Page 25 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

If Mark had been in his own flat, he would have sat on the couch, drawn his knees to his chest, and wound his arms around them.

God, this is hard .

Sam didn’t remove his hands from Mark’s grasp. He swung his leg over the bench so they faced each other, his gaze locked on Mark’s. “Can you talk about it?”

Mark had thought so, but his throat was tight, and the urge to curl in on himself was overwhelming.

Then Sam lurched up and off the bench, hurrying over to the ice cream van stationed in the car park. A moment later, he was back, carrying two bottles of water. He thrust one at Mark, then retook his seat.

Mark glanced at the bottle. “Is this really vodka? Because I could do with a drink right about now,” he quipped.

Sam arched his eyebrows. “Fine. You wanted to take me to a pub near here, didn’t you? The Wight Mouse Inn? We’ll go there later—as long as I’m driving.”

He sighed. “On second thoughts, I don’t think alcohol is such a good idea.”

The crease between Sam’s eyes appeared. “You don’t have to tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Mark smiled. “Yeah, I do.” He swallowed. “When I was growing up, there was stuff going on at home that I never told a soul about. I couldn’t, because I felt too ashamed.”

Sam said nothing but tightened his grip on Mark’s hand.

“My mum… My mum has a temper.” He drew in a deep breath and raised his chin. “And she took it out on my dad.”

“Oh Mark.” Sam brought Mark’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “Was… was it bad?”

Mark snorted. “Bad? How about bad enough that it sent him to an early grave?”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Oh no.”

Mark closed his eyes, but it was no use. He could still see his father’s haunted expression as he lay in the hospital bed. He opened them, staring at their joined hands.

The last of the bikers roared out of the car park, until all that remained was the ice cream van, and the two of them.

“He never stood up to her, not once. He just took it all. I used to get so angry, wondering why he didn’t just walk out of there.

” He swallowed several times. “I know now. He told me when he was in the hospital. He didn’t want to leave me alone with her.

And there was no way he would ever have challenged her for custody.

The shame was too great.” He kissed Sam’s hand.

“You were right. What man ever wants to own up to being hit by a woman?” Hot tears pricked his eyelids, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Sam leaned forward to wrap his arms around Mark, pulling him close. Mark buried his head against Sam’s neck, fighting valiantly to hold back the tears which threatened to spill. Sam kissed his head, forehead, and cheeks, little murmurs escaping his lips as he comforted Mark.

“It’s okay, baby, he’s free of it now.”

And then the dam burst.

Mark sobbed, his tears falling freely onto Sam’s shirt.

Sam held him close as he cried for his father.

All the pain of those years poured out of him, the feelings of impotence as he stood by and watched his mother hurt his father, first with a vicious tongue, and later with her fists and anything else that was at hand.

Mark had never forgiven her. Even though she had never laid a hand on him, he had drawn away from her, from the day of his father’s death, right up to the present.

He barely said a word when she phoned him once each week, confining his replies to short, clipped sentences or monosyllabic answers.

And it would stay that way.

Little by little, his tears ebbed until they’d dried up completely. He felt limp, wrung out, but happy that he’d finally let go of the emotions he’d bottled up for so long.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Sam murmured into his hair. “It means so much to me.” Then he straightened as four motorbikes drove into the car park.

Mark wiped his damp cheeks with his hand. “Looks like we have an audience.”

“What do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

He managed a grin. “Is that a serious question?” He yelped when Sam smacked his arm. “Hey!”

“We are not spending the whole day in your bed,” Sam remonstrated. “Let’s have a late lunch somewhere, preferably with a sea view.”

“How about fish and chips on Shanklin esplanade?”

It was meant to be a joke, but judging by the way Sam’s eyes lit up, Mark had come up with a good suggestion.

“And then afterward, we’ll go to the amusement arcade. I might even try to win you something from the grabbers.”

Sam laughed. “Have you ever seen anyone win something from one of those? They’re rigged.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun trying.”

And right then, Mark wanted to have some fun.

I feel… light.

He’d never told another living soul about his parents, not even Sonia.

But Sam understands.

Another bond between them.

“You’re not going to win,” Sam said for the third time as Mark fed another pound coin into the grabber machine. He wished he’d never commented on the soft toy Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, and Eeyore, but they’d been part of his childhood.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Mark muttered as he hit the button to send the grabbing arm backward. Then he hit the side button, stopping it after a second.

“You know why people feed so much money to these machines? Because the hooks grab on, they lift the toy for a second or two, and suddenly, your heart’s racing and the old adrenaline is pumping. Then they drop it, and you’re hooked.”

Then Sam’s heartbeat raced when the metal arms hooked themselves around a Tigger. He caught his breath, despite his common sense, and held it as the arm moved toward the chute, still clutching the toy.

It won’t get there.

It’ll drop any second now.

The arms let go—and Tigger disappeared into the chute, landing with a soft whump in the receptacle near their feet.

Sam beamed. “You did it!” He crouched and pushed the flap open to remove the cuddly Tigger. “He’s wonderful. I love him.” He held it against his chest.

“Who said he’s yours?” Mark retorted.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “Choose your next words carefully.”

He chuckled. “I was thinking more along the lines of joint custody. Would that be okay?”

Warmth flooded through him. “More than okay.”

“Then how about we put him in the car, then go for a walk on the beach?” Mark’s eyes twinkled. “After we’ve left the window open so he can breathe.”

Sam burst out laughing. “You’re nuts, do you know that?”

Mark stilled, his gaze focused on Sam’s face. “But you love me.”

There was a drumming in Sam’s chest, and a joy that wouldn’t be contained.

“Yeah, I do.” He moved closer. “You know I said we couldn’t spend all day in bed?”

“Mm-hm.”

He smiled. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Mark’s pupils darkened a little. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Sam nodded. “But we’ll need to make a little detour.”

“Somewhere specific?”

Another nod. “The supermarket.” He cocked his head. “Unless you’ve already got everything we need?”

Mark’s lips parted. “Morrisons is less than five minutes from here.”

He chuckled. “Then why are we standing here?” His heart pounded.

It was time to hand in the V-card.