Page 33 of Into These Eyes

I don't have to think about it. “When I was a kid.”

“Yeah? Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Although I’m looking at the ocean, my mind’s only aware of what’s directly around me.

Him .

Pushing the thought aside, I take in the horizon, the sun sparkling on the water, the different shades of emerald as the waves swell, then break. Seagulls hover on the stiff breeze, the sounds of their squawks mixing with the crashing ocean.

He’s so right. In this moment, absorbing all these sensations, the stress in my life ebbs away. “It’s truly stunning.”

“In prison,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, “you can never see the horizon. There’s no space, no beauty. Only walls and fences and razor wire. The exact opposite of this.”

Tenderness floods through me. He’s letting me in again, revealing an important lesson he had to learn in the most atrocious way. And he’s passing it on, reminding me what shouldn’t be taken for granted when it’s freely available.

The heat of his chest radiates into my back, and I can’t resist the temptation anymore.

I ease into him just a centimetre, as if it’s a total accident, and warmth spreads across my shoulder blades as I connect with his hard chest. I hold my breath, waiting for him to break the contact.

He doesn’t. In fact, I’m sure the pressure against my back increases.

As if he’s pretending it’s unintentional, too.

I long to take his hands and wrap his arms around me, let him rest his chin on my shoulder, and just hold me as we stare out at the amazing expanse of ocean before us.

But I don’t move. I can’t. I don’t really know this man.

The problem is, my instincts are screaming all sorts of crazy things, and none of them are the usual warning signals I’ve come to expect on the rare occasion a man shows me any interest. What I need to do is what I always do.

Analyse and pick apart every thought, emotion and reaction I’m having.

And once I do that, I’ll be able to reason away these ill-informed instincts.

“Alright, love birds. What’s so fascinatin’?” Benny asks from behind us.

Gavin’s pecs turn to stone against my back. As I leap to my feet and brush the sand from my backside, I glance at Gavin. Jaw clenched, the amusement in his eyes gone, he’s clearly avoiding my gaze. And … is he blushing?

I bring a hand to my cheek, the radiant heat there almost burning my fingers. Thank God he won’t look at me.

When I glance at Benny, he's grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

“We should, ah … probably head back, beat the traffic,” I say.

“Be right behind you,” Gavin mutters.

“Somethin’ up, Gav?” Benny chuckles.

Apparently unimpressed, Gavin grabs a handful of sand and flings it at Benny’s legs. The older man only laughs harder.

“C’mon, love, let’s leave grumpy pants alone for a bit.” Benny takes a wide arc around Gavin until he reaches me, then holds out his elbow. I curl a hand around the inside of his arm and let him guide me in the direction of the car.

When we reach the hard-packed sand, I take a quick glance over my shoulder at Gavin. His forehead rests on the arms he’s crossed over his knees. I know Benny’s love birds comment has everything to do with the sudden change in his demeanour.

“Don’t worry, love. He just needs a few minutes.”

“For what?”

His gaze turns curious. “Why else would a man not want to stand up right after snugglin’ with a girl?”

I gape at him. “We weren’t snuggling ,” I protest. He chuckles and shakes his head. That’s when understanding thumps into my dumb brain.

Somethin’ up, Gav?

I’m instantly thrown back to the other day, outside his childhood home, when the same thing happened.

He’d been mortified. My heart speeds up.

I don’t have to imagine how much he craves physical affection.

Because with every look, every smile and every touch, he’s making me feel it, too.

And I’m no sure how much longer I can keep that longing buried deep inside, no matter how much I want to.

“Young people. Totally oblivious ta what’s right in front of ‘em,” Benny says, patting my hand. “Hopefully, by the time he catches up, he’ll have stopped wantin’ to strangle the livin’ daylights outta me.”

Turning my face away from Benny so all I can see is the ocean, I smile, so glad Gavin has this man in his life. The fact that they rib each other shows how close they are.

It’s not until I drop them off at the caravan park, that I realise I’ve had one of the best days of my life.

The next morning, I explain to my boss what I’d like to do for Gavin. He agrees that if I’m successful, it’ll be great publicity for the firm and, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my current cases, he gives me the go-ahead.

When lunchtime arrives, I meet Pete and tell him the good news, eager for more advice now that I have what he claimed I needed.

To my surprise, he’s not enthusiastic at all.

He’s doubtful the recollection of a seven-year-old boy, sixteen years ago, will be enough to convince the court of Gavin’s innocence.

Before I get a chance to go through the details, Pete cuts lunch short when he receives a call, leaving me wondering why he’s behaving this way.

I’m not buying that he simply wants me to step away from acting for Gavin because I don’t need the added stress.

Early that evening, I place my laptop on the dining table, eager to get to work on Liam’s affidavit so it’s ready for him to sign when he returns from the mines. In an effort to remain professional and detached, I don’t bothered changing out of my work clothes like I usually do.

While I sit there, staring at the blinking cursor, the house ticks and cracks as the wind outside picks up, amplifying the silence of my empty house. Reminding me again how alone I am.

Getting up, I pour a glass of wine, hoping it might help while I type out the details of my mother’s murder.

Glass in hand, I stride over to the living room and flick on the TV for company while I work. As I toss the remote on the couch, something by the front door catches my eye.

A piece of paper lies on the floor. As if it’s been shoved under the door. I hadn’t seen it earlier because I always enter through the garage.

Frowning, I hurry over and pluck it up. It’s crisp and white and folded in half. An innocuous piece of A4 copy paper.

Until I unfold it.

Three words stare back.

And I’m startled by how fast a harmless piece of paper can turn sinister.