Page 32 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
My gaze catches on loads of framed certificates on the walls. I’d noticed them earlier when we checked in, but only in passing. I go in closer for a better look.
Wow. I’d expected to see Lucinda, Adam, and Mike’s names on the certificates, but Will has just as many as any of them. He’s an accredited mountain leader, certified in cliff rescue and advance white-water safety and rescue. As well as standard First Aid, he’s also qualified in outdoor management incident skills.
Does Lucas know about this secret life of Will’s?Ididn’t know anything about it, and although it’s stupid, I can’t help feeling a little hurt.
Forget about our one-night stand. We were friends for a long time before that. Why didn’t I even have a clue?
What else don’t I know about?
“Hey.”
I swing around, as Will strolls across the room toward me. Irrational guilt slides through me, as though he just caught me doing something shifty. But since it’s obvious what I was doing, there’s no point denying it. Not that he’s accusing me of anything.
Whatever. I might as well tell him what’s on my mind.
“It’s like you’re two different people.” I wave my hand at the frames. “This isn’t the Will Henderson I’ve known most of my life.”
He stands beside me, and although I’m staring at the framed certificates, he’s not. He’s looking at me. All I need to do is turn my head, and we’re close enough to kiss.
Do. Not. Turn. Your. Head.
“Yes, it is.” His voice is low with a sexy, raw edge, that sends goose bumps chasing over my skin. “This is just the other side of me.”
“But this level of commitment.” I let out an impatient breath, not sure why I’m so bemused by this other side of him.Maybe because he no longer fits into the neat little pigeonhole you shoved him in two years ago?“It’s like you plan on taking expeditions into the mountains or something.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, comprehension hits like a bloody great sledgehammer. Talk about missing the obvious. “Isthat what you’re going to do?”
He grins. “What did you think I was going to do?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were their financial wizard. I didn’t guess you’d be so hands-on.”
“Iamtheir financial wizard.” Then his grin fades. “That was never the reason why I’m involved, though. We planned this all out while we were at Uni. The only reason I’m not here is that when Dad died so unexpectedly, I had to dig in at the company and sort stuff out.”
“Oh.” It had never occurred to me that when he took over his dad’s position, it wasn’t something he’d always planned on doing. Well, it made sense. He was the only child.
Why didn’t I ever ask him, though?We were so close after his dad died, for over a year untilthatChristmas. Then again, he never breathed a word about any ofthis.
I risk shooting him a glance, and there’s a brooding expression on his face. He doesn’t often do serious. Will, like Lucas, is usually the life and soul of any party.
We’re not at a party. And this is a side to him he doesn’t show to the whole world.
A strange, hot pain fills my chest. For some odd reason, I get the feeling he’s holding something back. “There must’ve been a lot to sort out. That was over three years ago.” The week he left Uni.
“Yeah.” He’s focused on the framed certificates as if they’re the most fascinating things he’s ever seen. It’s like he’s fighting an internal battle as to whether to share more with me. It’s hard to keep my hands to myself when I’m dying to wrap my arms around him. And not because I can’t get him out of my mind, even when he’s out of sight.
It’s because, even though things fell apart, he used to be one of my very best friends. And some things don’t change. I hate seeing him like this.Please don’t tell me it’s nothing.
Then he gives a heavy sigh. “I’ve not told anyone else.” Reluctance drips from each word, and alarm streaks through me.What happened?“I only planned on staying at the company for a couple of years, max. But Mum—she had a stroke. She couldn’t work, and I couldn’t leave.”
Shit. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t anything like this. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” This time I reach out and thread my fingers through his. This must have been the reason why he’d sounded so stilted when I asked about his mum the other day.
My stomach churns as I recall the coursework I did on strokes. Why didn’t I pay more attention, instead of sketching in my notepad? “Is she okay?”
“She’s great.” He squeezes my fingers, and it’s crazy how good that feels. And relief washes through me that his mum had suffered from a less devastating type of stroke. “It was sheer bloody luck I stopped in to see her that morning. I found her on the floor—she’d only just passed out. We caught it fast.”
“That’s awful.” Before I can stop myself, my mind fills with the image of my own mum, the last time I saw her in that hospital bed, and phantom fingertips slide over the back of my neck.
“Could’ve been worse. At least I knew what to do.”
