Page 14 of Into These Eyes

I glance up from the large, strong fingers spinning the mug and look into his eyes.

That hasn’t even occurred to me. The last few months have been a little strange with Anika gone, but I’ve been busy with work and visiting Dad in hospital every night.

Now that he’s gone, there’s only work left.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” A lump grows in my throat, but I force it down, focusing my attention elsewhere. “Why are you so good at this?”

He tilts his head. “At what?”

“How you’re treating me, how you’re keeping me calm, being so kind when I’m the last person who deserves it?”

“Well, for one, you do deserve it.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and his knee brushes mine again. “And secondly, I managed to get a degree in psychology while I was locked up.”

I stare at him, seeing him through new, thoroughly astonished eyes. I’d never put any thought into what he’d been doing in prison. If I had, I don’t think getting a degree of any kind would have been on my list of possibilities.

“Is that what you’re doing? Shrinking me?”

He shakes his head. “No. What I’m doing, is just being here for you.”

Those expressive eyes of his tell me he means it.

He lets out a long breath. “Besides, I’m a convicted murderer, which means my degree is useless. I’ll never be able to practice.”

As his words sink into my muddled brain, without any thought at all, I reach across the table and gently wrap my fingers around his wrist. His busy hand stills on the mug, my touch snapping his eyes from mine to the grip I have on him.

“Gavin. I’m going to change that. I’m going to make sure you’ll be able to do whatever you want with your life. Without restrictions. As a free and innocent man.”

With a reassuring squeeze, I let go and wait for him to acknowledge what I’ve just said. But he can’t stop staring at his wrist, leaving me wondering if he even heard me. Until his eyes swing up and meet mine.

“You?” he asks. “You’ll do that?”

“Of course. You’re the reason I became a criminal lawyer.”

He blinks at me, and when his hand comes up to his neatly trimmed stubble, I notice the tremble in his fingers. He seems completely rattled. “You don’t have to,” he says quietly.

“No one’s going to fight harder to clear your name than me.”

The way he looks at me in that moment sends my temperature skyrocketing. There’s something I can’t read in those blue eyes. Even though I can’t name it, whatever it is, whatever he’s thinking feels … special.

Breaking eye contact, I clutch the front of my blouse and fan it against my skin. “It’s so hot in here. How do you stand it?”

“I’m used to having no choice in the matter.”

“Sorry,” I say, “I must sound so pathetic complaining about—”

“Don’t do that, Jamie. Don’t sensor yourself because of me. Just be you.”

He’s smashing every belief I ever had about him. He’s not a pig, a stupid bum, a piece of shit like I always imagined. He’s shown me no contempt. Why does he have to be so fucking nice? And why does that hurt so much?

“I should go,” I say, standing before I remember my shoes are under the table. Plonking down again, suddenly physically and emotionally wiped out, my feet search the floor until I find them and kick them out past the table.

He rises, looking down at me while I slip on the uncomfortable heels.

“I still don’t like the idea of you being alone tonight,” he says, his voice thick with concern.

What choice do I have? Ignoring him, I grab my handbag and fish my phone out. “I’ll need your number.”

After he rattles it off, he escorts me out of the stifling caravan.

“Didn’t see no rockin’ goin’ on, Lake. She suck you off instead?”

Slipping on my sunnies, I ignore the piece of filth staring at me with a lecherous grin, but I can’t ignore the gentle, protective hand on my back as Gavin guides me along the worn dirt path between the caravans.

When we reach my car, his hand slips away as I open the door to let the heat dissipate.

“If you … ah,” he says, hesitating. “If you, by some miracle, come back here, please let me know when you arrive. I’ll come and get you. I don’t want you walking through this … minefield on your own.”

“I’m not a snowflake.”

He lets out a huff.

“What?”

“This place is full of some vile criminals. I don’t trust that it won’t just be words they attack you with. Not when it comes to someone like you.”

I blink at him. “Like me?”

His eyes shift to my car as he rakes one hand through his light brown hair and shoves the other in his pocket. After all the measured confidence he’s projected, he's suddenly uncomfortable.

“What does that mean?” I push, curious about his change in demeanour. So curious, I slide my sunnies up to my forehead.

His eyes snap to mine and hold there. “Because I don’t trust a single one of these animals when it comes to a … gorgeous woman walking through here.”

I let my sunnies plonk back to the bridge of my nose, desperate to hide my startled expression. Though there’s nothing I can do about the burn in my cheeks. I didn’t imagine it, did I? He just called me gorgeous .

With his words and the scorching sun ratcheting my temperature up to furnace levels, I slide into the car, start it up, and crank the air conditioning.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m really out of practice at this. Ignore me,” he says, stepping into the gap between me and the open door.

I shake my head. “It was just … unexpected, I guess.”

“There’s been a lot of that going around today.”

I can’t argue with that, so I don’t. Instead, I stare up at him.

Now that he’s outside in the glaring sun, the tiny dots of his pupils reveal the incredible depth in his blue eyes.

With the sky enhancing their colour, they’re not light and icy, but a deeper blue, one that reminds me of denim.

Different shades of gold and chestnut highlight his mussed brown hair and closely trimmed beard.

I shouldn’t even be noticing any of those things.

I should be grieving, reeling over the turmoil of the last few hours, but with him looking at me with concern, looking the way he does , he’s one hell of a distraction.

He’s fucking devastating.

A flutter of fear shimmies through my gut. Maybe I’ve made a mistake offering to help clear his name. I’ll have to be careful when I’m working with him. I can feel it right down to my toes.

He rests a forearm on top of the door and leans down. “Will you promise me something?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” I say, pretty sure he’s worried about my vow to clear his name.

“Promise me, that if you don’t feel like you’re coping tonight, you’ll call me. No matter how late it is. At the very least, you should have someone to talk to.”

I blink at him, surprised again. He shouldn’t be worrying about me. He should be celebrating his good news.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him as I click on my seatbelt. I want to reach for the doorhandle, but he’s in the way.

“Promise me, Jamie.”

“Sure. I promise,” I answer quickly, needing to get out of here before I have another complete meltdown.

Apparently satisfied, he takes a step back and gently closes the door for me.

As I drive away, I glance in the rearview mirror to find him standing where I left him, watching.

When I turn out of the caravan park, a strange sense of loss overcomes me. I scoff. Is it really a surprise? I lost my father today. My only parent.

And I’ve lost the sixteen years of hate I held in my heart for a man who never deserved it.

Can it simply be redirected to a man I loved my whole life? Because I haven’t just lost my father, but every single memory of him.

All of them were nothing but lies.