Page 48 of Just a Little Crush
“You mean you don’t keep them in your car at all times?” I’m teasing, but I can tell from the dark look on his face that he doesn’t appreciate my jokes right now. “Relax, it’s broad daylight, and this road isn’t busy.”
“Those conditions lead to some of the worst accidents. Never be lulled into a false sense of security.”
I roll my eyes and push past him. The verge between the road and the trees isn’t too narrow, but it’s muddy in parts and full of tracks where cars have passed each other. I avoid the worst bits, not keen to roll my ankle any time soon, and keep going a little further along the verge. Even from a distance, it’s impossible to miss the massive gap in the treeline where the old oak once stood proud. On the other side of the road, there’s a huge dent in the hedgerow that brought my beloved car to a standstill. Though the road has been cleared of debris, there’s still a section of the fallen trunk at the side of the road, crudely sawn off at one end.
“For fuck’s sake, this is such a hazard,” Rennie says, immediately taking photos on his phone. “I’ll get onto the council about this.”
“I don’t think I ever realised how big these trees are,” I say, my hands on my hips as I stare up at the towering mass. “No wonder it nearly took me out.”
“They’re dangerous,” he shouts. “I’m going to have them all cut down and make sure this never happens again.”
I spin in horror. “You are not? Please don’t do that, Rennie. They’re beautiful, full of creatures, and they’ve been here forever. It was a freak storm. You’re being ridiculous.” He knows full well it would be madness to chop them all down. This is the sort of thing we don’t let happen in Thatch Cross.
“OK, fine,” he concedes. “I won’t, but I still hate them.” It’s then that I notice his chest heaving, and the scowl he’s been sporting all morning looks more painful than angry. I trudge through the damp grass to his side and rub his shoulder.
“Hey, are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” he shrugs me off and scuffs at the undergrowth with his boot. “I just... I don’t want to be here.”
I crouch a little, so he’s forced to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, then pulls me into his arms. “That was the fucking scariest day of my life, Bec. Getting out of the truck, seeing your car like that, I thought I’d lost you.”
Oh, God. He’s really struggling.
“And you didn’t. I’m here. I’m OK.” I wrap my arms around his waist and tuck my head under his chin. Pressed against him like this, I can hear his heart racing, his breath shallow. I take his hand and guide him over to the fallen trunk. “Come on, let’s sit for a minute.”
It takes a couple of attempts for me to hop up, but Rennie has my back, literally, and gives me a helpful boost before joining me.
I steady myself with my hands at either side, and we sit like that for a while. Just watching, listening, thinking. I’m feeling so damn lucky right now. If I’d been a second faster or slower that day, I don’t know how things might have been.
“I miss my car,” I say. It’s not like me to be sentimental, but I do. I have so many memories of me and Gramps in that car. She was his pride and joy and I’d promised I’d always look after her. “I rang the insurance people, they said she’s in a junk yard in Barton waiting to be scrapped. They’ll pay out, but I’m sad. I never got to say goodbye.”
I know I’m being an idiot. It’s just a box of metal after all, and I should be thankful she kept me safe for so many years. And thankful for Rennie, Alistair Rendall, the sweet gentleman hero, has pulled through for me big time.
He was right, I don’t know how I would have coped if I hadn’t moved into his place. The kissing, the sleeping in his bed, the countless orgasms, those are bonuses on top of his unyielding kindness.
“Are you going to move back home?” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I turn to face him. He looks miserable, hunched over and staring at the ground. “Is that what this mood is about?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“I mean, I need to go back to mine at some point. My stuff is there. I’ve probably got a pile of food rotting in the fridge. The bin needs to be emptied.”
“I’ve handled all of that.” He sets his hand down next to mine, close yet too far.
Rennie hasn’t been easy to read through all of this. Here I was thinking he was just a decent, kind man, while underneath he was keeping some true feelings at bay. Burying them down while putting everyone else first. He’s always wanted what’s best for me, always put my needs before his. I’ve never been bold enough to ask him how he actually feels.
Would he even put himself out there like that? In my heart, I know I don’t want this to end, and I hope he doesn’t either. I reach for his hand and slip my fingers through his.
“Do you want to keep doing this? With me?”
“Like, a friends with benefits thing?”Ouch. That’s not exactly the response I was hoping for.We’ve never discussed what this is, what it could be, but what we’ve started feels like so much more than friends fooling around. Still, this hardly seems like the time or the place to tell Rennie I’m nuts about him.
“How about we head back to yours, have some dinner, and not worry about putting labels on anything? Would that be OK?”
“That sounds great,” he says, hopping down. Standing in front of me, he takes me by the hips and lowers me to the ground, where I find myself in the delicious position of being trapped between his warm body and the log at my back.
