Page 85 of Animal Instincts
The wind smashed into Oliver, dozens and dozens of fists all pummelling him at once. Dark and ominous clouds rolled in off the ocean, whipping up the grey waters to a white topped frenzy. In the far distance, lightening flashed, a jagged line joining an angry sky to an angrier sea. The gusts grew harder, bringing with them the first specks of rain as on the crown of High Top, Oliver fought to stay upright against the onslaught.
James’ words had buried themselves deep under his skin. Oliver hadn’t moved from the sofa as night had retreated and day had crept in. He’d done the right thing. He’d done it for Joss. In time, Joss would thank him. Yet with every repeat of the mantra, his resolve had weakened as James’ words hammered away at him for the bulldozer they were until there had been nothing left but rubble.
Go to him…The command shivered through Oliver as another gust of wind beat against him.
I’m scared…Of rejection, of the scorn he’d see in Joss’ eyes, of Joss shaking his head as he turned away and looked out towards a life that would never include him.
And it was all his fault.
Oliver had haunted his house, going from room to room, chased by James’ words and his own turbulent heart until he could stand it no longer and he’d fled.
High Top… Where he and Joss had walked so many times, hand in hand, talking and laughing, finding joy in the smallest of things. The birds wheeling overhead, the sun shining on the evening sea, Bingo rolling around in the short grass… And the two of them, lying on their backs, their bodies brushing against each other’s as they stared up into the bright blue sky, happiness and contentment warming his heart and soul as the sun had warmed his skin.
He’d thrown away all that happiness, all that contentment, and for what? The calculated, well placed words of an ex lover who’d proved himself a liar and a cheat, and the smug words of a man who thought he knew all the answers to life.
“Christ, what have I done?”
Oliver thrust his fingers through his wind whipped hair. Memories tumbled down on him, and mocked him for his stupidity and his fear.
Soft lamplight illuminating the smile on Joss’ lips and in his eyes… The endless kisses, the little sighs and moans… The taste and scent of him, lighting a fire in Oliver’s heart… Joss yielding and pliant in his arms… The scorching heat of sex that joined not only their bodies but their souls… Snuggles under a blanket as they’d watched the stars… Dinners shared as they talked about their day… All the things that made a life worth living and a man worth loving.
Thunder ripped through the darkening sky, closer this time. Oliver’s breath came fast and shallow; his skin tingled with the electricity sparking in the air. He was stranded out in the open, with no shelter. More thunder, more lightning, raced towards him.
He had to run, and he had to run now.
The storm and the demands of his own heart chased him down, and Oliver ran faster and harder than he’d ever done before, hoping and praying he wasn’t too late.
FORTY-FIVE
Joss nursed his lemonade. He’d been tempted to ask Declan to tip a double measure of vodka into to it, but he had a long journey the next day and he didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, because Joss had the sneaky feeling once he’d had one drink, he’d want another. And another.
The Fisherman’s Arms was filling up fast. It was the last place he wanted to be, surrounded by lively chat and laughter, but Declan had sent him a text, with the reminder that had been more of a threat that he’d see him at 7.30pm.
“Charles said he was going to try and come along this evening.” Declan sipped at his pint, as his eyes scanned the crowd.
“Oh? I wasn’t aware it was a works outing.”
Declan raised a brow, but he didn’t rise to the bait as he turned his attention back to the crush in the marquee.
It was too noisy to chat, and Joss looked around too. His shoulders stiffened, his heart jumped, every nerve in him pulled tight. Short dark hair, tall, broad shoulders… The guy turned and Joss slumped.
Fucking stupid…Of course Oliver wasn’t here, he’d be holed up indoors and hunched over a nasty microwave meal for one.
Good…But it wasn’t good, as much he wanted to feel it in his blood and bones, Joss couldn’t. It was sad and heartbreaking because everything about this whole shitty mess, that didn’t have to be a shitty mess, was stupid and pointless and needless.
Maybe he could go and find Oliver? Maybe he could ask,beg, him to reconsider? Joss’ muscles twitched and quivered, his heart rate spiked… One last chance, throw everything at one final gamble. He threw back the last of his lemonade, ready to push his way through the crowd. His lips twisted in a humourless smile. It was hardly Dutch courage, but it was all he had, so—
No.
The hard force of a heavyweight punch slammed the breath from Joss’ lungs, knocking his feet from under him as he made to stand.
Oliver doesn’t want you…
Joss sucked in a shaky breath as he ran a hand over his face. What the hell had he been about to do? Beg Oliver? No, he’d never do that. There was no going back for them, but there was a way forward, a way out of Love’s Harbour where there wasn’t much love to be found for him.
Joss pulled himself up straight when all he wanted was to crumple into a heap. He had pride, as battered as the marquee under the onslaught of the storm raging outside. He’d cling onto it for the fragile life raft it was because if he didn’t, he’d drown.
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