Page 53 of Versions Of Us

I’ve been leaning on the passenger door for no more than five minutes when a familiar black, Ford ranger approaches. It slows down and I let out a groan when I see its hazard lights begin to blink, a burning orange against the grey backdrop of the blackening sky.

I swear this day couldn’t get any worse.

He pulls over behind my car, then steps out onto the road, a cloud of dust pluming around his sneakers. I look away when I see him, gritting my teeth so hard it’s a wonder my jaw doesn’t become locked in position.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I was fine until you showed up.” I know my reaction is childish. I’ve never had the finest defence mechanisms.

He ignores me, walking around to the front end of the car to survey the damage. I dare a glance at him and regret it instantly. He rests both hands on the raised hood of the car, his t-shirt riding up to reveal hard, toned abs. My mind fills in all the blanks involuntarily, reminding me of what’s underneath that white fabric. The large tattoo that winds its way up the side of his rib cage, spanning one side of his broad chest before wrapping around the muscles in his left arm. He’s wearing his favourite red baseball cap backwards, strands of blonde flicking out from underneath.

“Coolant is empty.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I reply, bitterly. Frustrated, I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ve got some in the back. I’ve got it covered. You can leave now.”

I know even as I say this that Henley isn’t going to leave me out here all alone, no matter how much I wish he would. He may have left me six months ago, but my instincts are telling me that he hasn’t completely lost his heart.

“I hate to tell you this, but I think you might have bigger problems.”

“Oh yeah?” I question sarcastically. “Like what? My one true love rolling back into town after ruining my life? Yeah, I’d say you’re right.”

I watch as he takes in an uneven breath, a sadness filling his eyes. My words have hurt him but so they should. I want him to fall apart the way that I did when he walked out on me.

“Your radiator’s completely shot.” His voice is low as he turns his attention back to the car. “Possibly the whole engine.”

“Great,” I mutter.

I desperately want him to be wrong, but I can’t deny that Henley knows his way around a car. The guy has multiple unfinished apprenticeships under his belt and although he could never seem to see any of them through to completion, it kind of made him a bit of a jack of all trades.

“Look, I’m heading back into town. I can give you a ride,” he offers. There’s no emotion in the way he speaks, his actions conveying nothing. “We can call for a tow truck when we get there.”

I bark out a laugh. “We? No.Wearen’t doing anything. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Suit yourself. But there’s a nasty storm on the way.”

“I’d rather be hit by lightning than spend a second in that car with you.” I throw the hood down and grab my bag from inside. Then I storm off in the direction of Cliff Haven. Thunder roars overhead as heavy drops of rain begin to fall, speckling my tank top with wet streaks.

“Kristen.” Henley pleads from behind me. “Let’s just go.”

“I told you I’m fine,” I say boldly.

“Look, you’ve made your point.” He pauses to rearrange his cap the right way around on his head. “You’re an independent strong woman that doesn’t need saving.”

“That’s your only takeaway from all of this?” I shout over the increasing rainfall.

“No. I get it. You hate me,” Henley cries out. “But I’m not leaving you out here!”

“You’ve never had an issue with leaving me before,” I call back over my shoulder, and then he’s standing in front of me, his hand on my left bicep.

I stare at his fingers wrapped around my arm and when he removes them the heat remains, as though his fingerprints have been etched into my skin. My chest heaves as I raise my gaze to his.

Big mistake.

His irises are more potent than I remember, clearer than the bluest of oceans. He frowns and I see a sincerity within them that shakes me, an unexpected honesty.

I see the old Henley. Somehow, somewhere underneath all this bravado he’s still in there. His shoulders hunch as he sighs. “Please, Kris. Get in the car.”

We’re both drenched, the rain falling faster and harder now, but I’m too stubborn to back down from this fight. Maybe we both are. Because as I try to push past him, he bends, throwing his arms around my thighs and hoisting me over his shoulder.

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