From Rags

CHAPTER THREE

Connor McKenzie stood in the living room of his London apartment, can of beer in hand, wondering if all blokes had this much trouble getting a woman to listen up when he said no he did not intend to marry her. He’d left L.A to get some space when it seemed that he couldn’t shake her off, and what did she do? Flew all the way to London to have the exact same conversation they’d had a dozen times before.

Oh she could hear him alright when he said no. Plain as day. He’d learned over the past three months that her hearing was selective. Oh that wasn’t all. He’d also learned that she had planned to accidentally-on-purpose become pregnant. What exactly did she think that was going to achieve? That it would trap him into a committed relationship? He might not want kids but although he’d have played some part in the kid’s life, no way would he have walked down a bloody aisle.

Another thing he’d learned about this woman was that it was her who had been spreading rumours to the tabloids that he had proposed to her and that they were getting married in eight months’ time. His best mate, Dane, had showed him one of the cheesy headlines: Anita Donovan is the formula that tamed the womanising Formula One driver Connor McKenzie.

He would never fully understand women. He knew how to make them crave him. He knew how to make them lose themselves and come like crazy but without losing control of himself – he would never give a woman that much power over him. What he didn’t know, and would possibly never know, was how to make them understand that if he fucked them it did not mean that he cared about them. That sex and love were two different things and it was possible to have one without the other.

It was well-known that he’d never had a committed relationship and didn’t want one. It didn’t seem to matter that he was honest with every woman from the start. For some unknown reason they all got this daft idea that they would be the one to change him. Hence, why there was a very disappointed American woman behind him who was trying to pluck at heartstrings that he didn’t have to manipulate him into giving her what she wanted.

“Connor,” she intoned. “Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves, after everything we’ve shared, to give it another shot?”

Owe it to themselves? Everything they’d shared? They had only being seeing each other on-and-off for a few months for nothing more than shagging. Where did she come up with this dramatic tripe? It sounded like something right out of a corny romantic film. It probably was, actually; she’d starred in enough of them.

“Connor, talk to me.” Anita was close to snapping; she felt helpless for the first time in her life. Since the day she was born she was granted practically whatever she wanted. Having famous parents, both actors, meant that her acting career was given a huge jumpstart and things had always come easy to her. Connor was the only thing she had ever had to truly work for. He hadn’t fawned all over her or been anything like the respectful guys that she was used to who showered her with affection and gifts – which was why she had wanted him so badly. What she hadn’t banked on was that once she had him she would have to work to keep him. Three months she had lasted…and now she was about to lose him. She was about to know the feeling of failure.

She had to make him realise how good they looked together. They were so different that it was laughable, but that was what made them fit. She had had the sheltered, silver spoon lifestyle whereas Connor had spent his childhood in foster care in London. Yet two years ago, at just the age of twenty-two, he had become the youngest Formula One driver in the world.

Where she was blonde and pale and blue-eyed, he had coal-black hair and the darkest eyes. The tabloids had long ago dubbed her ‘angel face’ due to her innocent features and small, delicate build. Nothing angelic about Connor; he wore either a frown or a cocky smirk and was anything but delicate with his athletic build and those muscles that were so defined they rippled beneath his clothing as he moved. The tabloids loved her ‘sweet disposition’ and her apparent vulnerability and that unworldly smile she was a master at showing the cameras. Connor, on the other hand, had a raw, animal magnetism about him. He oozed power, strength and danger; making him just as intimidating as he was sensual. It was as though he had been created purposely to seduce. And seduce he did, though he didn’t have to invest much effort into it. How many women had she had to fight off during the last few months? God they even flirted with him in front of her as though she wasn’t even there.

It was those contrasts between them that made them perfect for each other: they balanced each other out. Why couldn’t he see that? Okay so they might not love each other, but he didn’t want love anyway. Maybe he had a point when he said that he wasn’t a fashion accessory for her to hang off her arm, but lots of famous people married to keep the tabloids talking about them. “Okay, Connor, if you need some more time before we get married then we’ll wait.”

“Anita, Anita, Anita.” He swerved to face her. “I need you to listen very carefully because repeating myself over and over isn’t something I enjoy. Are you listening? I. Have. No. Intention. Of. Ever. Getting. Married. Ever. Did you hear that? Let the words settle in your brain. Absorb the information. Accept it. Go home.”

“Maybe in time you’ll change your -”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”

She shook her head, panicking now. “Connor, honey, listen: I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been pushing you, it’s just that I love you -”

“Leave, Anita.”

“- but if marriage really isn’t what you want it doesn’t mean we have to split up, we can still be together.” And then I can wear you down with time.

“Anita...” It was a warning.

Desperation flooded her veins. She was not only going to lose him, but her pride. Everyone expected them to get married after the rumours she’d spread; her parents, the media, her fans. She had even been in touch with the personal assistant of fashion designer Donna Karan about a dress and chosen her Maid of Honour who had excitedly accepted the position. God how embarrassing was it going to be when everyone heard about this! She didn’t even have time to buy; Connor would still go to that stupid charity event in a week’s time and he wouldn’t go alone. Once the paparazzi saw him with another woman the whole world would know about their separation. Why couldn’t he see how good they looked beside each other?

Seeing her magazine on the table next to her bag, she quickly snatched it and opened it on a particular page then slapped him in the chest with it. “Look.”

Humouring her, Connor glanced down to see a photograph of the two of them together outside a restaurant. “And the significance of this is…?”

“We look perfect together! Everybody says so!”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” With that he flung the magazine at her feet and gave her his back as he began to walk away.

Then he froze, his body having caught up with his brain. Slowly he turned and looked down at the magazine on the floor, convinced that he couldn’t have seen what he thought he saw. He was aware that Anita was still rambling on but her words didn’t register. Tentatively he picked up the magazine and flipped it over to look again at the front cover that only seconds ago he’d had a fleeting glimpse of.

And there she was. Looking back at him with an intensity that reached out and plucked at his soul. Those eyes, they had always gotten to him. They had a way of entrancing you, imploring you, making you a willing captive.

Jaxx.

His chest tightened and his lungs burnt. Suddenly the magazine felt like an extension of his hand. He honestly didn’t know how he was going to put it down. He found himself rubbing those lips of hers with his thumb, remembering the one time he’d kissed her. How her mouth had tasted. How he had wanted to do so much more to her but had stopped himself because of her age. She might not have looked or behaved or thought anything like a fourteen year old girl, but that was what she’d been, and he’d been sixteen.

A barrage of random memories hit him. Her burying her face in his chest to hide how hard she was laughing when their drunken foster father slipped on the ice chasing after the dog that had snatched his last beer. Her trying to convince him not to hotwire another car and then purposely triggering the alarm when he ‘wouldn’t see reason’. Him teaching her self-defence moves after that gang of boys cornered her in the girls’ toilets at school – the same gang of boys he had later beat the crap out of. Her yelling at him to stop feeling sorry for himself or she’d squish his balls with her foot. Him sitting playing with that head of chocolate-brown ringlets while listening to her defend Leah for the umpteenth time instead of seeing the lying, attention-seeking bitch for what she was. He remembered exactly how her hair had felt between his fingers.

Christ, how had he subconsciously managed to train his brain not to let him think about her? Now that the dam had been broken, the memories and images of her pelted him. It was almost like his mind was punishing him for trying to box her away into a corner.

He suddenly became aware that Anita was tugging on his arm and barking his name. Screeching something about he’d regret this, and was the face of Allure about to be his next victim? He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t move his gaze from those brown, feral eyes. Nor did he want to. “Out,” he insisted in a calm yet lethal voice that no one had ever ignored. Except for Jaxx. She had snorted at his temper and flipped him off.

Making a hissing sound, Anita stomped toward the door. As she reached it she turned to scream an insult at him, thinking he would at least be watching her leave – hopefully having some regret shining from his eyes. But he was still staring at that photo of Jaxxon Carter; a model who in just the space of three months had become widely known and desired. And now she was her intended replacement. Not gonna happen.

Once Connor was finally alone, the slamming of the door echoing in his ears, he grabbed himself another beer and parked himself on the couch, all the while still holding that magazine while Jaxx’s eyes held his. It was only then that it occurred to him to wonder what the bloody hell she was doing in a magazine. No, not in a magazine, on the front cover. If there was one thing he would never in a million years have anticipated, it was Jaxx becoming a model. Oh she had the figure for it; she was even more stunning now than she’d been as a teenager. The early bloomer had obviously never stopped blooming. Christ, if his dick was twitching just from her picture, he had no damn doubt that it would harden to the point of pain if he saw her again in real life.

When, not ‘if’, a part of him insisted. Yeah, he had to see her again; had to see this woman who had seen good in him when he hadn’t seen it in himself, who had somehow burrowed her way into his soul without her even realising it.

But what if she thought his contacting her meant that he wanted some kind of relationship? He’d admitted to her before he left that he’d always cared about her so he wouldn’t blame her for thinking that he now wanted to act on that. He’d have to make sure she understood that it wouldn’t happen, he still had no intention of doing the whole kids and marriage thing and his career came before everything.

Who would have thought that his stealing a Ferrari one night would have led him on the path to be where he was now? Instead of prison, he had ended up in the Ferrari Young Driver Development Programme. It had been the first time that someone had ever offered him a chance to be more than what he was, and he had gripped that opportunity and latched on tight. Not once had his grip ever loosened, and he had all the trophies to prove it.

He reckoned that Jaxx would love to hear about the championships he had taken part in, would want every little detail. Would throw herself into his arms the minute she saw him. He wouldn’t mind finding out about her new life. Just a little get-together to catch up. Maybe they could then meet up now and again as mates. Yeah. He liked that idea.

“Oi, Jaxxon, have you seen this?” giggled Ollie as he chucked an open magazine at her.

Both her and the hairstylist, Louisa, glanced at the article that was actually an interview with the popular new London rapper, J.P. Included was a few photographs, one of which featured Jaxxon talking not so civilly to him at one of London’s most exclusive bars. Underneath the photograph was the quote: ‘Five seconds in her company and she told me to sod off or she’d shove my balls up my arse. I think I’m in love.’

Jaxxon sighed and threw the newspaper back at Ollie. “Another oddball,” she muttered.

“So what did he do that prompted you to threaten his livelihood?”

“He asked to buy me a drink.”

“And that was a problem, was it?”

“He didn’t ask me, he asked my breasts then drooled on them – literally. That was just the last straw for me; he’d been horrible to Anna when she tried talking to him. Trust me when I say it had been in his very best interests to get out of my sight.”

Though Jaxxon had never been one to develop close friendships, she spent a lot of time with one of Richie’s models, Anna. The slender copped-haired girl was just eighteen but looked more like fifteen and was not even the slightest bit streetwise. She may as well have had a piece of paper attached to her back that said, ‘Bully me, it’s fine’. This wasn’t a good thing for a party animal, so Jaxxon often joined Anna when she went to clubbing to keep an eye on her. The girl was just so delicate and trusting that it was actually frightening.

“Very protective of Anna, aren’t you?”

She shot Ollie a pointed look. “Don’t pretend to be surprised by that. I knew what you and Richie were up to when you introduced me to her. The pair of you knew how much that girl liked going out to the clubs and bars, shaking her bloody shimmy, and you figured that she was a great way to get me out and about and under the watchful eye of the media.”

Ollie smiled in surprise; she was just too astute for her own good. “We’ve told you it’s important that the magazines and papers get glimpses of you. They’ll just make stuff up anyway if they don’t.”

“Is all that talk about you and that footballer true?” asked Louisa.

“Footballer?” Jaxx frowned.

“Yeah, Matt Watson.”

“What was said?” Jaxxon never read anything about herself, though Ollie and Richie tried to show her articles. It was just too weird seeing herself in magazines or papers. Surreal. She still hadn’t overcome getting a jolt of shock through her each time a picture of herself stared back at her. The biggest shock had been seeing herself on a billboard, especially since she hadn’t even noticed until a young bloke called out, ‘Oi, luv, is that you?’

A billboard. Her. Jaxxon from the dodgy part of London with her dodgy past. It hadn’t taken long for the tabloids to drench up said dodgy past but she wasn’t ashamed of it. She thought it was wrong that people would stand and sneer at those who had been brought up in the system but you didn’t see them getting together to come up with a better bloody system. She was just relieved the tabloids hadn’t been able to dig up all of it. There were some particular events that were better left buried.

Louisa’s words took Jaxxon from her thoughts. “It said in one of the papers that you two met in a bar one Friday night then left together and went straight to his apartment, and that you never resurfaced until Monday morning.”

Jaxxon groaned. “Who comes up with this crap? Matt approached me in a bar and we talked a bit, but I was mostly trying to stop a very plastered Anna from dancing on the table. I think I intimidated him because when he asked me if I’d be interested in going out with him one night his words came out in like a jumbled stuttering mess.”

Ollie smirked. “You intimidating? I can’t imagine anyone thinking that.”

“Aren’t you the funny one.”

“It’s those eyes of yours, they knock people off balance.”

“For God’s sake, they’re just eyes. Everyone’s got a pair.”

“We’ve all got a pair of legs too, but I don’t make money off mine the way Anna does hers.” Ollie looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Speaking of body parts, how’ve you been getting on with your fitness regime?”

“I haven’t.”

“What about the diet?”

“I’ve already told you; I don’t do gyms and I don’t do diets.” Exercising had a way of boring the life out of her, and dieting just made her so miserable that she ended up craving comfort foods so it just seemed counterproductive to her.

“You don’t want to let yourself go, though, do you?”

“I’ve got a mind to get offended here. Are you saying I’m getting fat or something?”

“It’s just standard for models to keep in shape.”

“Then I’m not fit for model-hood. I don’t have the self-discipline for it, and, to be honest, I don’t want to have it. Chocolate is my only vice and I have no wish to give it up.”

“Ollie has a valid point though,” said a castigating voice slowly approaching. Richie.

Being ganged up on? Jaxxon scowled. “Who asked you, you poncey right twat?”

Richie laughed. “I do enjoy your insults. It’s a nice contrast from having someone trying to climb half way up my arse all morning.”

“Seriously, girl,” began Ollie as he gave her a speculative look, “have you been eating those vices of yours more than usual?”

If it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in Ollie’s eyes, Jaxxon would have undoubtedly emptied her entire glass of water over his head. “You two are just trying to get me all worked up for the photo-shoot,” she realised.

Ollie giggled. “Did it work?” She grunted. “Good. My work here is done.” He hopped off his seat. “Oh, wait, we were discussing your social activities, weren’t we. What I was going to suggest was that you take that footballer of yours to the charity event Saturday night.”

“He’s not my footballer.”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason why you can’t play up to the rumours.”

Louisa sighed dreamily. “That bloke is just yummy.”

“True,” allowed Jaxxon.

Ollie smiled. “So you’ll invite him?”

“Nah.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons. One, I’ve already promised Anna I’d take her. Two, what I forgot to mention when I told you about Matt approaching me was that I’d turned him down.”

“Turned him down?” Louisa was horrified. “Why?”

“He seemed nice but I couldn’t be with someone who’s a nervous wreck around me.”

Richie sighed. “Well that limits your choice of blokes in general.”

Rubbing his stubbly chin, Ollie asked, “What about the rumours about you and Richie’s male model, Bruno?”

“Oh Anna told me about that article, it was a load of bleeding shite. There had been four of us sitting at that table; me, Anna, Bruno and that other model who’s his mate…Chris, is it? Anyway, whoever took the picture zoomed in on me and Bruno and made it look like we’d gone out on some intimate dinner as a couple.”

If she remembered rightly, the article had also stated that Bruno spent a lot of time at her apartment. As it happened, only three people other than her had ever been inside: Anna, Tony and Lily. Having grown up in a place where you had to be cautious of who you invited inside, it was a hard thing to snap out of. She still hadn’t given the place any real personality yet, unless you counted Bronty who had claimed the sofa. She simply wasn’t accustomed to having a ‘home’; a place she could relax, a place she could settle into, a place that wasn’t going to get ‘visits’ from her neighbours.

In fact, for the first week that she had had her new car – a yellow Audi convertible – she had been nervous as hell, convinced that it was going to get stolen. Anna had been delighted at the sight of the car, thinking that Jaxxon was now ready to fall into the glamorous lifestyle, but Jaxxon had no interest in trying to keep up with the Jones’. The only reason she had her Audi was because it was a car she had always said she would buy if she had the money. Anna was also disappointed that she couldn’t get Jaxxon to expand her new wardrobe with anything but casual wear. The fact was that Jaxxon loved her jeans and preferred to be comfortable, and she wasn’t going to apologise for it.

“So you’re set on taking Anna on Saturday?” said Richie.

“Yep. She’s actually dragging me shopping after this for something to wear for it. She’s so excited. You aren’t really going to suggest that I ruin her year by uninviting her are you?”

“Alright,” sighed Ollie. “I’ll send a limo to pick you both up from your apartment.”

She suddenly felt slightly uneasy and suspicious. He’d given in way too easily which was completely out of character for Ollie.

“Now, I really must be off. Enjoy the shoot, and be good for your Uncle Tony.”

She rolled her eyes. Ollie, Richie and Tony had all decided to elect themselves to be her honorary uncles – her input not important on the matter. Feeling sorry for her for being family-less, she guessed. “For God’s sake. Next you’ll be calling me Annie and asking me to sing the sun will come out tomorrow.”

“Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow,” sang Richie.

“There’ll be sun,” finished Ollie.

They then, swaying gently, sang the chorus in unison, which Jaxxon found quite disturbing on a number of levels. “Ollie, Rich,” she said awkwardly when they were done. “Have you two ever watched that film Brokeback Mountain?” Their scowls were priceless.

A few hours later, Jaxxon was stood staring at a huge designer store that Anna guided her to. “I am so not going in there.” It was like another world. One filled with blazers and blouses and pencil skirts. Jaxxon knew she didn’t belong in there. Even from outside it was obvious to her that the clothes were all…what was the right word? Sophisticated? Yes, sophisticated. And prim. And posh. All of which Jaxxon equated with boring. What’s more, she could never pull off sophisticated. If she was, by some miracle, going to find a dress that fit the occasion without making her look like something she wasn’t, then she was not going to it there.

“Oh come on,” urged Anna. “I know you don’t like getting dolled up but it’s a massive event. It’s going to be chock-a-block with celebs. We need to find something suitable.”

“It doesn’t mean we have to go there looking like the Prime Minister’s wife.” A tingling sensation very suddenly scuttled down her spine; her inward warning system, developed after years of having to watch your back, alerting her that someone was watching her. Probably paparazzi, she told herself. But this felt different. It felt wrong. A quick glance around revealed nothing alarming.

Anna nodded. “Alright, let’s try somewhere else.” Jaxxon had never been able to afford shopping sprees so didn’t know the magic of retail therapy and Anna was determined to introduce her to it, though she expected it might take a few goes before Jaxxon was comfortable with the whole thing. She tended to get a little claustrophobic when there were a lot of people around her.

Jaxxon vetoed four more stores but, for some reason, had a good feeling about the fifth. So now for the next part. Go inside. Pick something. Try it on. Pay. Then get the hell out.

One chirpy, overly-attentive assistant quickly became six, and then both Jaxxon and Anna were ushered into a private room where the assistants proceeded to bring in various dresses in various styles by various ‘top designers’. Jaxxon glared hard at Anna. Places like these serve models and celebs all the time, she says, there’ll be no fuss, she says. Anna was going to get her little shimmy kicked so badly.

The assistants kept using terms like ‘looks perfect with your skin tone’, ‘brings out your eye colour’, ‘highlights your curves’. Soon Jaxxon was feeling overwhelmed. The idea of getting into her beloved car had never sounded better. But going home empty handed wasn’t an option. Determined to not have to go to another store to endure this again, Jaxxon resolved that she would choose something from this collection if it killed her.

She tried on a few dresses. The first made her look like a porcelain doll. The second made her look stuck up her own arse. The third made her look like a posh prostitute. But the fourth…It was an ice-blue, silk, halter-neck that was elegant yet stylish and clung to her like a second skin. According to the happy assistants, the skin-clinging part was vital. Whatever. It fit, it was a nice colour, and she didn’t look slutty but had avoided looking all prissy. That was good enough for her. The price was more than she had anticipated but she would overlook that; she needed to get out of this sodding shop and breathe.

The good Lord had obviously been looking down on her because Anna also selected something from this store, though Jaxxon suspected this was mostly because Anna had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of attention. The dress she finally settled on was a short, black number that complimented her long legs.

It was later as they were tackling the pizza they’d had delivered to Jaxxon’s apartment – she had managed to convince Anna that indulging occasionally was good for the soul – that she relayed to Anna the rumours about her and Matt. Amazing how a five minute conversation with a bloke in a bar had been turned into a wild weekend.

“You know, I’m proper surprised that anyone would even print that, let alone believe it,” declared Anna. “I mean come on you’d eat him alive. The idea of you as a couple is just totally unrealistic. Same with Bruno; the man might be built to pleasure but he’s a walking talking teddy bear, he doesn’t suit you. No, what you need is a man-man.” Her face suddenly took on a faraway quality as she got caught up in her thoughts.

“A man-man?”

“Yeah, you know, someone who won’t quiver before you.”

“But who I can still boss around,” she quickly insisted.

“Someone who won’t back down once you get started on one of your disputes.”

“But who will accept that, ultimately, I will win all arguments.”

“And we’ll throw in a healthy sex drive for good measure. Someone intense. I just can’t see you being satisfied with slow and gentle.”

The sound of her mobile phone ringing broke them out of their ‘Jaxxon’s Man-Man’ design. Tired and bloated, Jaxxon huffed with the effort of going to grab her phone. The screen said ‘Withheld Number’. “Hello.” Nothing on the other end. “Hello.” Still nothing. Jaxxon scowled at the phone then ended the call.

“Something up with the signal?” asked Anna from the dining table.

“I’ve got five bars.” The phone in her hand started to ring again. “Hello.” Again there was nothing. “Must be the signal of whoever’s on the other end.” She ended the call, slung the phone on the coffee table and then returned to the table. No sooner had she sat down than the landline phone began ringing. Jaxxon groaned as she got up to answer it. “Hello.” Nothing. “Hello.” Still complete and utter silence. “Say something or sod off.” Again nothing so she replaced the receiver and sat back down. Wouldn’t you know it, the phone began ringing again. “Oh the machine can get it. I can’t be arsed getting up again, I’m too stuffed.” Her whole world seemed to pause as she heard that voice…

“Jaxx…God, it’s been ages hasn’t it…I’m made up that you’re

doing well for yourself. Give me a ring and let me know when’s a

good time for you to meet up.”

As Connor rattled off his mobile phone number, Jaxxon closed her eyes and allowed the deep, seductive timbre of his voice to wash over her. The sound should be illegal, it was like a caress. It conjured images up in her mind of his gorgeous face, his cocky grin…and the back of his body as he walked out of her life and never came back.

God she despised him. God she missed him. Just like that, her mind was a mess. That arsehole always had a way of knocking her off kilter.

Jaxxon had heard plenty about him over the years. It was hard not to. Most of the blokes where she grew up had all raved about Connor. She always got that, ‘Hey, wasn’t you once Connor McKenzie’s girlfriend? Did he dump you before or after all the F1 stuff?’ That always earned them the snarl from hell.

She knew about his fiancée and their upcoming wedding too…which just made him getting in touch all of a sudden even worse. There was no way she could look at him without wanting to poke his eyes out and feed them to his fiancée. Or maybe the other way around. Maybe both. Why not?

A growl almost spilt from her throat. The nerve of him to phone her up after eight years of nothing! What, was she considered good enough to be associated with now that she was featured in magazines like him? How could he even think she would want to see him? And he did think that she would. She could tell by the way he spoke.

“Oooooh, who was that?” intoned Anna.

“Connor,” replied Jaxxon without thought.

“Connor…?”

“Connor McKenzie.”

Anna frowned. “Connor McKenzie, Connor McKen -” Her eyes widened. “Connor McKenzie as in Connor McKenzie the F1 driver?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my God, that man is just divine. Well, he looks like it on the photos anyway. Don’t hold back, how did you meet him? And when?”

Another sigh. “When we were both in foster care.” Anna’s mouth dropped open. Jaxxon supposed that she hadn’t kept her expression as carefully blank as she had thought because Anna’s own expression quickly became cautious and concerned.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“He was my teenage obsession. Gave me my first kiss.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then nothing. He turned sixteen, left, and I didn’t see him again.”

“So then why do you look ready to kill?”

Jaxxon swallowed back the hurt. “Probably because the night before he left he kissed me and made out like he cared about me when it turned out that the whole time he’d been shagging my older sister and the kiss had been a sympathy-kiss. To a teenager with the most humungous crush, that was a really big thing. And then…”

“And then…?”

No, Jaxxon wouldn’t talk about all that happened after that. She never had, not with anyone, and she had no wish to. Ever.

“Are you going to ring him back?”

“No.” She didn’t even have to think about it. “Sometimes it’s best to leave the past where it belongs. Behind you.”