opens for me, allowing me in to deepen the kiss. I can’t get enough of him, and grabbing his hips I pull him close against me. I explore his mouth, hearing his breathy moans and wanting him to make them over again. He breaks off and I look at him with what must be a stupid grin on my face because he’s mirroring it back at me.

“Thank you for today, for giving me a chance, for showing me there’s a different way,” I tell him and pull him close against me, wrapping my arms around him, just wanting to hold him.

“I think you’re worth taking a chance on,” he murmurs into my jumper, and a calmness flows into my bones, the calmness that only he seems to be able to bring me.

Eventually, I pull away slightly. “Uli, I like you a lot. When I’m with you I feel more at peace than I have for a long while. I really want to see where this goes but I need to take it slow. Would that be alright?”

“Whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he assures me and we seal that agreement with another kiss.