Page 78 of Blindsided By You

From the beginning, we’ve both let our fears and insecurities win. Jenna holds me at arm’s length, scarred by her ex, keeping me in a place where I can’t hurt her like he did. But I can wait. I’ll show up every day until she sees I’m nothing like the bastard who left her. I’m anchored here in Cluanie, ready to prove she’s not just everything I’ve wanted—she’s more than I dared dream possible.

For me, years of not feeling good enough, and my failure to meet others’ expectations, have ground down my self-esteem until it’s a fragile shell, easily damaged. I let the opinions of people who don’t matter get to me.

My father’s words, so often hurled at me like stones: “You need to toughen up, Geordie.” Never thought I’d find wisdom there. But now, with Jenna, I do need that grit. Nothing in my life has ever mattered more than making this real with her, and that means finding my backbone. What others have to say about us isn’t my business, or my problem.

Physical weariness finally claims the win over my churning thoughts. I drift for an hour, maybe two, until movement in the dark pulls me back. The wind no longer screams at the mountain. It’s dropped to energetic bickering and through it comes the rustle of a sleeping bag as Brandon shuffles himself towards the tent’s entrance. I push myself up, catching his outline, a deeper shadow against the nylon walls.

“Sorry, mate.” I hear the rasp of him zipping a jacket. “Gotta take a piss.”

“No worries,” I say. “Take the headlamp, eh? It’s black as the devil’s ball sack out there.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m pretty good in the dark. Back soon.”

Brandon unzips the door, fastens it again, pausing in the porch to pull on boots before the weather swallows the sound of his footsteps.

“How long were you planning to ignore me, MacDonald?” Kyle’s voice in the darkness startles me. He waits and when I ignore his question, chuckles in response to my silence. “Look, mate, you and I both know Jenna’s never going to let me into her pants. And I might have a reputation as a horny bastard, but I’ve never once tried it on with someone else’s girl.”

“Do you think everyone who saw her standing on your doorstep this morning knows that? Given your reputation?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Everyone? No bastard’s out of bed at seven on a Sunday morning in Cluanie. Even if they were, so what if someone saw her? Does it really matter what they think? The only thing that matters here is what you think.”

“The guys all had plenty to say about it.”

Half an hour into our drive, they finally turned their attention from winding me up to giving Nathan a hard time. It would have gone on longer if they hadn’t pounced on him after he asked Connor if he’d packed bear repellent, triggering unbelieving laughter and merciless taunting that hounded our poor naïve Kiwi boy the rest of the way to the mountain.

“Yeah, well, that’s a good sign, you see,” Kyle says. “If there was any truth in it, they wouldn’t have said a thing. You know we only take the piss when we’re sure it’s not going to blow up in our faces. Believe me, if they thought Jenna had done anything more than sleep in my spare room, there would have been silence like the grave in that van.”

I grunt noncommittally. I know Kyles’s right—there’s an unspoken code around taking the mick—but damned if I’ll admit it to him. Still, my resentment and anger begin to filter away. He may be a dick at times, but he’s talking common sense on this one.

“What I’d really like to know is how you’re managing to dodge that savage little bastard?” he says.

“Razor?” I can’t help a laugh. “Better not let him hear you call him that.”

“Nah, that fucking dog of his,” he says. “I’ve still got the bloody scar from the bastard’s teeth.”

“Just call me the dog whisperer.”

“I think that’s your missus, actually. Dora wouldn’t leave her side from the moment she set eyes on her. Only one under my roof who slept with Jenna last night—the bloody dog. The little traitor.”

We fall back into silence, but now, instead of an invisible barrier stopping me from grabbing Kyle—and risking a charge of assaulting a police officer (does that even count when he’s off duty?)—the quiet feels more like the old ease between mates, where conversation isn’t necessary.

Tension ebbs away, my racing brain finally slowing. For the first time in hours, a blanket of relaxation settles over me. Even my aching body niggles at me less—the bruises and scrapes, the battle scars from yesterday’s game, the tightness in my calves from today’s steep climb, all subdued as I doze a little.

I’m nearly asleep when the rumble of Kyle’s voice tugs me back.

“The lad’s been gone a while. Think I better go check on him?”

I’m jolted wide awake. How long since Brandon left? Is it two minutes or ten? Way too long for a guy taking a quick slash. I feel a rush of guilt; I’ve been so deep in my own world Ididn’t notice.

“Shit.” This has a bad feeling about it. “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” I say, as Kyle taps his phone and weak torchlight bounces off the tent roof.

I unroll my jacket, which I’ve been using as a pillow, and heave it on. I grapple in the pocket, finding a beanie and gloves. My headlamp is in the other and I yank it on over my hat. Kyle shuffles forward, unzips the door, and we sit side by side in the opening to the porch, pulling on boots in grim silence.

“Stick together, yeah?” he says, as we emerge from the tent to stand facing out into the blackness, remnants of sleety rain cutting across the twin circles of light from our headlamps. “Jenna will fucking kill me if I don’t bring you home in one piece.”

Chapter 42

JENNA

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