Until Harry (2 page)

“Lane, darling, please talk to me,” my uncle pleaded. “You aren’t happy. I can see it in you.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Harry,” I sighed. “It’s just taking me longer to settle in here than I thought it would.”

My uncle dead-panned, “You moved to the city four years ago.”

“So?” I grunted. “It’s a different country. It’s still a lot for me to get used to.”

“Are you sure?” my uncle pressed. “Maybe you should talk to your nanny – she’s very good in situations when you’re sad.”

An alarm went off in my head.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. I don’t want to speak to the Irish Oprah. She’ll just nit-pick and I don’t want that. You know she will talk me into getting on a plane and coming home. She has a gift, and I’m not letting her sway me.”

“Then tell me what’s going on – please?” he pleaded. “I can sense something is off with you. Did something happen?”

“I’m. Fine,” I assured him, then decided to put him out of his misery. “I just had a bit of a weak moment and thought about doing something silly, that’s all.”

“Explain,” my uncle almost growled. “Now.”

I gnawed on my lower lip and brought the volume of my voice way down so the other customers in Starbucks couldn’t hear me. “
I ha
d a dream about him last night, and I woke up in a cold sweat. For a second, for a split second, I thought about taking some pills. Before you freak out and demand I come home, know that I know it was a very serious thought, and I’ve booked a session with a therapist to talk about it.”

“Lane,” said my uncle firmly.

“I’m fine – I just want to talk to a therapist about it.”

My uncle blinked. “It may help if you talk to Ka
—
”

“No.” I cut my uncle off. “I can’t.”

“Lane
—
”

“No, Uncle Harry, I don’t want to see or speak to him. Please. I can’t.”

My uncle grumbled. “Okay. Fine.”

I groaned. “You do this at least once a week. When will you give up on getting me to talk to him?”

“When I’m dead and buried.”

“Don’t talk like that.” I wagged my finger at him. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Uncle Harry,” I whimpered as I was pulled from my memory and brought back to the present. I moved closer to the coffin, my stomach brushing against the wood. “I’m . . . I’m
so
sorry I wasn’t here.”

Remorse filled me, and in that moment I was sick with myself. I hadn’t been here for him when he needed me most. I’d put my own selfish needs above a man who had done nothing but love me all of my life.

A soft cry came from behind me, then I felt arms wrap around my body. I had no idea who was comforting me. I could smell the aftershave he wore, which cloaked around me just like his arms did. I placed my hands on top of the hands that rested on my stomach.

“It’s okay, my love.”

Daddy.

I burst into tears and, turning into my father’s embrace, I wrapped my arms around his waist. My father held me and swayed us from side to side until my sobs became sniffles. After a few minutes I turned and looked back to my uncle. I placed my hand on top of his head, squeezing my eyes shut when I found it was ice-cold to the touch.

I reopened my eyes and looked at his handsome face.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, leaning over and kissing his soft cheek. I then gently pressed my forehead to the side of his head. “I’m
so
sorry.”

I let everything go and cried and cried and cried.

I had wept when I read Lochlan’s letter, but it was nothing compared to the emotion upon seeing my uncle. I was just short of wailing in sorrow. I was heartbroken, and the more I looked at my wonderful uncle, the more destroyed and empty I felt inside.

“How was your flight?” a voice asked from the parlour
doorway
.

I didn’t need to look to know it was the voice of my brother Layton. I hadn’t heard his voice in close to a year, but it was still the same. It was just a little huskier, probably from his bad habit of smoking. That wasn’t surprising, though. He was twenty-nine now and had smoked for as long as I could remember.

“Long,” I replied to Layton without looking away from my uncle.

My father stayed behind me, holding me tightly. I was aware that the close contact was probably going to change after my uncle was buried in the cemetery tomorrow, but I didn’t linger on it.
I didn’t
see eye to eye with my parents, my nanny or my brothers, but right now I wasn’t thinking of our differences; I was thinking of my Uncle Harry.

“Where is your suitcase?”

I tensed a little at the sound of my mother’s voice, then murmured, “At the Holiday Inn.”

I heard a snarl. “You’re staying in the hotel, and not
here
?”

I exhaled a tired breath. “Don’t do this now, Lochlan. Please.”

He didn’t listen.

“You’re
not
staying in a poxy hotel—”

“Lochlan.” Layton’s stern voice cut our brother off. “We’ll
discuss
it
later
.”

Silence.

I closed my eyes when I heard the pounding footsteps of
Lochlan
as he stormed out of the room and down the hallway into the sitting room, slamming the door behind him. I wasn’t surprised that he walked away. Lochlan might be the temperamental brother, but Layton’s word was law. He was the only person who got through to Lochlan when he stepped over the line. I tried not to let my brother, or his outburst, bother me, so I focused completely on my uncle.

“I was waiting for your email,” I crooned to him and waited for his reply, even though I knew it would never come.

My father squeezed me. “It was sudden, sweetheart.”

I felt ill.

“How did it happen?” I asked the dreaded question that was on my mind from the minute I’d read Lochlan’s letter two days ago.

“A heart attack,” my father exhaled. “He felt no pain. It
happened
in his sleep.”

A heart attack,
I silently repeated.
That’s what took my uncle.

I gnawed on my lower lip as I glanced at his attire. I couldn’t help but grin as I took in the thick fleece jumper that I’d knitted him when I was sixteen. He’d loved it, and no matter how many times I’d told him to bin it, he’d refused. He’d said it was the best present he had ever received, which caused me to feel bad for him because it was downright disgusting-looking. I couldn’t knit to save my life.

My nanny forced the unholy task of knitting upon me during the summer I turned sixteen. I was
more
than awful at it, but my nanny didn’t care. She made me do it every weekend with her and her friends, who combined had three hundred plus years on me. If my nanny heard me say that, she would whack me.
I i
nwa
rdly giggled to mysel
f at the silent jab and shook my head good-naturedly.

“Him and that bloody jumper,” I muttered.

Soft chuckles filled the parlour then, and it helped take some of the hurt and tension away for a few fleeting moments.

When I was ready, I took a steady breath, then turned to look at the faces I hadn’t seen in the flesh for six years. The first person I saw was my mother. She looked older than her fifty-four years, but no doubt my uncle’s passing had added to the lines on her still beautiful face. My nanny, who was next to my mother, still looked the same as she had the day I left. My second brother was different. He was muscular . . .
very
muscular. He’d been overweight the last time I’d seen him, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

“Jesus, Lay, did someone buy you a gym membership?” I asked, stunned.

My father burst into laughter behind me while my mother and nanny covered their mouths and tried to muffle their giggles. My brother smirked at me, but his aqua-blue eyes shone brightly.

“I couldn’t be the fat twin forever, now could I?” he asked, tongue-in-cheek.

I playfully grinned. “I guess not. You look great.”

Layton winked. “You too, sis.”

My lip quirked for a moment, then I turned and looked at my father. His handsome face was the same, just hairier and fuller. His entire body was fuller.

I blinked. “While Layton hit the gym, you hit the pub and chippy. Huh?”

My father gently clipped me around the ear. “Cheeky brat. I’ll have you know a few layers of fat never hurt anyone. It keeps me warm on these cold winter nights.”

“I’m teasing,” I chortled, and hugged him.

I liked that he was fuller; there was more of him to snuggle.

My brother, mother and nanny were in a fit of laughter a
t m
y
teasing, and it took them a few moments to calm themselves.
M
y n
anny walked towards me when she was at ease and pulled me into her warm embrace.

“Hello, me darlin’,” she crooned.

I closed my eyes and gave her a tight squeeze as I got lost in her soothing voice. My nanny was from Crumlin in Dublin, Ireland. Her accent was thick as ever – even though she had lived in England the past fifty years, she never lost her Irish brogue and I loved that about her.

I smiled affectionately. “Hey, Nanny.”

When my nanny let go of me, Layton was right there, gathering me up in his thick, muscled arms. I yelped a little when he lifted me clean off the floor and held me in mid-air like I weighed nothing.

“Can’t breathe,” I playfully wheezed.

My brother set me down and snorted, “Little terror.”

I teasingly grinned, then lost it and replaced it with a bright smile for my mother when she approached me. I was expecting her to smile at me and possibly be a little teary, but I definitely didn’t expect her to burst into tears as she hugged me, which is exactly what she did.

“Welcome home, baby,” she wept. “I’ve missed you
so
much.”

I folded my arms around her small body and squeezed. “I’ve missed you too, Mum.”

That was the God’s honest truth. I did miss her. We didn’t agree on my living away from home, but she was still my mother, and I loved her dearly. She held onto me for a long time as she cried. Sh
e k
ept pulling back from our hug, looking at my face, then throwing her arms back around me and squeezing me as tightly as she possibly could. It was like she couldn’t believe I stood in front of her. That made me both happy and sad. Happy because she was happy to see me, and sad because it was my fault that she rarely got a chance to see me in the first place.

You have your reasons,
I reminded myself.

I stroked her back. “It’s okay, Mum.”

Nothing was okay, but it felt right to say it.

When we eventually separated, I looked from my family to my uncle and frowned. “I guess the only person left for me to greet is Lochlan.”

A throat cleared from behind me. “Not quite.”

Oh, no,
I silently pleaded.
Please, God, no.

I felt my eyes widen as his voice encircled me like a warm
blanket
. No matter how many years went by, I would know his voice even if it were a whisper. I slowly turned, but I froze when I saw him standing in the doorway of the parlour, leaning against the panel with his hands jammed into the front pockets of hi
s jeans.

His eyes,
my mind whispered.
What’s wrong with his eyes?

There were many things that I loved about the man before me, but his eyes were by far my favourite. They were the first things I looked at whenever I saw him. There was always a mischievous glint in his whisky-coloured eyes that only I could see because I looked hard enough. It was a glint that told me his soul was alive and
thriving
, but what I saw now caused me to shiver.

There was no glint, gleam or light of any sort in his eyes. They were dead and reflected the clouded grey skies that often hung over York. They were as captivating as they were haunting.

Even though I moved thousands of miles away to escape him, every day for the past six years I woke up seeing those hazel eyes and fell asleep hearing that soothing voice. I couldn’t shake him whether I was half a world away or in the next room.

I lived and breathed Kale Hunt, and it was killing me.

“Kale,” I managed to whisper as I stared at the first man to ever break my heart.

He gazed at me, then with no trace of emotion he robotically blinked and nodded in greeting. “Welcome home, Laney Baby.”

CHAPTER TWO

Six years old (twenty years ago)

L
ane? Where are you?”

I placed my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut and tried to contain my sobs, but couldn’t. They racked through my body because my head hurt so bad. Rubbing it didn’t make the pain go away and only worsened the throb.

I opened my eyes when an arm slid under my knees, then another slipped around my back. I yelped when I was suddenly lifted up into the air, and instinctively latched my arms around the neck of the person who lifted me up. I looked at the person’s face, and when bright hazel eyes shone back at me, I cried.

“Kale!”

Kale Hunt was my best friend in the whole wide world. If
anyone
could make me feel better when I was hurting so bad, it was Kale. He was always the one to take my tears away and put a smile on my face.

I buried my face into the crook of his neck and sobbed like my world was ending. Kale walked over to a desk in my classroom. He sat me on his lap, and hugged my body to his. He rocked me from side to side until I was calm enough to sit up without snotting and blubbering everywhere.

I looked to Kale when he handed me some tissue from his pocket. After wiping my nose and face clear of tears and snot, I blew my nose and sniffled before crumpling the used tissue.

“What happened to you?” Kale asked me, his concern laced through his words.

I continued to sniffle but remained silent and still. I didn’t want to tell him because I would get in big trouble, and he would
probably
shout at me. I didn’t want to be shouted at.

“Lane?” Kale pressed when I turned my gaze from his. “What. Happened?”

I felt my lower lip wobble, and he sighed.

“I’m not mad at you,” he softly assured me, “but you
need
to tell me what happened. Anna O’Leary came and told me that you ran in here from the yard and that something happened. Tell me what. Please.”

“I . . . I was playing skipping with Anna O’Leary and Ally Day when Jordan Hummings took our rope and ran away.” I lowered my head until my chin touched my chest. “I chased after him and tried to get it back, but Jordan fell and said it was my fault, so he punched me in my head and now it
really
hurts.”

Kale’s hold on me tightened.

“Jordan Hummings?” he growled. “The boy in
my
class?”

I slowly nodded.

That’s why I was so scared; Jordan was a big boy like Kale.

“He
hit
you?” Kale asked, his voice a snarl.

I began to cry again when Kale’s anger became evident. He quickly lost the livid look on his face and just as quickly put his arms back around me. He hushed me, said sweet things to me and that he was going to make everything better.

I believed him.

“Come with me,” he said, and stood up, then settled my feet on the floor. “My playtime is over in a few minutes, so I have to do this quick.”

Kale was in big boy classes, and I didn’t like it. He had to be in big boy classes, though, because he was nine years old and had to learn big boy things . . . like maths. When I start year 2 classes next year, Kale and I will have the same yard time and can play together all the time. He told me so.

“Where are we going?” I asked Kale as he threaded his fingers through mine.

He grunted in response as he led me out of my classroom and down the long corridor to the exit door that opened up to the
playground.

“I’m going to fix what happened to you,” he said as he pushed the door open and stepped through it.

I gripped his hand tightly as we walked around loads of children who were playing chase, hopscotch and skipping. We stopped at the girls who were skipping in the spot I’d been skipping on a while ago.

“Hey, girls, have either of you seen Jordan Hummings?” Kale asked.

I didn’t know who they were, but they were older than me. They might have even been in Kale’s class because they both smiled wide at him when he spoke to them. I narrowed my eyes at them and pressed closer to Kale’s side. I didn’t like that way they were looking at him. They looked a little
too
happy to
see him.

“Hey, Kale.” The girl with the bright red hair and lightly freckled skin beamed. “I did actually. He’s gone behind the prefabs with his friends. I’m not sure why, though.”

Kale smiled to the redhead. “Thanks, Drew.”

Drew’s smile touched her ears. It was that big.

“Anytime,” she replied, tucking a piece of her luscious hair behind her ear, a coy smile on her lips.

I didn’t like Drew; I didn’t like her at all.

I tugged on Kale’s hand when he didn’t move. He was just standing there, looking at this Drew girl with a weird, goofy look on his face, and it made me mad.

“Kale!” I snapped.

He jumped a little, then looked down at me and blinked as if he’d forgotten I was there.

“She is
so
cute – is she your sister?”

Kale looked away from me and back to Drew when she spoke.

“Lane? She’s actually my best friend. I’m really close with her brothers and family. She
is
pretty much my sister.”

The look of admiration Drew shot Kale really ticked me off.

“Wow. That’s
really
cute, Kale,” Drew said, and lifted her right hand to her shining red hair, twisting her fingers around the en
d of it.

I wanted to chop the hair off her head. She touched it way too much.

“It-it is?” Kale stuttered, then had to clear his throat because it made a funny noise.

Drew nodded. “Yep. I think it’s really cool that you look out for her.”

Kale acted differently then. He shrugged his shoulders like what Drew said was no big deal and then untangled his hand from mine so he could leisurely drop it over my shoulder. “Well, you know. Someone’s gotta look after her. She’s six but she’s really small for her age. She’s only a kid.”

I frowned up at Kale and decided I didn’t like how different he was around this Drew girl and her friend with blonde hair who did nothing but stand and stare at him since the moment he’d asked where Jordan was.

Jordan.

At the reminder of why Kale was even talking to these girls,
I tug
ged on his hand to get his attention, and when he looked down at me I said, “Jordan.”

Kale blinked, then shook his head clear and set his jaw.

He looked back to Drew. “You said Jordan went behind the prefabs, right?”

Drew bobbed her head up and down. “Uh-huh.”

Kale winked. “Thanks, beautiful.”

He turned to me then and said, “Stay here with Drew. I’ll be right back.”

With that said, he walked around me and headed in the direction of the prefabs. I was on the verge of tears because he’d done something wrong. He’d called Drew beautiful, but that had to be wrong because he said
I
was the only beautiful girl in the world. Just me. He always told me that.

“Did you hear that?” Drew squeaked to her friend and clapped her hands together like a seal at the zoo. “He called me beautiful.
Beautiful
!
”

Drew’s friend jumped up and down and squealed. I resisted putting my fingers in my ears to block out the horrible noise.

“I did,” Drew’s friend said as she too clapped her hands together like a seal. “I
so
did. Oh, my God! He
so
likes you! Did you see how he couldn’t stop staring? You’re so bloody lucky, Drew – he is
gorgeous
!”

I didn’t want to stand there and listen to Drew and her friend as they gushed over Kale, so I ran after him. I heard Drew call for me, but I didn’t turn around to answer her. In fact, I mentally stuck my tongue out at her.

Take that, Drew.

I spotted Kale’s back as he disappeared around the back of the prefabs, so I ran my fastest after him. I got to the back of the prefabs at the same time a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Hold your horses – Kale said you have to stay with
me
.”
I l
ooked over my shoulder and stared up at Drew, who was looking down at me with furrowed brows. Her chest rose and fell rapidly like my own as we both tried to catch our breath.

She lifted her gaze and looked straight ahead. Her mouth formed into the shape of an O before she flung her hand over her mouth and screeched. I jumped with fright and snapped my head forward, but like Drew, I too screeched when I saw what she had.

Kale was in a fight – with
three
boys.

“Kale!” I cried when one of the boys kicked him in the side of his belly.

I tried to rush forward to help him, but arms folded around me from behind.

“Stop!” Drew’s voice hissed in my ear. “You’ll get hurt!”

I didn’t care; I had to help Kale before
he
got hurt.

“Leave him alone!” I screamed at the boys. “Stop it,
please
!”

The noises of punches and slaps filled my ears, and just as I was about to scream again, one of the boys on top of Kale suddenly yelped in pain after receiving a kick between the legs. He fell backwards onto the ground and held both hands between his legs. He didn’t get back up and try to hit Kale again; he stayed down and began to cry in pain.

A few seconds later a second boy fell back off Kale, holding his nose, and he began to cry too, and like the boy next to him, he stayed on the ground and held onto his face as blood began to seep through the fingers he had pressed over his nose.

I didn’t know why, but I held tightly onto Drew’s arms as she bent down and picked me up. She held me to her and tried to turn so I couldn’t see what was happening, but I turned my head just enough to see that the last boy to fight Kale was Jordan Hummings. The boy who stole my skipping rope and punched me in the back of my head.

Kale was on top of Jordan. Both of them had blood on them, but Jordan had a lot more on him than Kale did, and he was crying. Kale was not. Jordan lifted his hands and tried to push Kale off, bu
t K
ale knocked his hands to the side and grabbed him by the collar of his school uniform and held him in place.

“If you
ever
,” Kale bellowed down into his face, “touch my
family
again, I’ll fucking
kill
you!”

I gasped. Kale said a bad word, a
really
bad word. He was going to be in
so
much trouble when his mummy and daddy found out.

“I didn’t touch
anyone
!” Jordan wailed, his hands desperately trying to break Kale’s hold on him.

“You did!” Kale bellowed, grasping Jordan’s collar with his other hand. “You hit Lane! She is only a little girl. She is only
six
, and you punched her in the head!”

Drew gasped at Kale’s announcement and held me to her, rubbing her hand up and down my back. I hated that it comforted me and helped slow my tears. I hated that I was holding onto her, and I hated that it made me feel better. I didn’t want to need Drew to help me, because Kale had said she was beautiful.

“Drew, what are you doing back – 
hey
!” When the voice of an adult bellowed from behind us, I gasped and pressed my face against Drew’s shoulder.

I was frozen with fear as a grown man rushed past Drew and myself and shot over to Kale and Jordan. He pulled Kale off Jordan first and held him to one side, and then he reached down and pulled Jordan up to his feet. Jordan was crying, and so were his two friends who were still on the ground. Kale was the only boy not crying. He was just glaring hard at Jordan and had his hands balled into fists as his chest rose and fell swiftly.

Now that Kale stood up and faced me, I could see his face, and I didn’t like what I saw. He had a little cut over his eyebrow.
A t
rickle of blood ran down from said eyebrow and stopped halfway down his cheek. Both of his eyes were red, a little swollen, and his lips were stained with the blood that was smeared acro
ss h
is mouth. I could see blood stained his teeth too, because he had h
is m
ou
th o
pen as he was breathing heavily.

Now that things weren’t as loud, my whimpers could be heard. Kale turned his head in my direction, and his entire demeanour changed.

“It’s okay, Lane,” he assured me, giving me a wink. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Liar!” I cried. “You’re bleeding! Look at all the blood. You’re probably
dying
!”

The thought of that turned my stomach.

“What the hell happened here?” the man who was holding Kale and Jordan snapped.

I gasped. The man said a bad word too.

“He punched Lane in the back of the head!” Kale stated, throwing his accusation in Jordan’s face.

The man looked at me, then looked to Kale, Jordan and the two boys still crying on the ground. He shook his head and walked forward, pulling both Kale and Jordan with him.

“Everyone to the principal’s office,” he ordered.
“Now!”

The fear that settled inside me was enough to make me want to pass out. Drew set me down on the ground and took my hand as we walked ahead of Kale, Jordan and the man who’d stopped the fight. He called for the other two boys to get up and follow or he’d come back for them.

“Yes, sir,” both of them rasped.

Sir.

The man was a teacher in the school, and he was bringing us to the principal’s office. We were in
so
much trouble.

The next while passed by in a blur. I had to sit in the waiting room to the principal’s office with Kale, Jordan and the two other boys as our parents were called. Drew was sent to class because she’d had no direct involvement in what had happened other than witnessing the fight. She told the teacher what happened and was sent on her way.

I kept my head down, even though the “sir” who stopped the fight told me that I had nothing to worry about and that I wasn’t in a bit of trouble. That made me feel better, but I still felt horrible that Kale was going to get in trouble because of me.