Page 10 of Hooked On The One That Got Away (Miss Lovelock’s Agency for Broken Hearts #3)

Chapter Ten

Next morning, Willow shut off her alarm and lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Since swimming had become a vital part of her life, she’d been out of bed soon as her alarm sounded, eager to get down to the river and dive in.

Today, though, she hesitated. For one, she didn’t fancy the idea of swimming in a soup of human waste.

And two, she didn’t want to return to the spot where she’d been fished up by Charlie.

Not that he was likely to be there again – Willow was convinced it had been a one-off scouting mission for his work.

But she knew herself well enough to know she’d be watching out for him, just in case.

Which meant she wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy the swim.

And she couldn’t go back to her usual spot because of the swans. It was all bloody annoying.

To swim or not to swim, that was the question. Willow’s limbs began to itch with a desire to get moving. Swim it was.

On the way to the river, Willow decided. She would go back to the spot where she’d seen Charlie. It would be a good test for her to block out any thoughts of him and focus fully on the present moment.

She parked her car, and stowed her keys and phone in the swim buoy she’d bought when she’d begun river swimming and used once.

It was an inflatable thing that attached around her waist and floated behind her, out of reach of stroke range.

It provided dry storage for valuables and doubled as a flotation device if you got into trouble.

It was also a foot long and neon pink, and when Willow had first used it, a group of youths loitering on the towpath had pointed and laughed at her.

Willow had felt embarrassed enough by her obvious newbie status, so she’d shoved the buoy in a drawer, and trusted in the handy hole in the willow tree.

Last time in this new spot, she’d hidden her keys under her car’s front wheel arch but there were signs all over warning that thieves were active.

Willow had no wish to walk home in swim shoes. She got the buoy out of the drawer.

At the river’s edge, Willow scooped up a handful of water and gave it a sniff. Smelled like river. Didn’t mean it wasn’t an invisible stew of bacteria but until Willow knew that for certain, she wouldn’t allow herself to be put off.

Despite it being a fine, still morning, no one else was on the water. No swerving kayakers, or abusive rowers. No hissing swans. Just the usual occasional blip and bubble on the surface. Willow strapped the buoy around her waist, pulled on her cap and goggles, and waded in.

It only took a few strokes for her to relax and find her rhythm.

Swimming really was a form of meditation – calming, freeing, steady.

Willow made short work of the three miles towards the lock, so she paused there for a moment, circling slowly while treading water, enjoying the serenity, the sunshine.

The lock was at a safe distance, and Willow appreciated the aesthetics of what was a significant feat of engineering.

She’d interviewed a lockkeeper who was retiring after sixty years of helping boats from one part of the river to the next.

He’d told her all about pound locks and flash locks, weirs and sluices, the dams the Vikings had built, and Willow wished she could remember more of it.

Charlie would have remembered. That sort of thing fascinated him.

Willow recalled seeing the couple on the overbridge, fastening their love token to the railings. It made her think, reluctantly, about what Maeve had said the night before – that knowing why Charlie had left might give her closure.

It might, Willow conceded. But it might also bring her nothing but pain.

Being angry at Charlie had helped Willow stop blaming herself but those doubts still nagged.

If she asked Charlie to explain and he confessed he simply hadn’t been able to live with her anymore, then how would she cope, knowing the fault really did lie with her?

But that was only one possible answer, wasn’t it. There might be another. Was she willing to take that risk?

In the distance, Willow saw movement on the overbridge.

Someone walking onto it, stopping there to lean on the railings and look down at the water.

The sun was glinting off the surface, making it hard to see, but it looked like a young man.

The way he’d folded his arms on the railings and hung his head; he seemed dejected.

A sudden nasty thought – he wasn’t intending to jump, was he?

She hadn’t heard of anyone trying to end it all by jumping off a lock overbridge but that didn’t mean people hadn’t tried.

Willow lifted up her googles to get a better look, and saw the young man run a hand through his hair. His shaggy, light brown hair …

Willow swam as fast as she could to the riverbank and clambered up onto the towpath.

She ran to the lock, ignoring the wet slap of her swim shoes and the buoy flapping around her calves.

She was puffing hard by the time she reached the overbridge but didn’t stop to catch her breath.

The figure in the middle of the bridge had his head on his arms, turned away.

But then the buoy shot out in front of Willow and tripped her.

‘Fuck!’ she exclaimed.

Charlie jerked his head up, startled.

‘Willow?’

The stupid thing was tangled around her leg. She couldn’t look more idiotic if she tried.

‘Hi. Yes. It’s me.’

Charlie approached cautiously. ‘Er, that’s not a bright pink colostomy bag, is it?’

‘No!’ Willow wrestled it loose and threw it down. ‘It’s a swim buoy. And I officially hate it.’

Charlie was right in front of her now. He was wearing his fishing gear, a faded green T-shirt and waterproof cargo pants.

He hadn’t shaved that morning, Willow saw, and there were dark hollows under his eyes.

He looked weary and defeated, and instinctively, unconsciously, she reached out and stroked his face.

‘Are you okay? What are you doing here?’

Charlie grabbed hold of Willow’s hand and buried a kiss in her palm. Willow snatched her hand away – her skin felt like it’d been scorched – and Charlie briefly shut his eyes, as if in pain, then turned away.

‘Fuck …’ he breathed out.

‘Charlie–’ Willow’s chest tightened. ‘What’s going on? Tell me!’

He stared away from her, out over the water, and Willow was filled with an urge to both thump him and pull him into her arms. Her legs were trembling, from fear now as well as the sudden exertion of the run, and she put a hand on the railing to steady herself.

‘I’ve been a champion fucking idiot,’ he said, distantly. ‘Olympic gold medal level. Best in show.’

Willow wanted to find the sarcasm reassuring, but Charlie looked so utterly and completely desolate.

‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’ Willow asked. ‘Can I help?’

He turned and gazed at her, expression shifting between hope and what looked like anger.

‘You owe me nothing, Willow,’ he said, roughly. ‘I cringe to think about how stupid and arrogant I was to hurt you like that. I had this mad idea that when I told you, you’d understand. But I abused your trust and your good, loving nature, and if I were you, I’d never forgive me.’

‘Told me?’ The words had lit up like beacons for Willow. ‘Told me what ?’

Charlie blew out a long, shaky breath. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I want to so badly, but I can’t. Not yet.’

Willow’s brain told her she should rightly be angry, but all she could feel was bewilderment. And the unsettling sense that the ground she thought was solid was now shifting under her feet. What was happening ?

Before she could form a sensible response, Charlie pulled her still damp body into his and kissed her.

Hard and urgently, his mouth hot, his tongue seeking.

Any resistance Willow had melted, and she gave herself up to the moment.

Slid one hand into his hair and other around his tight rear end to close any gap between her and him, her whole body aflame as she pressed herself against his swelling erection.

How badly she’d missed this, Charlie’s kiss, his touch.

She wanted his hardness inside her right now, on this bridge, in full view of–

‘Shit …’

Charlie broke the kiss. His breathing was ragged, his pupils dark.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I–’

Willow, desperate with desire and longing, tried to kiss him again, but he pushed her gently away.

‘Bad idea,’ he murmured. ‘I mean good , but also very, very bad …’

‘Charlie, this isn’t fair.’ Willow’s frustration and bewilderment were fusing into fury. ‘You cannot keep treating me like this. Either tell me what the hell is going on or get out of my life once and for all. Stop playing with me! I’m not strong enough–’

Her voice cracked, but she refused to cry. She’d had all the humiliation she could bear for one morning.

‘A week,’ said Charlie. ‘Give me a week.’

Willow searched his face, wanting to trust him but not quite yet ready to.

‘A week for what ?’ she demanded.

‘For an answer,’ he replied. ‘It’s been way too long in coming, I know. So much longer than I anticipated. But I should have it by then. No,’ he corrected himself. ‘I will have it. I promise.’

‘And then?’ Willow said, softly.

Charlie’s face was a picture of bleakness. ‘And then – you decide. And whatever decision you make, I’ll accept it.’

The sun was shining down on them. The water glittered and sparkled. It was a beautiful day. Willow’s whole life hung in the balance.

‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘A week ...’

Then she said, ‘Charlie, will you be okay?’

It was less of a question than a plea for reassurance. She’d never seen him so unhappy. And a week seemed like an age away.

Her question took Charlie by surprise. ‘Yes, I’ll be okay,’ he told her. ‘I’m – glad you care. Amazed, actually,’ he added, with a wry twist to his mouth. ‘It’s way more than I deserve.’

Willow picked up the swim buoy. She loathed it but it did contain her phone and car keys.

Charlie watched her strap it round her waist again.

Willow half-expected another joke but he was silent.

She had nothing more to say, either, so she started to walk away.

As she did, she happened to notice the lovelock the couple had fastened.

It was heart-shaped, and Willow felt her own heart squeeze. But she kept on.

When she reached the end of the bridge, she heard Charlie call her name. Half-reluctant, half-eager, she turned around.

‘And you are strong enough,’ she heard him say. ‘You’re the strongest person I know.’

Willow’s breath caught in her throat. Was that true?

She couldn’t dwell on it. Not now. Willow hurried back down the towpath to where it was safe to enter the water, and without a single glance back at the bridge, dived in and swam away.