The One That Got Away (2 page)

“
Dad!
Get out of my fucking room!” Will yelled, his temper slipping
out of his control. Embarrassment burned his cheeks, and fear for
Cammy throbbed in his heart.

“
Your
fucking room!
Yours
?”
his dad bellowed. “Who pays for this house—eh? You bloody
worthless shit—”

Will
swallowed hard when his father galloped into the room and over to
him. He turned to shove Cammy through the door and to safety. Her
hazel eyes no longer held the playful sexiness they had before. She
looked terrified, and Will hated it.

He
hated his dad.

“
Go!”
he said. She looked behind him, and yelped. Will felt the blow to his
head like a sledgehammer. He dropped to his knees and tried to block
out the screams coming from Cammy.

God,
he loathed that she had seen this. She had always known what his
father was like, having kissed many of his bruises, but she had never
seen his father beat him before. Will felt impotent, and enraged
because of it.

“
Go
home…I’ll be okay,” he shouted, even though he was
wondering just how the fuck he was going to survive this particular
beating of his dad’s. When Cammy turned, Will almost ran with
her.

Tonight,
he thought.
Tonight
we’ll run—together.

Chapter
One

Ten
years later

Will
came awake suddenly, his dream—the one he had had many a time
over the years—never failed to stab regret into his heart. The
cruel memories of Cammy and her gentle touch were never far from his
mind, but during sleep—that was when her touch, her kiss, her
perfect eyes taunted him until he woke covered in sweat and angry to
his core.

And
this morning was no different. In fact, it was worse.

Will
dragged himself from the hotel bed and wandered into the bathroom.
The yellow glow of the strip bulb made him look pale and tired in the
mirror, the sheen of sweat covering his brow glittered in the shitty
light. His dark blonde hair lay limp on his head, and dangled into
his eyes. It was too long. He looked like a mess. But what did he
care? He had no one to impress.

Why
his mind still taunted him after so many years, he had no idea. Why
his brain had held onto the memories in such detail, Will didn’t
know. But, fuck, each time he dreamed of Cammy, it was as if she had
been there with him—right up until the moment he woke. It was
cruel, so totally cruel.

Not
even the odd lover Will had allowed himself to take had dimmed the
flame that was Cammy. No matter how many times he had sunk a burning
mouthful of liquor to dull the pain, the memories were still as
strong as the day they had happened.

And
now he hardly drank—the stark pain was never dulled.

He
was back in his old village, near the old cinema where he and Cammy
used to meet, just a road over from where she had lived; the memories
were so strong, they burned his mind and stole his breath. So many
times already in the twelve hours he had been back here, he had
wanted to drive past her house, just to see her—even though he
knew it was useless. She had been a dreamer, a person bent on living;
there was no way Cammy would still be here, in this little town.

And
didn’t that just bite his balls. She was off living while he
pined for her like a lost puppy, like a crack addict who never
stopped craving.

After
his shower, Will got dressed in his runners and headed outside. The
cool autumn air chilled his face and the slight breeze tugged at his
hair. It didn’t take him long to get into his stride. Running
was a source of release for him, a way to close his mind and lose all
thought. He had been running for years, since the day he had left his
village.

His
legs took him all the way along the high street. The old road, where
there had been no more than one shop ten years ago, now held a
plethora of businesses ranging from a kitchen showroom to a café.
Will allowed his eyes to wander up and over the so-very-changed view
as he ran. He marveled at the complete change that this place had
gone through during his time away.

His
gaze fell upon the pub where his father had spent so many of his
evenings, so many nights while Will had been a child home alone. His
heart gave a stutter, and before he had realized it he stopped
running. The old pub stood tall and proud, like a giant over the rest
of the small cottage buildings. Its dark bricks and olde-worlde
lights gave it the impression of history and time. So many times Will
had sat outside in the cold biting English weather, while his father
forgot about him.

Bitterness
bit inside his mind, anger surged into his arms and made fists of his
hands. What he wouldn’t give to tell his father a few things,
what he wouldn’t give to go back a few years and tell his old
man he hadn’t grown up to be a loser like him, he hadn’t
wasted his life on alcohol and violence like him.

But
it was too late.

And
what would the old bastard care anyway? He would probably say his
‘firm hand’ had made Will the man he was.

Will
took a deep breath and forced his feet to work again. He headed out
of town towards the old watermill, and he hoped to God he would be
finished with all the details of his father’s death soon. Then
he could leave, and go back to his flat and his new life.

Just
as he stepped off the pavement to cross the road, a small black car
shot across his path. Will jumped back and ground out a vile insult.
He turned back and headed for the vehicle now pulling up in the pub
car park.

Figures…

Bloody
dick-head was probably drunk already, first thing in the morning.

The
car door opened and Will allowed angry words to fill up his mouth,
frustration at nearly being run over rattling his already tense
nerves. He tugged the door back further and bent to shout in the
driver’s face.

And
then the world tipped sideways. It was as if someone had picked him
up and dangled him from one leg. His words jammed in his throat, and
his mouth dropped open.

Cammy
unfurled herself from the car. Her beautiful light-brown hair, once
so long, now cropped to her shoulders, shone as it always had in the
morning light. She looked up at him with wide eyes and a slack mouth.

And
neither of them spoke for a good ten seconds.

“
Cammy?”
Will breathed, almost forcing her name from his lips. He had fought
to never utter the word, hoping that to never speak it was to forget
it, but as he heard it again on his voice, he realized it felt right.
A deep ache started in his chest, immediately robbing him of breath.

“
My
God…Will?” she whispered, her wide hazel eyes flicking
all over him as if desperate to see all of him at once. She had a
scarf wrapped around the bottom half of her face, almost covering her
mouth, but Will could clearly see her plump lips, her lush mouth, and
he suddenly hungered to taste it again. His fingers twitched to
touch, his heart pounded like a bass drum with the need to drag her
into his empty arms and hold her—to fill the cavity that was
his heart. For so long he had wondered what his reaction to her would
be, what it would feel like when he saw her again. He always thought
he would be happy, pleased to get to see her again.

Never
once—not one fucking time—did he imagine the powerful
surge of lust that battered at his balls and filled his cock. His
hands clenched again as the need to touch her filled his veins. The
feelings were all-consuming and totally unexpected. Instantly he
craved—needed.

But
he took a step back.

The
sparkle dimmed from her eyes and her shoulders sagged. Will wanted so
desperately to run his hands through her hair and stroke her soft
skin. But what if she was married? What if—in the last ten
years—she had gotten on with her life?

He
hadn’t moved on, but that didn’t mean she would not have
done. God, just to be this close to her was…breathtaking.

“
I
can’t believe-I-” he stuttered like a fool, and…was
he grinning? “How are you?” he asked, while fisting his
hands to keep from grabbing her. She was no different. Apart from the
shorter hair, which was really cute, and the more mature way she
dressed, she looked the same; his Cammy.

Cammy
didn’t mirror his smile; she just stared up at him, confusion
and hurt almost blinding him and robbing him of the rare smile that
was suddenly sliding from his face like melted wax.

She
wasn’t happy?

“
Will—I
don’t believe it,” she breathed.

Will
swallowed when he saw her frown, and the agony in her stare almost
dropped him to his knees with disappointment. He was ecstatic to see
her, she looked…pissed off.

She
didn’t give him a chance to answer her whispered words. She
spun and bent to her car, pulled out a cardboard box and slammed the
door with her foot. The loud bang shook through Will as her cold
treatment chilled him to the bone.

“
What
are you doing here?” She bristled, while keeping her eyes
anywhere but on him. She hugged the box to her chest and Will could
see her fighting with her fury. He almost didn’t know how to
respond for a moment. His heart, which had begun beating madly when
he saw her, suddenly felt like a brick in his chest. What should he
say?

Oh,
well, I ran away from my father that last night we were together—but
you know that since I came to you and asked you to come with me—and
you didn’t. And after that, I lived homeless until someone felt
pity for me and took me in. And now I am a chef.

The
words rang around his mind, but he knew how bitter they sounded. So
he didn’t say anything. She waited, her eyes dimming with every
second, and Will would have given just about anything not to have to
see it.

Please
Cammy…

“
I
came back to close my father’s estate,” he said lamely.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and stepped back as Cammy walked
up to the pub door. “He died, last month,” he added
hollowly, shamelessly hoping those dire words would make her talk to
him.

She
stopped walking and bit her bottom lip before looking back up to him.
Will held his breath as her eyes snared him—held him, as they
always had.

“
I’m
sorry to hear that, William.”

William?
What the fuck?

She
turned away again, and before Will could think better of it he
reached out and pulled her shoulder. Cammy flicked her head around
and glared at him.

“
I
have lots to do. I’m sorry,” she snapped. She rested the
box on her hip and adjusted the scarf to cover her face again, as if
she were cold. It wasn’t cold. She turned away from him again
and Will felt the rejection like a kick in the nuts.

This
couldn’t be happening; he was seeing Cammy for the first time
in ten years, so close to her he could—if he wanted—reach
out and stroke her soft cheek. If he just moved his hand slightly
higher he could sink his fingers into her hair and pull her into the
kiss he had been denied for so long.

But
he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She was distant, cold. She was
so totally different from the Cammy he once knew, he even wondered if
this was her grumpy, surly, secret twin.

“
Don’t
do this, Cammy. I understand if you’re married or something
like that.” He choked the words out, trying to sound cool and
indifferent, but inside a volcano of hurt erupted at the mere thought
of another man having her. But he beat it back and spoke. “I am
just so—”
Happy,
relieved, so completely and insanely glad to see you again…
“It’s nice to see you.” The empty words fell from
his mouth. He was so used to blocking emotion, so used to giving
nothing, that now when he needed to open himself—he couldn’t.