Fearless Maverick (27 page)

 
          
Not
even close.

 
          
Alex
hurled the last dart and hit an inch off bullseye—not bad for left-handed. Then
he ambled forward, past the old beat-up wreck in the corner, and wriggled the
darts from the cork.

 
          
‘I
don’t feel like driving.’ Alex offered up the darts to his friend. ‘Want a
throw?’

 
          
Eli
tugged his ear. ‘I need to rush out and buy a hearing aid. Did you say you don’t
feel like
driving
? Has your arm got
worse? I thought you were fine for everyday conditions.’

 
          
He
gave a shrug that let Eli know that wasn’t it.

 
          
Alex
sat on a stool and twirled the darts between his fingers, watching the red and
black feathers swirl one way, then the other, while he thought over what Libby
had said … about Annabelle and Carter and Eli. He couldn’t get her words out of
his mind.

 
          
‘Have
you ever let a woman get to you?’ Alex finally asked.

 
          
‘Get
to me?’

 
          
‘You
know. Get into your blood. Screw with your brain. She haunts me, Eli, and, I
tell you, I’m done with it. I want her gone—’ determined, he flung all three
darts at the board at once ‘—out of my head.’

 
          
Eli
pulled up a stool. ‘You mean out of your heart.’

 
          
Alex
stood to retrieve the darts. ‘Don’t talk to me about what I think you’re going
to talk to me about.’

 
          
‘In
three years, that’s the first time I’ve heard you ramble.’

 
          
Alex
grunted and, darts in hand, took up his position behind the line. ‘That’s her
fault.’

 
          
‘You’re
one stubborn SOB, you know that?’

 
          
‘Nothing
but compliments today.’ He threw the darts, one, two … When the last one hit
the wall, he took stock and caught Eli’s eye and apologised, which he didn’t do
often.

 
          
‘Sorry.
I’m out of sorts today.’

 
          
‘You’ve
been on your own a long time, Alex.’

 
          
Halfway
to the dartboard, Alex stopped and looked at his friend hard. ‘You’re not going
all Dr Phil on me, I hope.’

 
          
‘What
is it about Libby that frightens you?’

 
          
‘Why
would I be frightened?’

 
          
‘Make
that terrified.’

 
          
Alex
wriggled the darts out again. ‘I simply know what I’m capable of.’

 
          
Or
he thought he’d known.

 
          
She’d
asked him if she was protecting them both and she’d had a bloody good point. He
loved being with her. He couldn’t imagine finding that kind of connection
again. But he wouldn’t pretend that he could promise anything and Libby had
known it. He didn’t do commitment unless it was to the track.

 
          
‘If
you ask me,’ Eli said, ‘and you did, you need to look at this from a wider
perspective.’

 
          
‘It’s
cut and dried. She wants something from me that I simply can’t give.’

 
          
‘Commitment.
Maybe marriage.’

 
          
That’s
what she wanted, all right. Then, like magic, the goodbye note and door shut in
her face would be forgotten.
Poof!

 
          
Alex
pointed out, ‘I’ve known her a matter of weeks.’

 
          
‘And
despite that she put her reputation on the line when she agreed to that early
evaluation.’

 
          
‘That
point is moot.’

 
          
After
he’d hurt his shoulder again—catching Libby when she’d spilled off the patio—her
evaluation had meant nothing. He’d had to start physio again. But he’d needed
to work with someone else. He couldn’t abide any more distractions. His life
had become too complicated as it was.

 
          
Eli
pushed up to his feet, walked around the stool and crossed his arms. ‘Right.
You don’t want to drive. Seems like you don’t want to talk. I’m sure you don’t
want to sit around all week wishing you could swap these toys for a chance to
be with her again.’ He paused to consider. ‘Did you tell her you understood how
she felt?’

 
          
‘I’m
pretty sure I showed her, Eli.’

 
          
‘Did
you say you were sorry? It’s not so easy for us guys, I know.’

 
          
Alex
was about to say yes, he’d apologised, and more than once. But then the words
slipped away and he was left with the image of Libby, sitting beside him while
he screeched around that private Gold Coast track. He was struck by the memories
of how exhilarated and, to some extent, shaken he’d been afterward, knowing he’d
never shared anything like that kind of experience before.

 
          
Wondering
more, he angled his head.

 
          
Was
he ….could he be … in
love
? Did he
love
Libby Henderson in the forever-after
way? Marriage, family, ‘can I truly move on from my gritty childhood’ way? She
brought out emotions and admissions no one else could.

 
          
But
then another image faded up … Annabelle. And the old scarred memories that he
wished to Hades he could forget came crashing down again. All those years ago
Annabelle had so desperately wanted to be part of his ‘cool’ crowd. Instead of
listening to her, protecting her that night, he’d shoved her off home—shut the
door in her face—and continued on with his own thing. As if it were yesterday
he remembered the next morning, running from the police in that beat-up blue
sedan over there, then facing the truth about the obscenities that had occurred
the night before.

 
          
He’d
felt responsible for so much of Annabelle’s hurt and shame. If he hadn’t turned
her away, she wouldn’t have been beaten by that worthless sod who’d dared call
himself their father. Jacob wouldn’t have had to bear the guilt of committing
patricide, even if he was subsequently acquitted of all charges. Self-defence.
He’d defended Annabelle. Defended them all. And Alex had lacked the courage to
apologise to his twin for casting her off that night, for handing her over to
that animal on a platter.

 
          
They
all had their wounds. But was it too late to talk about it now? To give a part
of himself he hadn’t ever thought worth giving.

 
          
Alex
dropped his head into his hands and, his chest aching, groaned aloud, ‘Is it
too late?’

 
          
‘I
don’t think so,’ Eli replied. ‘But do it soon, mate. For both your sakes.’

 
          
After
Eli left, Alex went into his office and clicked into his email account. He
brought up Annabelle’s address but then his gaze flicked to the phone. His
sister, once so lively, was so reserved these days. She preferred a less
personal form of communication but this time he needed to hear her voice, and
she needed to hear his.

 
          
He
punched in her quick dial, but when his stomach flipped he disconnected and
dropped the phone on the desk. After such a long silence, did he want to do
this?
Could
he bring up the most
traumatic night of both their lives and be certain it wouldn’t do more harm
than good? What if she confirmed what he’d always feared most? That she hadn’t
forgiven him for thrusting her aside. Letting her down.

 
          
Just
like he’d let Libby down.

 
          
His
gut churning, Alex fell into the chair and held his brow.

 
          
These
past weeks, this unease about the past had built until now he felt as if he
were drowning. At this moment, it pressed down so heavily he could barely
breathe. Even if Annabelle’s reaction was less than accepting, he
had
to get this off his chest. He had
never meant to hurt his sister.

 
          
And
Libby …?

 
          
Setting
his jaw, he collected the phone, punched in the quick dial again and, on
tenterhooks, waited to hear if Annabelle picked up when she saw his ID.

 
          
Six
rings. Seven.

 
          
A
click and then …

 
          
‘Alex?
Is that you?’

 
          
‘Annabelle.’
His pent-up breath came out
in a rush. ‘It’s good to hear your voice.’

 
          
‘Do
you know what time it is? What’s wrong?’

 
          
He
glanced at the wall clock and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t considered the
time difference. She’d be half asleep. His throat tightened. Maybe he ought to
phone back.

 
          
‘Alex?
Are you all right?’

 
          
Concern
had deepened her tone. If he hung up now, she might be up half the night
worrying. This might feel a thousand times more difficult than it should be
but, for better or worse, he was committed.

 
          
He
cleared his throat, pushed to his feet and rushed a hand through his hair.

 
          
‘There’s
something I need to say. I’d rather say it in person, but I’m afraid it can’t
wait.’ This had waited long enough. He swallowed his fear and confessed after
twenty long years.

 
          
‘Annabelle,
I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I turned you away.’

 
          
A
long silence echoed down the line before, sounding unsure, uneasy, his sister
replied, ‘What are you talking about?’

 
          
‘That
night.’ The night no one ever mentioned. ‘I’m sorry I was a jerk and booted you
out of that party when I should have taken care of you. I’m sorry—’ His voice
caught and he found himself swallowing hard against the pit in his throat. ‘I’m
sorry I wasn’t there for you afterward. I didn’t know …’ He exhaled and,
broken, admitted, ‘I felt guilty … I didn’t know what to say. How to say it.’

 
          
When
more silence wound down the line, a withering feeling sailed through him. He
shouldn’t have rung. Annabelle had built up a wall just as he had done. He had
no right trying to break it down after so long. He should have left this buried—

 
          
But
then he heard a snuffle, then a sigh, and a spark of hope lit in his chest.

 
          
‘All
these years,’ Annabelle murmured, her voice soft and thick, ‘I thought you were
angry with me for causing so much trouble that night.’

 
          
Astounded,
Alex coughed. ‘What?
No
. I was never
angry with you. I was angry with me.’

 
          
‘We
were children.’ He heard the strain in her voice and imagined the glistening
tears edging her eyes. ‘It was nobody’s fault.’

 
          
Wondering,
Alex’s hand tightened around the phone. Nobody’s fault? Surely she hadn’t
forgiven their father. But something kept him from asking. William Wolfe was
the monster behind all this pain, but Alex didn’t want that name mentioned in
this conversation. This was about him and Annabelle. About finally making it
right between brother and his wounded and much loved sister.

 
          
‘Can
you forgive me?’ he asked, trying not to flinch as his mind’s eye called up
that single red welt marring her still-beautiful face.