Reasons Why - 22

Chapter 22

Chloe struggled to retain her composure, she wanted to stand up and scream at her former employer, berate him for making her hell complete. But she didn’t. She took a deep breath and stared at him, noting that David sat behind was embarrassed. Surely this was unethical? No one seemed to care.

                “If you had the transcripts of some of the thousands of messages there have been between my brother and me over the years, you’d see far worse than that. We all argue, siblings fight...that is life!”

                “Fight Miss Parker? Really?”

She groaned, anger threatening to blow at any second, “Mr Bremmer, are you trying to insinuate that I at less than ten stone could have beaten my brother who was half a foot taller and several stone heavier into a pulp outside my apartment because we had a falling out?”

He grinned, looking poignantly at the jury before returning his eyes to her, “I don’t know Miss Parker, should I be?”

Chloe sighed and looked at the ceiling briefly, the last thing she wanted was to irritate the jury with her behaviour, but she was struggling to not scream at the defence counsel.

                “Miss Parker?”

She dropped her eyes to him again, “yes?”

                “Did you see your brother after the conversation with him on the phone at approximately nine pm?”

Tears suddenly prickled at her eyes, this was more of a rollercoaster than anything else she’d ever known, “the next time I saw him after that conversation was in the hospital mortuary...dead.” She averted her eyes, not wanting anyone to see her cry, but just saying the words brought such vivid memories of the last time she saw Owen.”

                “Objection to this line of questioning your honour,” finally the prosecutor stood and offered his resistance at the line of questioning. “Miss Palmer has never been a suspect in this case, and reliving the last time she saw her twin is hardly appropriate or relevant!”

Max Bremmer stood, “I’m merely trying to identify the mindset of the witness on the night in question.

The judge, an elderly man shook his head, “Make it relevant Bremmer, or it will all be struck from the record. We’ll adjourn for a moment, give the witness a moment. Court will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

They both nodded, and the prosecutor retook his seat. It had given Chloe a moment to regain her composure, but the words from Max, his need to identify her mind set, as she took that in, she knew the moment was doomed. She followed the clerk out of the court, but a thick black fog had descended, and the nausea and fear were back.

Chris wanted to kill someone himself, this was worse than he’d ever imagined. Poor Chloe, a lamb to the slaughter. Where was the justice in doing this to her? He couldn’t wait for the day to end, to find her, to make her realise that they had something worth fighting for. Phil seemed to think that this court case would be the end of the nightmare for her. Hopefully with relief, with the closure of it all, just maybe she’d see him in a different light. It was selfish to hope that from her misfortune any good would figure him, but he honestly had nothing else.

He was sat watching, hidden in the corner of the full court room when the door opened and the bench re-entered the court, then another door revealed Chloe, brave, strong with her chin tilted high in the air. If he’d doubted that he loved her, then in that moment...as it hit him between the eyes like a sledge hammer - the protective instinct, the admiration, the concern...so many emotions that she elicited, he knew in that moment that he did, wholeheartedly.

Chris watched her sit down, raise her eyes, and then confront the animal that was the defence lawyer. She had a composed look on her face, but he knew that her eyes were wide, her jaw tense, she was struggling.

                “So Miss Palmer, the last time you saw your brother was after he had died. But did you see him prior to that?”

She shook her head, “no.”

He nodded, “so at no point did you see him before his death but after your phone argument?”

As she sighed a response, the prosecutor objected again, and this time Max was told to cut to the point.

He smiled at the judge, “the reason is about to become clear your honour.” He turned once again to Chloe, “Miss Palmer, what was your reaction to your brother’s death?”

Chloe spluttered, almost choking, and through tear filled eyes she looked up at her former boss, “how do you think I felt?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Swallowing her nausea, she glared at him, “I was devastated, I miss him every day, even now.” She turned to glare at the accused, he had the decency to look po-faced. “He was my brother and part of me died when he died. Have you never lost anyone close Mr Bremmer?”

He tilted his head, acknowledging her ability to throw the question back at her, and Chris saw that she would be formidable in the courtroom in her own right. Again his pride and his desire for her threatened to overwhelm him.

                “I’m clearly not the one being questioned here Miss Palmer.” He paced elaborately in a manner Chris was familiar with from TV crime shows. “So, in the days following his death, his funeral? How was that?”

Chris saw Chloe glare at him, the assistant on the bench and then finally to the Prosecutor who finally added an objection.

                “Mr Bremmer you’ve drawn out this point for what feels like two days. Spit it out or I will sustain the objection.” The judge was clearly losing his patience, and not before time.

Nodding he turned back to Chloe, “You weren’t at his funeral were you, the devoted sister?”

Chris held his breath, terrified at the look of devastation on poor Chloe’s face.

Chloe swallowed elaborately, she wanted to scream, to jump up and tear at Max Bremmer’s eyes, the room was full to bursting, family, friends, journalists. The world would now know what happened in the days and weeks following her brother’s death.

                “No.” She said quietly, “I wasn’t at his funeral.”

The courtroom seemed to let out a collective gasp, and she felt sicker than she ever had. In grief people did strange things, and unfortunately, her reaction was very dramatic. She couldn’t imagine life without Owen, then there was the interminable guilt that their last conversation had been an argument. Her last words were to stop interfering in her life, when all he’d ever done was look out for her.  the ‘what if’s were horrendous, she’d sit staring out of the window of her flat to the spot on the pavement where her brother had taken his last breath, and question what would happen if they hadn’t argued...he’d never have been in her part of town, if she’d answered her phone she’d have known he was coming, been looking out for him...instead, he died, alone, in pain and in view of the window that she lay sleeping behind.

As it was a murder case, it took weeks before his body was given up for a funeral. Whilst Chloe hated the thought of seeing him in a coffin, her vibrant handsome brother, but whilst it still hung over them, no one could get closure, move on. There was too much time to think and rethink, over analysing everything.

It was selfish to look at the bottle of sleeping tablets that her GP had almost foolishly prescribed when her grief meant sleep eluded her. But she did look at them, a lot. Several times. And she never thought about the impact on her friends or family, when one evening she couldn’t be lifted from her dark place, she opened a bottle of whisky, and took them one by one, all twenty one of them, each interspersed with a slurp of the bitter liquid. She only hoped as she lay on her bed to sleep that Owen would be waiting for her as she drifted off. The chance to apologise, to hug him just once more was all she asked for.  

But it wasn’t Owen she saw, but the bright lights of the Emergency room as she was fed salty liquid via a tube that caused her to vomit in a dramatic and undignified fashion all over the place. Then she slept...so tired. When she’d woken later she was on a ward, her mother pale and drawn in a chair next to her, too exhausted to cry anymore.

                “I can’t cope Mum,” she whispered, her voice a croak, paining her traumatised throat.

Her mother nodded, “I know darling. You need help...” She gulped loudly, “if I hadn’t come to see you...You’d...” Her mother swiped at a tear, “you’ve turned away from us, you don’t answer your phone. For some reason I was more worried last night than usual. Oh you silly, silly, girl!”

As her mother stroked her hair, Chloe started to sob, suddenly all the grief and guilt that had caused turmoil inside came crashing to the surface. After that moment she’d dipped into deep depression, realisation and acceptance that she really would never see Owen again hit her like a sledgehammer.

She was admitted to a psychiatric ward and subjected to lots of treatment, but it wasn’t until John Farmer, a middle aged psychiatrist appeared on the ward that she saw some light. He’d been on holiday for the three weeks she’d been there, but on their first meeting, a one-to-one conversation in his small but homely office he handed her a paper on the Five Stages of Grieving. Reading it in bed that night, she silently thanked Elizabeth Kubler-Ross for her analysis of life. She recognised all the stages, and knew that she was far from recovered. But if she’d known that all her feelings were normal then she’d never have tried to end her life. She knew that. It was her inability to deal with his death, her inability to discuss it with anyone - because if she talked about it, then it was real, that led to her spiralling so rapidly out of control.

Looking back into the courtroom she could barely believe that she was the same person as she was in those few months. But she was stronger now. Taking a deep breath she looked back at Max Bremmer and David beside her.

                “I wasn’t at his funeral as I was in hospital.”

There was another gasp, and Chloe looked up at her parents, terrified at what impact this would have on their fragile daughter, but she wasn’t fragile anymore, she wasn’t going to hide anymore.

                “You were ill?”

She shrugged, “I’d tried to end my life Mr Bremmer, as you’re well aware.”

Chris felt the bottom drop out of his world. Suddenly so much made sense, there had always been some secret, some past that she fought to hide, even Phil hadn’t told him everything, and know he knew why. He looked at her sat in the box, knowing now why she’d felt so scared being there, and hating the defence team for putting her through this. But in the last ten minutes she’d grown in stature and confidence. Maybe accepting and acknowledging this was cathartic, maybe this would be the final chapter for her. Sitting back he relaxed, she was an amazing person, and he was in awe as she turned to the jury and carried on talking.

                “Losing my twin brother was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. It shook my whole world. But it was the senselessness of it all that made it so hard to deal with.” She sighed. “And yes I blamed myself, I blamed myself for not being there to help him, that he was outside my bedroom window, dying and I didn’t know! That twin bond failed me. And it was the guilt that made me want to end my life, I don’t have that guilt anymore Mr Bremmer, because I know that someone killed him, this was no accident, no mistake, this was murder...for the price of a mobile phone.”

The room was silent, as the defence lawyer glanced to his bench, any cheap hit he’d hoped to have had failed. The point of her being in the dock was purely a smoke screen, a desperate attempt to distract from the evidence against Malcolm Pinker. It had failed dramatically because of Chloe. They’d banked on a blubbering idiot who could be manipulated into any answers; instead they got a strong woman. Like a phoenix from the flames.

Stepping out of the witness area, she saw her parents; stood together nervously holding hands, then they saw her and their faces burst into smiles. Running to them she threw herself into their arms.

                “I am so, so sorry!” Tears flowed as the three stood in a group embrace, smiling, laughing and crying simultaneously, all so relieved that they’d all got to this point, surviving after Owen.

As with hands still linked, they turned for the door, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks, there in front of her was Christos Petrakis, the man she’d dreamed about every night and day since she’d left him, his image had got replaced the one of Owen as she’d last seen him. But he was here, in her World, when she was at her most exposed, and any pleasure to see him was replaced by nausea, anxiety, and the spinning of the room as everything became black.

Reasons Why - 21

Chapter 21

Chloe looked at her reflection, her face pale against the harsh dark suit. It was barely comprehendible that less than a year ago she wore a suit like this every day. Pinching her cheeks she begged for colour, but she’d lost that, along with her breakfast in the bathroom an hour earlier. Those six weeks of pleasure and happiness in Canada were a distant memory. Fading daily like her tan.

This moment had weighed on her so heavily, and now it was here. The day she had to testify at the trial of the man who killed her brother...’allegedly’ as the news reports had said since it started a few days earlier. The evidence against him was damning, CCTV footage showed him following Owen around the corner into her street moments before the assault, he’d also been caught trying to sell Owen’s mobile phone the following day in a cash for goods store. He had a drug habit, lived on the streets, had a record of petty theft and assault convictions. He was bruised to the knuckles as well as over one eye, the only sign that Owen may have had the chance to fight back, but there was no DNA evidence on either him or Owen’s body. Then there was the fact that he’d boasted about ‘doing him in’ to his cell mate whilst waiting for trial. Everything pointed at him doing the deed.

Despite all that, he was, of course, entitled to a fair trial, and as part of that they were trying to use Owen’s apparent argument with her to cast doubt on his innocence. Hence her testimony.

Taking a deep breath, she left her parents’ home. She’d been there since coming home two months earlier. She was trying to fight the depression and guilt that had threatened her since the day her twin was killed, and she was only just winning. Once this ordeal was over she could start again. It was the very last thing in a long list of ‘things she had to get over’. Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to find her way to a normal life.

Her father looked like he’d aged twenty years since Owen had died, Chloe acknowledged as he drove them all to the central London courthouse.  This, other than the verdict, was the last stage in the nightmare for them both too. She hoped with all her heart that it was.  They’d suffered more than they deserved, and a large part of that was her role in all this. They’d both promised to go visit Phil once the case was over, and she knew that was the break they both needed to start the recovery process.

Her mother squeezed her hand as they pulled up at the car park. This was the last she’d see of them until she walked in to the packed court room and into the witness box.  She hugged her parents, then followed the clerks to the room dedicated for those about to testify. That was when the waiting started. She’d been in the same room for the last two days, but she’d been assured that today would be her day in the box.

Chloe took the book from her bag and tried, as she had the last two days, to concentrate on it, but she could barely think for the pounding of her heart and the bile that gurgled at the back of her throat. It had been like this for weeks, she was briefed by the prosecutors, reassured that her testimony was Pinker’s team attempting to clutch at straws. But nothing really defeated the fear and anxiety that thought of the testimony brought.

When the gowned clerk came in and called her name, she stood, and then followed on legs that would hardly step one in front of the other they were shaking so much. It felt as though she was the one on trial, that the world was about judging her. Stopping halfway along the corridor, she had to reach for the wall, steady herself.  The clerk waited with little compassion, so she rushed along embarrassed at her lack of coping. As the large oak door swung open, the hushed sounds of the court came like an invasion to her senses. With a deep breath she stepped forward.

Chris’ eyes were trained on the door behind the witness box. He’d barely made it to the court on time, and was relieved to find out that Chloe hadn’t been called up the day before. Sitting in the back of the room, he’d listened to the end of the evidence from the last witness, the pathologist who’d performed the post mortem on Owen. He’d grimaced at some of the words spoken, and the images they portrayed. He immediately identified Chloe’s parents as the ones reacting most dramatically to the words from the gathered crowds. Poor bastards! He thought, unable to imagine having to hear in exact anatomical details each blow and injury their now dead son had suffered.

He thought back to the day all those months ago when Chloe told him that her brother had been killed. At no point had he honestly thought of what that meant. He’d not imagined this moment, this scenario.

In fact, this had all taken him by surprise. Once he’d been abandoned in New York by Chloe, he was determined to forget her, get on with his life. The season was coming to an end, whilst there was no chance of them winning the league, they did make play offs, unexpectedly, and so the season extended. When they made it to the play off final, he emailed Chloe to tell her, his attempts to get over her were futile. He’d wanted her to come to the game, though he knew it wasn’t practical or likely, but he still needed to share his good news with her.

The last thing he’d expected was an email snubbing him. The words ‘my life moves on’, almost cut him to the core. It was his anger to that that had made him jump into the car and drive to the government buildings and the only man with any answers. Phil.

He was shown into the large airy office within moments of arriving; Phil sat behind a huge desk and gestured to a seat opposite after shaking the younger man’s hand.

                “Chris. How are you?”

If Phil expected anything from the other man, it was anger and frustration, when he looked at him, all he could see was sadness...tears.

                “I can’t understand it Phil. Why is she pushing me away? I know you know more than me...she didn’t share anything. I just wish I knew how to make her see sense. I love her, you know?”

Phil had been floored, not knowing how to deal with a man so obviously grieving for his sister. He had a loyalty to her, he knew that, but as he looked at Chris, broken, he decided that it was time Chloe woke up to life. He’d been annoyed when she’d left so abruptly, angry that she failed to see how she needed to stop this now, her distance from everyone. They’d all had a rough time, all lost someone special, but her self destruction seemed to be her emotional crutch, he was the only one to change that.

                “Did she tell you about Owen?”

Chris sighed, “Only that he’d died.”

Phil nodded, “he was murdered, outside her house.”

Chris felt as though the room was spinning, how had he not known that? “Murdered?”

Phil nodded again, and so the whole sordid story came out. Owen’s gruesome death, his family falling apart, Chloe’s admission that they’d argued the night of the death, her guilt in it all, and the imminent court case.

                “She’s testifying? How? What?”

Shrugging, Phil grimaced, “it’s not even fathomable, is it? I don’t know what they hope to prove, but Chloe is scared, and so much more. She’ll push you away to protect herself.”

                “From me?”

He laughed, “No! I just think she’s scared. She’s been in a bad place Chris, that’s why she came to stay here. To heal. And you helped her to do that until they called her to go to trial. Then she was back there again. In her own hell.”

                “You think she wants to see me again? She told me she was getting on with her life without me.”

Phil pondered for a moment, “she’s trying to stay in control. Maybe you’re part of that? I don’t know Chris; I just know that she was happy with you. I wouldn’t give up...but she needs to face her demons in the court case first.”

Phil took a punt on Chris doing the right thing. He could see the boy was devastated, and could only hope that he’d given him enough information to follow her.

Chris was still confused as he left the office, so much didn’t make sense, but Phil told him the trial details and not much more. Inevitably he’d fought to get the time to travel before his winter contract began. And as the door at the back of the court opened he found he was holding his breath.

It had been nine weeks since she’d walked out on him, nine weeks and three days to be precise. And for a moment he felt euphoric. Then he studied her, the carefree tanned happy woman was no more, she was pale, almost anaemic looking, her short funky hair was lank and dull, her face was a mask, her knuckles white on her gripped fists. She was wearing a dark suit, and it was strange seeing his vibrant lover looking so conservative, so scared, and so ill.

He groaned, what hell was she going through? All he could do was watch as she was signed in to the witness box her quiet voice repeating the oath, then sitting, a tiny figure dwarfed by the smooth wooden wall she sat behind.

The defence team were two men; someone he imagined was maybe fifty, wearing the white wig that was used in this judicial service. When he stood, Chloe flinched, and Chris watched as she eyed the man with almost fear.

                “Miss Palmer, can you tell us about the night your brother was so tragically killed outside your home?”

Chris groaned, the man’s intention was to immediately implicate Chloe in the story. His heart ached for her as she tried to answer, recalling speaking to Owen at various times of the evening.

                “And am I right in thinking that you’d argued with him?” He paused looking around the room for added drama, “after all, there were several messages left on your...and his answer phones that night!”

He could see Chloe swallow, the images obviously so vivid in her head, and he wanted to kill this man, for torturing her so slowly, why the hell would anyone human being do that?

Keep breathing. That was Chloe’s mantra. The fact that she was being quizzed by Max Bremmer, her old boss couldn’t affect her, neither was the fact that sat next to him on the bench was David...the cause of the argument that night. As she looked at him for a moment, he at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. He knew that she could very easily implicate him in this case, but the prosecution had told her time and time again to see this through, and not complicate things. She could see the logic, this was being done to distract from Malcolm Pinker’s guilt, she couldn’t forget that.

                “We were brother and sister Mr Bremmer; arguments are a common part of family life.”

                “What was the argument about?”

The prosecution objected, but Max was good at this and managed to field off the protest, “Miss Palmer?”

Chloe was getting angry, her fear was fading fast, she met his eyes head on and stared at him for a moment, “I wouldn’t join him for a drink. I was waiting for a friend...someone he didn’t like.”

                “So you chose the other man over him?” He asked smugly.

                “I didn’t say it was a man!” She snapped.

Max grinned, “Just answer the question Miss Palmer.”

                “He was angry that someone who apparently cared about me treated me so badly.” She glared at David...he dropped his eyes. “But no I neither chose someone over him, nor was he angry with me.”

That wasn’t what Max wanted to hear. And he looked a little rankled. Taking a deep breath he looked at her, “that doesn’t explain your message on his phone!”

She sighed, “he was drunk Mr Bremmer, and I wasn’t.”

Max turned to the jury, “please read the transcript, item eighteen B.” He turned back to her, “I quote the words, ‘butt out of my life Owen, I’m sick of you interfering’, and then, ‘you’ll regret this tomorrow!’” He stared at her expectantly.

Chloe suddenly realised that Max Bremmer, the man who’d been her employer whilst this happened, was trying to twist things around and make her look guilty. As if this wasn’t hell enough.

Reasons Why - 20

Chapter 20

New York! Chloe stepped out of the hotel reception into the bustling street and smiled. This was everything she’d imagined. She’d arrived late the previous evening, and had wandered up to Times Square after settling into her room. She’d loved the hustle and bustle, the lights, the people. She’d reluctantly gone to bed but now here she was about to spend a whistle stop twenty four hours in this City. She’d had to rearrange her flights home now that she was going home earlier, but she couldn’t resist sampling New York, that had always been part of her plan, and the three day stopover had dropped to thirty-six hours. She was determined to enjoy this day, make the most of this last gasp of freedom. Home, the court case, the heartache ahead were all on the horizon as gloomy dark clouds, but for this moment she was determined to enjoy herself. See the City that some called the greatest.

By lunchtime, a sandwich and a coke in an air-conditioned diner on a side street in midtown, she was exhausted, exhilarated and still very excited. The sandwich was triple-decker with half a dozen fillings, a million miles from the cheese sliced between two slices of white bread that was served in her work canteen. Nope this sandwich was an adventure!

She’d had a busy but productive morning, veering into Central Park before wandering down the Eastside of Manhattan past shops and hotels that were as familiar as her home town form the repeated appearances in films and TV shows. Immediately before lunch, she’d scaled the Empire State Building. Via the lift as oppose to the King Kong route. She was planning on a bus tour after her meal.

And the beauty of being so busy was that she had no time to think about the man she’d left in Victoria. Phil was angry that she’d come to New York, he thought she should have stayed a few days longer and cleared things up with Chris. But she wasn’t ready to put time and effort into salvaging the unsalvageable. They were different, there was no future for them, and she had the stresses of a million people waiting for her back at home. That was her priority now.

She couldn’t afford to let Chris enter her head. Though he did. She saw him in crowds, heard his voice call out to her, but every where she looked there was a different man, not as tall, or not as handsome, or not as funny. Each time a lancing pain hit her chest and took her breath away, but she chose to ignore that.

After lunch Chloe travelled on several buses, open topped tours, taking in as much as she could of this vibrant town. Not for the first time she wished she was here with company so that she could explore the nightlife as energetically as she had the day time. Saying that, she adjusted her sandals as she took a tube back to her hotel, her feet were killing her. She wanted a shower, maybe some dinner, then an early night.

The shower was invigorating and her grimy skin from a day in the City loved the experience. But it did make her tired, and she deliberated leaving the room again. Room service was expensive and the selection poor plus had sworn to herself that she’d make the most of the trip to the Big Apple, so she dressed and headed back out into the City.

She’d barely taken a dozen steps from the front of the hotel when she heard her name, a voice that sounded like Chris, for the umpteenth time that day. Refusing to fall for any more tricks from her subconscious, she marched away from the hotel determined to find a nice place where she could eat alone.

She’d got to the corner of the block, a place to deliberate on which direction to take, when she heard her name again. Definitely her name. Turning slowly, she froze her jaw opening in surprise. There jogging along the pavement towards her was Chris.

Once she was sure it wasn’t a trick of her mind, she drank him in greedily, despite turning him away, leaving him, he was beautiful, and she appreciated that for a moment.

                “I couldn’t let you go!” He breathed, “I didn’t think you’d leave so quickly.” He was struggling for breath.

                “I told you I had to go. I’m flying home in the morning.”

He took her hand and a jolt of warmth engulfed her, but she was wise to it, slipping her fingers free as he spoke, “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Chloe groaned, “Chris, this is over...”

Shaking his head, he forced her to look at him, his hand tugging her chin towards him, “no it isn’t! I can’t let this end!”

With that he kissed her. And as with every other of their hundreds of kisses, he overwhelmed her. His mouth had the authority of familiarity as he devoured her lips, parted them, coaxed them to accept his tongue. When they parted with a gasp, he homed in, his hands pulling her into his hard body, his tongue invading her mouth, duelling with hers. Bliss.

Chloe was aware that they were kissing in the street. It was a vague thought, because this kiss was like no other they’d shared. She’d never believed that someone could explode...or maybe implode from just a kiss. But she was, and as she whimpered in a pathetic way, a way that made her wonder if she might start to plead, or beg, or maybe pant there in the street, she managed to pull free, but as she saw Chris’ smile she realised that he had let her go before she’d even contemplated pulling away.

                “Now,” he breathed, his forehead rested against hers. “Tell me that there’s nothing between us.”

                “So you kiss well!” She snapped, but her voice was a strangled croak, and he laughed again.

                “It’s more than a kiss!” When she shook her head, he leaned close to her ear, “and if I ran my hands up your thighs? What would I find?”

The heat that furled in her pelvis from the kiss threatened to floor her; she gripped her thighs together trying desperately to assuage the arousal, the desire that had engulfed her so dramatically. Her throat was dry, and she was unable to comment as he pulled her into the road, stopping a yellow cab.

She didn’t remember getting inside, but his lips in her throat, her ear, as the car swung through the Manhattan traffic was the centre of her universe, and then his fingers were climbing under the edge of her denim mini skirt...his favourite skirt.

                “Chris!” She breathed, “What are you doing?”

He sighed against her cheek, “just making sure that you come back to my apartment and talk to me.”

                “Your apartment?”

                “Uh-huh. It’s a few blocks away. And it guarantees you can’t run out on me again.”

By the time he unlocked the door, the desire for him outweighed any anger at his behaviour, or resistance at the conversation he wanted to have. As the door closed, she pounced on him, thrusting her tongue aggressively into his mouth, anchoring her hands in his hair.

                “We need to talk!” He gasped against her lips.

She shook her head, “you can’t load the gun and then not fire it!”

Reaching for his jeans, she started to unfasten them, pushing them away from his tanned thighs, pausing only briefly to admire the long heard length of him. With a grunt, his lips returned to hers, and then with a further groan, he lifted her, wrapped her legs around him. Chloe gasped as he thrust into her, when her mind drifted back from the fantasy world he’d taken her to, she could barely fathom that she was here, in an apartment with Chris after leaving him the other side of the country. Then he thrust again, his hands teasing her beyond belief as his body drove her higher and higher. It was explosive, satisfying, and when Chris finally lowered her to the floor, her legs gave way beneath her.

Laughing, he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. The little she saw of the apartment as she tried to wriggle free, a small lounge/kitchen, gave way to a large bedroom. She barely took in the white walls and the equally white bed, as she bounced on to the surface in a rather unceremonious fashion.

Licking her dry lips, she watched as he reached for one of her ankles, pulling her shoe from her foot and tossing it over his shoulder, Chris sank his teeth into her instep. She could barely control her response, immediately after mind blowing sex, she was ready for more, wanting more.

Her other shoe followed, and with a heel in each hand, he peppered her calves with kisses, splitting the attention as equally as he could. All the while creeping closer to her. Chloe forgot all her misgivings; this was everything she knew Chris was, everything he could be. For a moment she wondered if she’d ever meet anyone, be with anyone as perfect as him again. Then she thought of all the crap she was about to face, all that was about to come out about her, and she knew that him never knowing would keep this as a special, special memory.

The distraction of thought had dragged her away from the sensation of his actions, and suddenly she was overwhelmed, over powered by him. His mouth...his tongue...she threw back her legs and let it transport her to another level.

Chris looked down at her, fast asleep in his arms and smiled. It had been a nightmare getting here. His coach was less than impressed, but he’d insisted. So he had two days literally. His flight left at ten am the following day. Not long, but once he knew from Phil the name of the hotel she was staying at, he had to do something. He didn’t imagine he’d be hanging around a street corner for the best part of the day, but now that she was here, in his arms...it all made sense, and was worth every moment.

They woke several times and made love in more ways than Chloe cared to remember. But as she opened her eyes in the morning, she knew she had to leave. She was dressing, trying desperately to find her underwear that was scattered somewhere in the small apartment, when Chris came looking for her.  He stood in the doorway, sleepy and sexy in just a pair of boxer shorts.

                “Running away?” he asked huskily.

She turned to him and took in his presence, for the rest of her life all she’d have was the memories of him, this moment, shaking her head, she finally found her knickers, and snatched for them...they were torn. “I was going to say goodbye,” she offered, “but I have to pack, my flight...”

He shrugged, “I’ve got a flight in three hours too. I just can’t believe you’ve avoided talking to me all night.” He rued his response to her, and knew she’d played him comprehensively.

                “Chris, this is over. You know that. I’m leaving...”

                “Nothing is permanent, later in the year I’ll be East Coast, a seven hour flight apart. It doesn’t have to end, it’ll be difficult...”

She held up a hand to silence him, “I can’t cope with that, I’ve had so much going on that I don’t think I can manage it. Not now.”

Reaching for her hands he looked at her desperately, “don’t say that. It’s worth it, it’s always worth it. We can make this work.”

Chloe shook her head, “I can’t do this Chris, I really can’t.” Shrugging free of his grasp, she found her bag and shoes and was at the door when he finally answered.

                “I love you Chloe, please don’t block me out.”

Her hand froze on the door knob, and she gulped for fresh air, eventually managing to turn slowly, “you can’t love me. Not yet, not now. You don’t know me...if you did you’d hate me not love me. This has been the best few weeks of my life, and I’ll never forget you...”

                “Tell me! Tell me what’s so awful that I’ll hate you, share things with me. Please?”

There were tears in his eyes, as he pleaded with her, but Chloe couldn’t imagine his seeing inside her, couldn’t think of him knowing her dark past, and most of all couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Closing the door was the only way to preserve this time. That was her only option.

Reasons Why - 19

Chapter 19

When she got back with the sleeping children, Chloe found Chris sat on the doorstep. She wasn’t surprised, but she was weary, too tired to deal with this confrontation now. Sighing she swung the car on to the driveway and opened the door.  

                “Hey.” He offered, looking up at her from the step.

She inclined her head slightly, “hey.”

                “You’re not answering your phone?” It was more a statement than a question. And was greeted with a nod from her. “Will you talk to me?”

She shrugged again, “I’ve got to get the kids in...”

                “I’ll help.”

In silence they carried the two sleeping children into the house and settled them in their beds. She’d let them both have a nap until their parents came home. As she closed Mikey’s door, Chris grabbed her wrist and tried to grab her attention.

                “Ssh!” She whispered, “downstairs.”

In the kitchen Chloe started to fill the coffee machine, anything to avoid a deep and meaningful with Chris. But he was hovering just over her shoulder, and as she fired the machine up, he pulled her around.

                “Don’t do this Chloe, don’t block me out. Don’t hide and run away!”

It was always the same, everyone wanting to help, to share her burden, no one seemed to get the fact that her guilt, her load was her own cross to bear, and she had no desire to share that, as it was almost like a key to her undoing. If Chris had this insight into her, saw her deepest darkest secrets, then he’d have power over her, have a control that would damage her.

Turning to him, she pasted on a fake smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, “sorry, I’m not good dealing with stress, I shouldn’t take it out on you!”

As her lips flew to his, Chris knew she was playing him, she wasn’t the sort of person who changed emotions so rapidly, but as her mouth covered his, her tongue delved in his mouth, he could feel his body start to harden, she had that immediate effect on him, her breasts thrust against his chest, and he was lost. Pulling her close, he reciprocated, ignoring the niggle in the back of his mind that warned him to stop.

Lifting her, he perched her on the edge of the work surface and with a groan against his lips, she curled her legs around his waist. Chris was drowning, her hands were under his shirt, teasing his hot skin, and she kept writhing against him, drawing him in like a siren on rocks that even the strongest boat couldn't resist.

                “Chloe!” He breathed against her lips, “what are you doing to me?”

Smiling she lifted her head, and placed a finger over his lips, “ssh. I want you!”

It was a calculated move and it hit the desired goal. Chris dragged her back to him, biting at her neck as he pulled open her shirt, then dragged the lace of her bra cup down freeing her breast, her hard, inviting nipple. With another groan he dropped his mouth to it, sucking and biting more aggressively than he intended. But Chloe only thrust her body further towards him.

                “Shit!” He had to finish this, and Chloe loved the desperation in his voice. Without removing any more clothing, they managed to find each other, dragging fabric, tearing when it didn't give, and when he finally sank into her, Chloe could do nothing more than moan.

Despite their urgency, Chris didn’t rush, he took his time watching every inch of her face as he buried himself deep inside her. Chloe gyrated, met every thrust of his with her own, but as Chris finally felt his body verge on the brink of an almighty explosion, he could tell she wasn’t there with him. Changing the angle of his invasion, he snuck a hand between them, and teased her that extra amount, and he was rewarded with her igniting in front of him, around him, and then he joined her.

His head was resting against her body, her dragged free breast, still framed in her un-removed bra, next to his cheek, her body still wrapped around him, him still inside her. And for a moment he wanted nothing to change, no talking, no moving, nothing, because this is where he wanted to be. Forever.

The thought stunned him. He knew that she’d got under his skin, he’d spent more time with her in the last month than he had with any other woman ever. The thought of not waking with her, not seeing her illuminating smile over breakfast, to not tease her over her accent, or to debate the merits of US versus UK sports, to never be like this, replete, satiated, deep inside her, scared him. She was leaving in ten days, and he was powerless to stop that.

Stretching under him, Chloe kissed the top of his head, “we should..." She giggled, "Phil and Didi will be home soon!”

Nodding, he reluctantly lifted his head, and took in the sight before him, Chloe half exposed, half dressed, lounging against the work surface, a smug look on her face as he remained still in her. Pulling apart, he addressed his dishevelled clothes, his eyes not leaving her, as she did the same.

Sliding past him, she dived in the bathroom and took a moment to compose herself, Chris copied her, and she was pouring them coffee when the front door opened and Phil called a “hello!”

Chris, lounging against the doorframe watching her move, grinned, “nice diversion Chloe!” Despite the humour in his voice, Chris was hurt, she’d do anything to avoid sharing her feelings with him. He was here wanting to tell her how desperately he wanted her to stay, but she was using cloak and dagger tactics to avoid any emotional intimacy. Shaking his head in disappointment, he turned to smile at Chloe’s brother, glad of the distraction from his wallow in self pity.

Phil was unaware of the tension in his kitchen, but he was glad to see that Chloe was at least talking to someone. He’d spoken to their father earlier in the day and heard more details of the impending court case. Nothing had brought relief, but at least she wasn’t on self destruct mode again, that had been his real fear.  

Chris was on a two day trip up state the following day, and Chloe was glad of the breathing space. But, it wasn’t to be, the CPS prosecutor linked to her brother’s case called and wanted to pick through all that had happened with a fine tooth comb. Her past, her fears and her nightmares were invading her safety zone, and that was worse than anything else.

By the time Chris returned she’d already made her decision, she was heading home to face the music. If her problems invaded this place any further then her memories of this place would be spoilt forever.

Phil and Didi were devastated, and one knew how the boys were going to take it. Then there was leaving Chris...

                “You’re leaving?” It was a gasp of surprise than a question. And Chloe was glad that she’d chosen a restaurant for this conversation.

Nodding, ignoring the emotions ravaging his face, she picked at her seafood, “there’s  too much to organise there. And this was only ever an extended holiday Chris.” She couldn’t give in, process this too much, as it was just as hard for her to leave. But the emotion, his devastation...she reached out and placed a hand over his. “I’ve loved this time, and you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know Chris.”

                “Helped you?” he tried not to raise his voice, but he was getting angrier by the minute. “Is that all this was?”

She shook her head, “of course not. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this happy and that’s due to you. But I always had a life to go back to, it was always inevitable that this moment would happen.”

Their main courses were delivered and they ate in silence for a moment, until Chris threw down his cutlery and a few notes to cover the food.

                “Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.”

She had to run to catch up with him, and he finally stopped at a small green between buildings. Storming to a bench he sat and dropped his head in his hands.

Chloe stood beside him and waited until he lifted his eyes, and the sight of them, filled with tears almost broke her heart...if it wasn’t already broken and traumatised.

                “I can’t believe you can just leave after the summer we’ve had together.”

She sighed, “Chris, I have loved every minute with you, but I never said I would stay forever, I always had to go.”

He was shaking his head, “we can work something out, it’ll be hard, but I can visit, you can come to New York when I’m back then...we can do something, anything.” It was a desperate plea to his own ears, but he didn’t care. At that moment he knew he was willing to make a complete fool of himself if that was what it took.

Chloe slowly shook her head, “I have to rebuild my life darling, I have to get over the last eighteen months and start again. I can’t do that if I’m living here on a holiday!”

                “You can start again, find a career here, live with me, we can see where life takes us!” He grabbed her hand.

                “If only things were that easy! I can’t get a green card, I have no insurance, I can’t work, if you’re even suggesting I’m sort of kept woman then you don’t know me at all Petrakis!”

He dropped her hand, “I wasn’t suggesting that, I don’t know what I’m suggesting, but can’t we just try? There must be a way. We can visit each other...”

She smiled, “as nice as four weekends a year together sounds, there is no future on from that, is there? I mean you’ll never be able to come to the UK with me, not playing lacrosse.”

                “I can do more than that!” He was indignant, “I am more than just a sportsman!”

The outburst was more effective than anything else he’d said,  she really felt for him, for her, and this impossible situation. Cupping his cheek she ignored the flinch and smiled at him, “you are so so so much more than a sportsman, you’re a very good sportsman, and I know you’re intelligent, quick, there is nothing you couldn’t do. But you live for lax, you’ve let your family head off without you to protect that. So there’s NO way I’d let you consider ending all that for me.” She sighed, “I’ve thought about this Chris. I’m screwed up, really screwed up, and I need to go home to change that. I have to end this here. I hope you can see that.”

                “I’ll never agree to that. But I can’t stop you. Can I?”

As she watched him walk away, tears fell. She hated the thought of losing him, but everything she’d said was the truth. She had more baggage than so many people, and she had to sort her mind out, and bury the past finally. The logistics of things working in the future was slim for all the reasons she’d said, and she couldn’t imagine they’d see each other again. But that was something she’d learn to deal with. After all she’d dealt with losing Owen, it couldn’t be as bad as that. A voice somewhere deep in her head, reminded her quite blatantly that the mess she was in was because she hadn’t been able to deal with losing Owen.

She could only pray that this would be an easier parting to deal with.