Page 60 of Secrets of Riverside

CHAPTER

21

Sitting at the dining table, staring at her stone-cold toast and coffee, Millie wished Ebony was back from her holiday; she missed her so much. She also wished things had turned out differently. A whole week and two days had passed since she’d run from Riverside Acres with the shattered pieces of her heart in one hand and her fingernails digging into the flesh of the other. Contrary to popular belief, time wasn’t healing her. Nor was the distance she’d gone and put between Sydney and North Queensland. Between herself and Jarrah. She’d stupidly thought that when she returned to Sydney, it would be easy to forget he existed, and that she would somehow be able to slip back into the mundane day after day of her life and stumble forwards. Oh, how wrong she’d been. But then, how could she have expected otherwise when part of him was blooming to life inside of her?

Furious regret coursed through her. As did red-hot rage. And then there was the tenderness she still harboured for him, swirling amongst it all, painfully reminding her what could have been. Reminding her of what they’d gone and lost. Her mind flashed back to the moment in time his lips had met hers and her fingertips instinctively trailed her mouth as she recalled how powerful his kiss had been. The memory pinched her heart, and forced her to take a breath while blinking the sting of pain from her eyes. In another life, what she’d give right now to be wrapped up in his arms, with her head on his chest, as they tried to decipher the galaxy of stars glimmering above them. In another life, they’d be planning for their baby’s arrival, with joy in their hearts. But so much had happened since the night they’d given in to their desires. She no longer trusted him. And trust was everything. So she just had to find a way to wade through the heartache, but it was so damn hard when she could imagine what it would feel like if he kissed her, like she was his, every single day for the rest of her life.

She had to stop thinking this way, or she was going to drive herself insane.

A knock at the door brought her to her feet. It wasn’t easy to get into the building, unless whoever it was had snuck in, or they lived there. ‘Who is it?’

There was a short pause, then, ‘It’s me, Jarrah.’

Jarrah? Here? At her door. Her heart skidded to a stop and she fought off a sense of hope because happily-ever-afters only existed in fairy tales. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just want to talk, to explain what happened that night.’

Willing herself not to give in to him, she clenched her hands as tightly as her heartstrings as she took cautious steps towards the door. ‘I don’t want to talk to you, Jarrah, so just go the hell away!’

Yes, you do, Amelia, so let him in …

‘Please, Millie, I’ve come all this way, and I’m begging you.’

Tears stung. Covering her mouth, she only just stopped a sob from escaping. She could imagine him, on the other side of the door, his hardworking hands pressed up against it, his cobalt gaze filled with dark shadows.

For a split second, she almost, almost, let him in. ‘I said, go away!’

There was another long, hushed pause. ‘Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll go.’

There was silence and then his footfalls began to fade away, creating a cavernous-seeming distance between them. But she held her ground and didn’t budge an inch. All she had to do was stay strong for the next minute, two at tops, and then he’d be gone. For good.

He deserves to know about his child.

Crossing the room, she hid behind the curtain and watched him take steps across the street. Memories of their past tried to break through. She firmly reminded herself that that was then and this was now. Everything was different. They could never get back to that place. That place where they could have been each other’s entire world. Hardening her softening heart with a sharp intake of breath, she blinked back tears. Not long now and she’d be free of him forever.

But would she ever truly be free of him when she looked into the eyes of her baby?

Their baby.

A rush of desperation had her flipping the narrative. She couldn’t let him leave without telling him the truth, because at least then her conscience would be clear.

‘Jarrah, wait.’ Her voice carried out the window and towards him.

He halted and, spinning around, his gaze snapped up to hers. ‘Millie?’

‘Please come back up.’ Her heart took a flying leap towards him. ‘And I’ll let you in.’

With both her hands going to her belly, she watched him all but run back across the road. He was at her door within thirty seconds. This time, she let him in. He took hesitant steps, his shoulders bunched and eyes downcast. For the length of ten heartbeats, she stood, shell-shocked, staring at him with her hands clenched in her pockets. That familiar, comforting scent of him, of horse and leather and earth, wrapped around her like a warm blanket – she had to remind herself to breathe. In. Out. Slowly. Repeat.

‘Come and take a seat.’ She waved him towards the dining table.

Nodding, he stepped past her, and it was only then that she noticed a ziplock bag clutched in his hand. ‘What’s that?’

He held it up. ‘Evidence.’

‘Evidence of what, exactly?’

He looked her directly in the eyes and drew in the deepest of breaths. ‘My innocence.’ His eyes filled with concern. ‘And who your father truly was.’

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