Page 16 of Hooked On The One That Got Away (Miss Lovelock’s Agency for Broken Hearts #3)

Chapter Sixteen

‘Before I start,’ said Charlie, ‘I have to make it clear that a lot of people are depending on me. They’re especially depending on me to protect them. So, I can’t give you any concrete details – I can’t even hint. Are you okay with that?’

‘How can I know ?’ Willow’s pent-up frustration found voice. ‘You’ve kept me in the dark for a year , Charlie! I can’t even imagine what you have to say to me now, after all that time, so how can I know how I’ll react?’

Her frustration boiled over into anger. ‘You should at least do me the decency of finally trusting me. You left without a word because you didn’t trust me. That’s right, isn’t it?’

Charlie’s face was taut with unhappiness, and a hint of defensiveness. ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ he began.

‘ Isn’t it?’ Willow wanted to goad him.

‘ No !’

A flock of starlings feasting on the grass nearby took off in startled flutter.

‘I did trust you,’ Charlie insisted in a low, urgent voice. ‘I trusted that you’d understand, once you knew the truth. I trusted that you loved me and that you’d keep on loving me. But I never expected it to take this long – that’s what’s fucked everything up. It’s all taken way too long.’

He blew out a shaky breath. ‘Willow, I couldn’t tell you then for the same reason I can’t give you details now, not yet. I know that sounds ridiculously over-dramatic but it’s the truth. What I’m involved in – it’s complicated–’

‘ Dangerous ?’ Willow’s anger gave way to anxiety.

‘Risky,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot at stake. But no one’s going to die. It’s nothing like that.’

It felt to Willow as if her mind was full of pieces of a puzzle, all floating around, refusing to settle into some kind of cohesive picture.

What could be so important to Charlie, and to whoever else he was involved with, that he’d upend his entire life, not knowing if he could ever get it back?

Apart from Charlie, there wasn’t anything in her life she felt strongly about. Was that a good or a bad thing …?

She did care about the river. Enough to want to help bring its polluters to justice.

But would she ever do more than take pictures of dead fish?

Willow couldn’t see herself throwing red paint over works of art or lying down in the middle of busy city street or crewing on an anti-whaling vessel on a choppy, cold sea. Or–

Oh shit. Or taking a job at a water company, so you were right there, on the inside, gathering all the vital evidence needed to expose them …

Willow knew it was the truth, just as surely as she knew the park bench would be free.

Charlie was part of Harvey’s friend Pigger’s activist group.

The secret, undercover network working to bring cheating, greedy, sewage-dumping bastards to justice.

Or at least to bring their actions to the notice of the nation and hope the outrage would force politicians to act.

It was such a relief, to finally know what was going on.

Hard on the heels of that relief, though, was another certainty.

Charlie had put the needs of the cause above her own.

Willow did not love the idea that she’d come second, but she could understand why Charlie might have made that decision.

He’d always been impatient to do something meaningful beyond protest, to make real change in the world.

Willow wondered if he’d planned it for a while, or whether he’d been caught up in the impulsive heat of the moment.

The latter was more like Charlie. And he had just admitted that he hadn’t known exactly what he was in for.

He’d had no idea how long it would take.

Now she knew the truth, could she forgive him?

No one would judge her if she didn’t – Charlie had abandoned her for an ideal, and that would be hard for anyone to excuse.

But here he was, apologetic, still very much in love with her and wanting her back.

And promising that it would all be over soon …

‘Willow?’

She heard the plea in Charlie’s tone, and the slight tremor of worry. She could tell him that she knew his secret, get it finally out in the open. But if there was a risk he and his friends would be compromised, she’d never forgive herself. Willow decided to err on the side of caution.

‘No more questions,’ she told him. ‘But I want you to promise me one more thing.’

‘What is it?’

Charlie sounded wary. Fair enough. She might be about to ask him for a trip to Paris, or a Labrador puppy.

Willow looked him in the eye. He held her gaze firmly, but she could see a muscle in his jaw working.

‘You will never keep secrets from me again,’ she said. ‘You told me I was the strongest person you know, so act like you mean it! Okay?’

Willow noticed Charlie’s startled blink with gratification. She’d never been a demanding person, but she was leaving no doubt now about what she wanted. What she deserved.

‘Er, I have to keep secrets from you for a little while more,’ said Charlie, apologetically. ‘But after that? Yes, I promise.’

‘You promise what?’ Willow was finding her newfound power heady.

‘That I will never keep secrets from you again,’ repeated Charlie. ‘That I will tell you everything.’

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Does that include my dreams?’ he added. ‘I have a lot of dreams about Premier League football, for some reason, but if you want the details …?’

Willow narrowed her eyes. ‘You know how you said no one was going to die?’

‘But you like Marcus Rashford – ow! ’

Charlie clutched his leg, where Willow had just given him a horse bite. Then he raised his hands protectively. ‘Not the face, not the face!’

‘Idiot,’ said Willow, settling for a sharp poke in the arm.

‘Ow,’ said Charlie, softly, then he cupped her face and kissed her.

Willow kissed him back, and felt the heat spread through her, as Charlie’s tongue sought hers, and his hand started to slide over her breasts. Desire for him practically lifted Willow off the bench, but Charlie suddenly tensed all over, and muttered, ‘Uh oh.’

‘You didn’t?’ Willow laughed.

‘No!’ protested Charlie. ‘Well, if we’re being scrupulously honest – almost. No, er, I just realised I’ve been sitting on the brownie.’

He reached round under him and, sure enough, retrieved a ruined mash-up of soggy paper and chocolate goo.

‘I felt something oozing through my trousers,’ he said. ‘Which is going to look like I shat myself, isn’t it? And to think, only moments ago, I was worried about showing the world my stiffy.’

Willow untied her sweatshirt from round her waist and knotted it around his.

‘It’s pink,’ said Charlie.

‘Suck it up,’ Willow told him. ‘And you owe me half a brownie.’

‘Among other things,’ said Charlie, with a rueful smile. ‘We could swing by the market again on our way back?’

Willow tried to keep the question casual. ‘Way back where?’

‘Somewhere there’s a shower? And heavy-duty stain remover?’

Charlie was trying to be casual, too. Both of them were failing.

‘I was a little hasty before, inviting you to my place,’ said Willow. ‘It will almost certainly have people in it. Housemates,’ she added. ‘I’m in a house share.’

Charlie nodded. ‘I’m on my own.’

‘How far?’

‘Ten minutes,’ said Charlie. ‘Er, you’ve been there before.’