Kate Hewitt - The Chatsfield - Series 2

She had never seen the point of sitting back and blaming her father, her mother, for her situation in life. Not when she could transcend it.

Jasmine, as tragic as her death was, could have done the same. And may well have if her poor decision had not been the first and last poor decision she’d ever made. Life was unfair that way. There were those who made mistake after mistake and came out just fine, and there were those who put one foot wrong and paid a dear cost.

But Jasmine’s hand had not been forced. Not by Zayn, not by anyone.

She burst into a sitting position, and scurried out the door of the tent, shrieking when a fat drop of water landed on her head and rolled down her face. The rain was cold, torrential, creating tributaries that flowed down the side of the embankment, down to the road below. A road that now appeared to be a river.

She looked toward the SUV, but didn’t see Zayn anywhere. Then she looked the other way, and saw nothing but scrub brush and dark clouds. “Zayn!” she called, looking all around, hoping to catch sight of him. But she couldn’t. She didn’t see him anywhere. “Zayn!” She called his name again.

Her voice was swallowed up by the wind, swallowed up by the falling rain.

She pressed forward, moving away from the tent, away from the vehicle. Because she had a feeling he had gone toward the wilderness. Because it just seemed like something he would do. She knew it, as deeply as she knew anything about herself.

In many ways, he seemed to perpetually be wandering the wilderness alone. Standing separate from everyone else, from everything else. From the law, from modern mores, from anything that might interfere with the protection of his country and his family.

A strange realization, followed closely by the realization that she had been doing the same.

Yes, Isabelle was her friend, yes, she had other casual acquaintances. She went into an office every day and worked with people surrounding her. But she was alone. She did not allow people to touch her. Because she was in the wilderness, fighting to survive.

Because she was afraid of revealing weakness, afraid of depending on anyone. Afraid of nearly everything. And so she insulated herself, kept herself separate, so that no one would ever know.

How very strange that the two of them, wandering alone in separate parts of the world, had managed to find each other.

If only she could find him now, in this literal wilderness.

Then she saw him, down on one knee, rain pouring over his back, seeping through his tunic, his head bent low.

“Zayn?” She approached him cautiously, her heart thundering in her temples.

He lifted his head, then straightened slowly. He turned to face her, water drops sliding down his face, a haunted look at his eyes. She blinked back tears, not sure if they had already fallen or not. There was water on her face, but it was very hard to say where it had come from.

They simply looked at each other, an expanse of dirt between them, the rain pouring down on them.

“I wanted to tell you—I needed to tell you—it’s not your fault.”

He shook his head. “You are hardly going to undo sixteen years of guilt with a simple phrase. But you must know I appreciate the effort, Sophie.”

“The effort isn’t enough. I need you to understand it.”

“This has nothing to do with your story. I don’t see why you would care what I think.”

She blinked against the rain. “I care because I don’t think you should carry this burden. I don’t feel like you should blame yourself like this. You can’t live your life for other people.”

“Are you any different? Answer me, Sophie, are you any different?”

“I live for myself, Zayn. How can you ask if I’m different?”

“Do you? I don’t think you do. You are here because of your friend Isabelle, even if you won’t tell me the reasoning. You are questioning me to benefit her. You are afraid to show that you are vulnerable because of what other people might think. You went to university so you can show your father that you were worthy. Yes, Sophie, you do live for other people.”

“How dare you use what I shared with you against me?”

“Is it a bad thing, Sophie? Is it a bad thing to live for others? I have lived for myself, and I’ve never seen anything fruitful come of it. It brought nothing but death and destruction. I will not apologize for living for a higher calling. I am not insulting you by pointing out that you do the same. But I will not allow you to stand there and accuse me of something that you yourself do.”

“She made a choice, Zayn.” Sophie continued as though he hadn’t spoken. Because she didn’t want to process what he had said.

Because he cast her in a different role than the one she had placed herself in. It didn’t make her sound like a hard worker, like an independent person who had made her own choices. It made her sound like someone who was beholden to the expectations of others. Who had only succeeded because she was afraid of what others might think.

Yes, she knew she worried about what others might think, but it was only because she needed them to think highly of her in order to achieve what she needed to. She was using their approval, she was not dependent on it. And that was an entirely different thing.

“And I made choices that delivered her choice to her. We affect the choices others make, Sophie. Your life is a classic example of that. Your father’s actions affected your choices.”

“I make my decisions. I have controlled my life. Nothing controls me.”

Suddenly he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her up hard against his chest. She could feel his heart beating hard against her breast, could feel the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in deep. “Nothing controls you? How about this, habibti . Does this control you? Or are you immune to me?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. In spite of the cold, in spite of the wet, she felt like she was overheating. Felt as though she might melt into a puddle, and flow down the mountainside along with the rest of the rain.

“Who controls you now?” he asked, his voice rough and soft, sending a shiver through her body.

She looked into his eyes, and she was suddenly hit with a swell of longing that overtook her completely. That nearly made her knees buckle, that made her feel as though if she didn’t close this minute distance between them she would die.

She had been in this position once before. With a man’s lips hovering near inches from hers, and she had felt nothing. Nothing but vague curiosity. A curiosity that had been satisfied, to a degree that she had never felt the need to experience it again.

And yet, for all the similarities between these two situations, she knew that the end result would be completely different. She knew she was on the verge of something that would be unlike anything she ever experienced before. And she knew she should turn away from it.

Because there was no hope here, no future.

But they were out in the wilderness together. Two travelers who had been alone for so long, finally meeting in one place. And it would never go beyond here. Would never go back to real life, would never be something that had a future. But there was now.

And she didn’t have to pretend now, didn’t have to act as though she had everything together. Because she had given that up when they’d come up the mountain. Had set it all aside and embraced the freedom in being honest about who she was, and what she knew. Because she had lowered her shield, and made herself vulnerable.

It was already done, so there was no point in pretending now.

Not when he had shared with her his greatest failing. Not when he had stripped himself bare for her.