When my father lets go of Mrs. Shepard, I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry for your loss, Elizabeth,” I say.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she sniffles as she returns the hug. Letting go, I step back so she can move on to the next guest. A shadow falls over me. Looking up, I find Carter standing in front of me. The cheeky fucking bastard has his arms outstretched, waiting for his hug. I don’t think so buddy. I see a smirk cross his face when my brow furrows. Before I get a chance to say anything he pulls me into his arms. Fucker. He knows I’m not going to make a scene at a funeral.

God he smells amazing.

I know I should push him away, but for some reason I can’t. My arms seem to have a mind of their own when they slide around his waist. He exhales, pulling me in tight. “Christ I’ve missed you,” he whispers so only I can hear. Tears sting my eyes. I’ve missed him too, but it’s too late for that. I waited for years for him to return, and when he didn’t I moved on.

When reality hits, I have no choice but to pull away. All these feelings that I’m having towards him are consuming me with guilt. Making me feel like I’m doing wrong by Mark. As much as I hate to say this, once the funeral is over, I hope Carter goes back to wherever he came from. Having him around again is too hard. I have a new life now. A life that doesn’t include him.

••••

For the rest of the service I don’t leave my father’s side. The whole time I feel Carter’s eyes on me. Only once do I give in to the temptation to look his way. Of course I find him staring straight at me. The sad look on his face as his eyes bore into mine makes my chest ache for some reason. I quickly divert my eyes back to the front of the room.

After we left the Chapel, Mrs. Shepard invited us to her house for the wake. I had no intentions of going back, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asked had me saying yes. Damn it. Carter better stay the hell away.

“I’m not going to stay long,” I tell my father when we pull into our driveway. I can’t handle these feelings Carter evokes in me when he’s around. Staying away from him is the only way.

“Sure, Pumpkin. I’m sure Elizabeth and Carter will appreciate you making an appearance.”

Of course when we enter the house the first person I see is him. His eyes immediately find mine. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, making his gorgeous face even more handsome. He’s standing in the corner of the main room looking completely out of place. Why I feel bad for him, I can’t say. I suppose it would suck to feel uncomfortable in your own home, I guess. I find myself wanting to go over and talk to him, but I don’t. Instead I head towards the kitchen to see if there’s anything I can do to help. At least in here I’ll be away from his watchful gaze.

Just my luck they have caterers hosting the wake, so when I’m told there’s nothing I can do to help I head back into the main room, deflated. My heart sinks when I find my dad standing with Carter. There’s no way I’m going over there to join them. Thankfully, they’re lost in conversation and don’t notice I’ve re-entered the room. I don’t know anyone else here, so I slip outside and take a seat on the front step. I need the fresh air. I need the space. I need to be as far away from Carter as I can get.

Ten minutes later, I hear the front door open behind me. Turning my head, I find him standing there looking all smug and delicious. Great. Everything in me wants to get up and walk away, but that’s not the adult thing to do. As angry as I am at him, we’re not teenagers anymore.

“I was wondering where you got to,” he says coming to sit beside me. “Here, I brought you something to drink.” He holds up a glass of wine. I have a good mind to tell him to jam it up his smug arse, but the truth is, I need it.

“Thank you,” I reply reaching for it, but he pulls back his hand. I narrow my eyes at him. Ugh! “I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still an arsehole.” He laughs at my comment like it’s funny. It wasn’t meant to be funny.

“I’m just messing with you,” he says passing it to me for real this time. He’s already removed his tie and suit jacket. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a full sleeve tattoo on his arm. He didn’t have that last time I saw him. It only serves to make him look even more like a bad boy. Three words come to mind—Sexy. As. Hell. I hate that his presence still has a huge effect on me.

I find myself wondering what his life’s been like since he left. A long time has passed since we were last together. Going by his past, he’s probably still a man whore. I hate it that that thought upsets me. “So how have you been?” he asks taking a pull of the beer in his hand.

He must’ve been wondering the same thing as me. I shrug. Is it wrong that my eyes are focused on his lips wrapped around the head of the bottle? I remember all too well what those lips felt like. Being near him again seems so surreal.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” I answer with a shrug. His eyes lock with mine. The look I see on his face is so intense I have to turn away, taking a huge gulp of my wine. I’m not sure if I can have this conversation with him. It’s funny; for years I longed for him to return, and now he’s here, I wish he wasn’t.

“How’s my man, Larry?” he asks, breaking the awkward silence. My heart sinks. He hasn’t been around, so I guess he doesn’t know. “Would you mind if I went to see him? I’ve thought about him a lot over the years.” Just hearing him ask that has tears rising to my eyes. I quickly lower my face so he can’t see them.

What I wouldn’t give to see Lassie again. Reaching up, I grab hold of the necklace Carter bought me, clutching it in my hand. I took it off after he left, but when Lassie passed I put it back on. The necklace and the picture Carter drew are all I have left.

“He died,” I choke out. Even after all these years it still breaks my heart whenever I think about him. When I think about what happened.

“What?” he says in a tone that makes me think he doesn’t believe what I said. I wish I was lying. My eyes move back to Carter’s. Even through my tears I can clearly see the colour drain from his face. “Fuck,” is all he says as he puts down his beer and engulfs me in his arms. I go willingly, burying my face in his chest. “What happened? He was still young … so healthy.” A sob escapes me as the memories of that morning flash through my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that day.

“It was all my fault,” I admit for the first time ever. I’ve always known I was the reason behind Lassie’s death, but I’ve kept that to myself all these years. The truth was just too hard to live with. I’m ashamed that my childish actions were the result of his death.

“What? How?” he asks in disbelief as his hand strokes my back to comfort me. I can feel his body trembling as he holds me. I know he loved Lassie as much as I did, so I’m sure he’ll be upset by my news. For some reason I don’t hesitate to tell him the truth, it’s time I confessed.

I keep my face buried in his chest. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I don’t want to see the judgement in his eyes when he hears what I have to say. “After you left, I was so angry with your stepfather. I knew in my heart he was part of the reason you went away. Every day, for weeks, I threw Lassie’s droppings over the back fence into his yard. It was my revenge. My way of saying ‘fuck you’ for the way he treated you when you were here. At the time it felt so good. I knew it would piss him off, I just didn’t know how much.” I feel his body stiffen.

“Did he do something to him?” he asks, grasping my shoulders and pulling me back so he could see my face. Yes he did. Fucking arsehole. I hope he rots in hell.

“Yes,” I choke out as memories of that morning flood my mind. I can clearly see the anger cross his handsome features when I admit that. He stares at me for a moment before pulling me back into his chest.