Chapter Twenty-One

To: Cora.Cabot@CarsonCabotLiterary.com

From: Anderson.Cabot@CarsonCabotLiterary.com

Subject: Manuscript revisions

Cora, thanks for sending through your revisions last night. I can tell you worked very hard on them.

I don’t know how to say this…

While I know you have a great deal of passion, I cannot represent you simply because you are my daughter. That is not what’s best for my business. Nor, I think, is it what’s best for you. I also worry it would be unfair to lead you on, knowing that you’ll be hurt. Maybe I have indulged this dream too much. Only a very small percentage of writers get published, let alone have the talent and stamina to sustain a career in this industry.

The last thing I want is to see you end up like your mother, tortured and twisted by criticism. I don’t think your writing is at the right level, and I’m honestly not sure if further work will get it to that point. I worry that your beautiful spirit will be broken by this. Maybe it’s time to think about how you can direct your efforts inside the industry in some other way. Perhaps we could talk about training you to be an agent instead.

Your father,

Anderson.

Trent shouldn’t have looked at Cora’s email. It was wrong, an invasion of privacy…yadda yadda yadda.

But he did. He looked. And he read. And his blood boiled as though he were plugged directly into the core of the earth. How dare he try to crush her dreams. How dare he tell her that no amount of work would be enough.

How dare he tell her that she couldn’t grow.

Without thinking, Trent emailed himself a copy of the manuscript file, because Cora’s heart could not be shattered without a second opinion. His dad would be more than happy to read her book and give some honest thoughts. And while Trent himself wasn’t much of a reader, he was certain Cora had talent. There was something musical about her words—the way she spoke and wrote, the way she described things. Plus, that English professor of hers had urged her to write.

That had to mean something, right?

For whatever reason, Anderson Cabot didn’t seem to want to help his daughter. Yet every time he tried to talk to Cora about it, she clammed up and made excuses for him. The whole cruel-to-be-kind thing? Bullshit. If he wanted to help Cora, he wouldn’t tell her not to write. Anyone could see she was passionate about books, and what right did her father have to tamp that down?

Sure, Trent’s family wasn’t perfect. They’d kept a huge secret from him for his entire childhood. Finding out his parents weren’t his real parents had been…well, devastating. He still remembered the day, clear as a bell, still remembered the tears in his mother’s eyes and the choked-up voice of his father.

He still remembered that sick feeling in his gut and the question swirling in his mind: What if Adam and Nick and Jace and Liv decide I’m not one of them anymore?

He understood why it was hard for his mother to talk about losing her twin sister, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his adoptive parents loved him. So much so, that he didn’t ever think of them as adoptive. They were simply Mum and Dad.

Yet he still hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell his siblings the truth. The longer it went on, the harder it became to think about voicing his big secret.

Which meant Cora knew more about him than most people. He’d never discussed it with anyone aside from his parents—not even Rochelle, when he thought he was in love. It was the card he kept closest to his chest. Maybe he should have been happy that Cora was going away, taking the information with her to the other side of the world where it couldn’t upset the easy balance of his life.

But he couldn’t be happy about it. Not when it’d become obvious that he couldn’t watch her walk away without saying something. Without making it damn bloody clear that this wasn’t a temporary fling to him.

The only problem was…how to tell Cora? When it came to their bodies, they had no problem communicating. Sex came easily and was always good for them. They fit together physically. But emotionally and mentally?

That was a whole other ball game.

Shaking his head, Trent headed out of the house and hopped into his ute. With the window down, he cruised through Patterson’s Bluff, watching all the houses blur by. All these people had put a stake in the ground, built something for themselves. A space, a home.

They’d forged a life.

What the hell had he done in his thirty years?

Trent leaned his head back against the seat and pulled his car onto the highway. Sea air streamed in through the window, bringing back memories. Patterson’s Bluff was already his home. So why had he been so afraid to make a commitment by finally getting started on his house? Why did the thought of him chasing after what he wanted fill him with ice-cold fear?

He pushed Cora to chase her dreams, saying she deserved encouragement. He believed she could do anything and that she didn’t need anyone’s approval.

“Easier to give advice than to take it,” he muttered to himself.

The ute zipped along the coast, eating up the distance, and before too long he was easing onto the off-ramp, entering Sorrento.

Sorrento was kind of like Patterson’s Bluff’s older, more popular big sister. It was a wealthier town, with a bustling tourism industry, streets dotted with fancy sports cars, and shops selling random trinkets and foodstuffs that were hideously overpriced simply because someone had slapped a label on it calling it “artisanal.” It was a beautiful town, but not really Trent’s kind of scene.

Today, however, he was here on business.

Personal business.

Nick had pushed him into setting up a meeting with an architect whose specialty was designing modern homes with a coastal twist. Their company mantra was all about sustainability and protecting the environment, which Trent appreciated. And while he’d resisted the meeting, eventually he’d broken down and looked at the website. Nick was right, their designs were amazing.

How can you tell Cora to go for it and then hold yourself back?

He couldn’t answer that question without sounding like a hypocrite. Being with her, seeing her battle against her fears and grow her confidence, had shown him something important—it was easy to stay still. To be stagnant.

To let the past bind you to one spot.

It was harder to push through all that and be honest about what you truly wanted. And after talking out in the open about his big secret, after being with a woman whose courage inspired him, Trent could honestly say that he wanted more.

More from life. More from himself.

He parked the ute in front of a row of sleek shop fronts. The architect’s office was on the second floor, apparently right above a jeweler. He walked along the quaint strip, past the fashion boutique and an antique store and a hipster coffee place full of dudes with man buns.

Then he found the jewelry store. To its right was a single glass door leading to a staircase. But something caught his eye in the glittering window of the shop. There were clusters of fancy-looking things—diamond rings the size of marbles and watches that probably cost more than he spent on his first three cars combined.

But it wasn’t any of that flash that got his attention. It was something far humbler. At the bottom right-hand corner of the display was a cluster of gold necklaces so fine, a subtle breeze might snap them in two. Each one had a thin gold disc hanging from it, with a simple image engraved. There was one with a flower, one with a seashell, and one with a star and moon.

But it was the one with the caterpillar that had him rooted to the spot.

Metamorphosis. Change. Growth.

These were Cora’s ideas, and the things he’d shied away from in the past. But she’d shown him that it was possible to keep moving, even in the face of bad things, while he’d clung to his unaffected smiles and flippant charm as a way to keep the world at arm’s length.

I don’t want her to go.

The words circled around in his brain, chasing themselves like a puppy chasing its tail. What if Trent took a leap this time? What if, instead of pretending he didn’t care or that he wasn’t affected, he told the truth?

What if he told Cora that she meant something to him? Like, really meant something? Not sex or laughs or a fun time. Not a temporary fling. But something more. Something…real.

Looking at his phone, he knew he was going to be late to his meeting. But the architect would have to wait. Trent had to make a purchase.

…

He waited until Cora’s last day in Australia, oscillating between blurting out his desires and driving back to Sorrento to return his gift. But, for once in his life, Trent wasn’t going to take the easy route.

“Don’t think about the negatives, think about the positives.” He looked around at what he’d created—the perfect romantic scenario in which he could reveal how he felt about Cora, hopefully with a positive response.

Emphasis on the hopefully. Because romantic gestures weren’t Trent’s forte. He was a simple guy—a steak and two veg guy, a small town, enjoy a few beers and watch the stars kinda guy. Maybe Cora was used to private limos and champagne dinners and little blue boxes.

But to Trent that wasn’t love.

Love? You’re jumping straight to love with a woman you’ve known only a month?

But this month hadn’t been any ordinary month. They’d lived together, played house, and gotten to know each other in ways he’d never known another person. They’d shared their dreams. Shared secrets about themselves.

It was like cramming a whole year of a relationship into thirty days.

He walked out onto the back deck and stepped down onto the grass of Liv’s backyard. A red and white checked picnic blanket was sprawled out, with a basket of food from all the best local vendors—bread from the Wattle & Oat bakery, wine from T’Gallant, fruit from the local market, and his mum’s town-famous lamingtons.

“You beauty!” Joe the cockatoo arrived with a squawk and a flap of his wings, settling down next to the blanket and doing his little waddle across to where the cheese sat.

Trent clapped his hands. “This isn’t for you. I’ve got something very special planned here and I don’t want your grubby little claws messing it up.”

The cockatoo craned his head up as if to say, Who, me? I wouldn’t do that.

“Yeah right, I know better than to trust a scavenger.” Trent tried to shoo the bird away, but Joe would not be so easily scared from the feast of all feasts. “Come on, this is a special night. I don’t want you messing it up.”

“Arrrk! Bugger off.” Joe bobbed his head.

“No, you bugger off.” Trent crouched down to meet the bird at eye level. “Seriously, mate. Do me a favor, okay?”

Joe cocked his head. “Pretty boy.”

“I’ve got a special lady staying tonight, and I want it to be romantic.” Trent reached for a cracker and snapped it in half, the bird’s beady black eyes laser locked on the tasty morsel. “I’m going to pour her a drink, feed her some delicious food, and ask her…”

His gaze flicked to the back door, catching movement inside the house. A glimpse of Cora’s long legs and wild hair could be seen as she dropped her bag and keys onto the dining table.

“I’m going to ask her to give us a chance.” Trent sucked in a breath and gave the cracker to the bird, who munched happily, sending a shower of cracker crumbs all over the blanket. Sighing, Trent gave him the other half and brushed the mess away. “So give me some space, all right? This is a big deal.”

Understatement of the century. Trent never thought he’d be in this position again, liking someone enough to put himself in the firing line. Sure, there’d been other women he’d crushed on and dated briefly—but none of those times had felt real. They were pleasing distractions. Enjoyable detours from adult life. Not something that would stop him in his tracks and make him question everything he thought he wanted.

But Cora did.

And tonight he was going to ask her to give them a chance. “Got any advice, old bird?”

Joe the cockatoo stomped around, swinging his head from side to side. The crest fanned out, showing off brilliant gold feathers.

“I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take it as a sign of encouragement.” He laughed. “You’d like it if she stayed, wouldn’t you, buddy? Yeah, me too. It’s unexpected, but she makes me…”

The back door swung open, and Cora emerged, a floor-length cotton dress in yellow and white swirling around her feet. Her fluffy cloud of hair bounced around her shoulders as she walked, and the smile on her lips was brighter than the most brilliantly polished diamond.

For a moment Trent wondered if his heart had stopped. “She makes me wild.”

“Bloody oath!” Joe bobbed up and down as Cora came closer.

“What are you two whispering about?” she asked, her gaze swinging from bird to man and back again. Trent gave a cavalier shrug, belying the anxious knotted sensation in his stomach. “I don’t know which one of you is more trouble.”

She walked straight over to Trent and slipped her arms around his neck, rising up on her toes and kissing him. His muscles automatically tightened, sealing her body to his, telling her what he wanted without words.

But the kiss was broken up by the absolute silence at foot level. And where Joe Cockatoo was concerned, silence was the most concerning sound he could make. Trent pulled away and dropped his gaze to the red and white checked blanket.

Joe froze mid-lunge, his open beak hovering over a cubed piece of cheese as though someone had suddenly cast him in stone.

“Don’t you dare,” Trent said in his most authoritative voice.

There was a tense standoff as time slowed down, then the bird made his move. He snatched the cheese and scuttled across the blanket, knocking over a punnet of strawberries in his great escape before flapping his wings and launching himself into the air. He settled in a tree at the side of the yard, gloating over his prize.

“Bloody bird,” Trent muttered.

But Cora watched the exchange with pure and utter joy, her blue eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with happiness. “You leave my Joe alone. He’s doing what’s required to survive.”

For some reason, the words struck him as more than an observation about a greedy, scavenging bird. But Trent would not be deterred from sharing his feelings with Cora. Too many times in his life he’d stayed quiet—the years after he found out the secret of his birth, all the times he’d suspected Rochelle was cheating on him but didn’t want to confront her. Every time someone called him the town charmer, not knowing it was a fabrication.

He smiled and shrugged it off as a joke, hid behind his charming smile and flippant tone no matter how much he was hurting.

Yet being with Cora made him feel like, for the first time in his life, maybe he didn’t have to censor himself. The way she wrote, with such passion and honesty, had inspired him to speak his own truth.

“What’s all this for?” she asked, taking a step back and surveying his work. “I thought we were going to grill some sausages and have a quiet night in, since we’ve got a big party tomorrow.”

The cricket team had wanted to send Cora off in style—with beers and Aussie staples like parmas and chips at the White Crest. They’d also invited Trent’s siblings and partners, the staff at Just One More Chapter, and everyone else whom Cora had befriended during her holiday. But Trent was hoping it was going to be more of a surprise party than a send-off: Surprise! Cora isn’t leaving after all.

Or, more realistically, maybe she’d be leaving for a short while and then coming back with more than one suitcase. Was it crazy to ask a person to upend her life? To take such a big chance on something so fresh and new?

But Trent had reasoned that Cora was miserable in Manhattan. She worked a job that didn’t fulfill her, had a broken relationship with her parents, no partner or pets waiting for her return. After all, she came here looking for an escape.

Their life could be amazing. Building a house together while she focused on writing her book. Building a life that healed them both from the past.

“I wanted to do something special,” he said, taking her hand.

“You’re not going to make me cry, are you?” Her brows pinched. “To be honest, if there was a way for me to slink off without saying anything, I would. I’m terrible at goodbyes.”

Trent tried to ignore the stone settling in the pit of his stomach. There was no point being scared. All he had to do was man up and say it.

Don’t chicken out now—you know she’s one of a kind. This is one of a kind.

“So don’t say goodbye.” Each syllable was like digging a spoon into his chest and scooping out chunks of his heart.

Yeah, it sounded a bit gross. But that’s exactly how it felt.

Cora blinked, shaking her head. “You really think I should have left without saying anything?”

“No, not that.” Ugh, so much for being smooth. How had his famous charm deserted him now? “I mean, there’s no need to say goodbye if you don’t go. So…don’t go.”

She opened and closed her mouth for a second, like a stunned goldfish. A cuter than hell stunned goldfish. “I…”

“Stay.” He filled the gap with his desire. With his wish.

“Here, in Australia?”

“Well, I was hoping specifically in Patterson’s Bluff.” He raked a hand through his hair, desperate to do something with his hands. He’d always been better with his hands than with words. “With me.”

“With you?” she squeaked.

For a moment there was nothing—no sound coming out of her mouth, seemingly no blood in her veins—if her pallor was anything to go by. Okay, so she was shocked. That wasn’t a total surprise. Shock wasn’t a bad reaction… Was it?

Shit. What the hell are you doing?

“Is that such an outrageous suggestion?” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I thought you had a good time here.”

“Oh my God, Trent. Of course I did. I had an amazing time with you.” Her features softened. “But I can’t pack up my whole life and move to another country because I had good sex.”

The words were like being slapped across the face. “I’m not asking you to stay for sex, Cora. I can get that anywhere.”

She winced. Okay, so that’s not how he’d wanted that statement to come out.

“I’m aware you can have any woman you want,” she said stiffly. “Although I’d rather not think about you with anyone else, to be perfectly honest.”

See, that was a sign she felt something for him.

“That came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is that we’re more than good sex. You’d be staying for more than good sex…” Why was this so hard? He’d seen enough of those cheesy romantic comedy movies to know the whole big declaration at the end was what won a person over. He couldn’t beat around the bush now. “Cora, I like you a hell of a lot. I like us. I like the way I am with you and the way you are with me. I like holding you and listening to your dreams and getting excited over things I’d never be excited about on my own.”

Her eyes were glassy, and she clasped her hands in front of her pretty yellow dress. “I like us, too.”

“So stay. Move here and work on your novel and…be with me.” There it was, the thing he wanted most out in the open. Soft and squishy and fearing the worst. Another word hovered on his tongue, a word he’d sworn he’d never say again.

Love.

He loved Cora. Against every fear in his heart and every scrap of logic telling him it was utterly and completely ridiculous, what he felt for Cora was real. It was forever. He wanted to build them a house and a life. He wanted to see her soar.

“I…I can’t stay.” She shook her head. “I have a life in New York, an apartment. I have a job.”

“A job you don’t like.”

Her eyes cast downward. “Not forever. My dad has been talking about maybe making me an agent and…”

She smiled like she was happy about this offer, but Trent could hear the pain in her voice. It wasn’t what she wanted.

“I could help other writers achieve their dream of being published,” she finished.

“What about your dream?”

“I’m still working on it. But that’s why I need to go home.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said. “You told me you wanted to have a beautiful house by the water one day, somewhere to write and create. You could have that here.”

“But what about my family?” she asked. She was barely looking at him now, her hands white-knuckling one another. “I can’t leave them.”

“Your family, who treats you like dirt.”

“They’re still my family.”

It made his blood boil the way she clung to her loyalty when it sounded as though they’d done nothing to deserve it. “Family is what you make it. I know that more than anyone.”

“And where would I live, in your sister’s house?” She gestured to the back door. “A few weeks ago, you didn’t even seem to care where you would sleep after Liv came home, and now all of a sudden you want to plan a future?”

She was freaking out; he could see the wildness in her eyes. Hear it in the heightened pitch of her voice. Maybe he’d gone too hard, too soon. Perhaps he should have eased into this conversation more.

If she wanted to stay, she wouldn’t be freaking out.

“Now I have a reason,” he said. “I want to build it for us.”

“Trent, everything you do in life is for someone else.” She shook her head. “You have to want to do things for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Instead of building your home, you’re here doing things for Liv. Whenever Nick calls you for extra work, you drop whatever you’re doing. If I asked you to give me the moon, you’d find a way to get a lasso around it.”

He blinked. “Am I missing something? I thought it was a good thing to be kind to others.”

“Not when it always comes at a sacrifice to yourself.” She bit down on her lip. “You act like you have to earn your place, but the fact is, people love you here. You don’t need to earn anything.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me asking you to stay—you’re deflecting.”

She sighed. “My point is…we’re still caterpillars. We still have so much work to do, so much growth we have to experience before we’re ready to be butterflies together. We’re not…we’re not ready.”

Trent glanced at the ground, to the little wrapped box that contained the gold pendant, and frowned.

“The way you see yourself, you’ll never be a butterfly,” Trent said. “You think you’re so broken and so unlovable that you’ve become that way. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“I don’t think that.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Why else would you go back to the parents who’ve done nothing but belittle you? You don’t think you deserve any better.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. This was not going the way he’d hoped. “Don’t you think it’s possible for two people to grow together? To change together? If you had to be perfect to be worthy of love, then nobody would ever be loved.”

“You forgave your family for lying to you for more than a decade, yet you can’t understand why I keep hoping that I can turn things around with mine? That’s hypocritical.”

“He wants to crush your dreams, Cora. For crying out loud, he basically told you to give up!”

The second the words left Trent’s mouth, he wanted to snatch them back. Shit. He hadn’t planned to broach the topic of the last letter from Cora’s father in such an emotional fashion.

“You read my emails. Wow.” She took a step backward, shaking her head.

“I didn’t go looking. Your laptop was on the table and it was open…” Okay, and maybe he’d nudged the track pad so her screen would light up. But he hadn’t done anything more than that…except sending his father Cora’s file without her permission. Crap. Okay, so maybe he’d majorly overstepped. But it all came from a good place. “He should never have told you to quit.”

“That’s none of your business.” Her cheeks were bright pink now, her eyes blazing like twin blue flames.

“If it’s hurting you, then I want to make it my business. He has no right to bring you down like that. Why can’t you see how toxic they are?” It was like beating his head against a brick wall. It made absolutely no sense to Trent that she would leave a place where she could be loved and included to go back to a place that by all her accounts was cold and unwelcoming. Back to people who were happy to cut her down with their words. “Are you so desperate for a family that you’ll go back to them simply because they’re related to you?”

Her eyes widened as if he’d slapped her.

“I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I meant.” He held up a hand, but something told him the damage had already been done.

“It’s not your place to tell me what my family should be like,” she said quietly. It was as if the flames had been extinguished with his carelessness, and for some reason the quiet felt so much worse than her anger. “You of all people should know that family isn’t always perfect.”

At least my parents love me.

He bit back the words because, even though they were true, they felt spiteful. And he didn’t want to treat Cora like that—he’d hoped that by showing her what it might be like to be part of a cohesive unit, she’d want to stay. That she’d see how much better her life could be.

But he’d clearly underestimated the pull her parents had on her.

“Bloody hell, Cora. I care about you.” Now he was laying it all out on the line, opening himself up further when she’d given him no reason to. No encouragement.

If she walked away now, it wouldn’t be because he’d kept his feelings a secret—and that meant he’d live without regrets. Because, for the first time ever, he was showing someone all his cards. Leaving nothing unsaid.

For too long, he’d kept secrets like rocks in his pockets, not telling people about his true identity for fear they’d reject him. And maybe Cora had a point; he did put other people’s needs first. A lot. He could say it was the “Walters Way,” as his dad liked to espouse, helping those around them without pause.

But if he was being truly honest with himself, that was the easy cover. The fact was, he did feel the need to earn his place. To buy people’s love with good deeds, instead of being himself and trusting that his siblings would love him anyway.

It sat uncomfortably in his chest, as though she’d revealed a part of him he’d wanted to ignore.

“You’re not supposed to care about me,” she said, shaking her head.

“I know,” he said. “But I do.”

…

It was like a bad dream and the best dream she’d ever had rolled into one. Cora couldn’t think straight, because her head was so stuffed full of battling emotions that there wasn’t space for logic. For reason.

Trent cared about her.

And the hard truth of it was, she cared about him, too. A heck of a lot.

More than she’d ever cared about Alex, she realized on reflection. Because Alex had never known her the way Trent did, he’d never encouraged her the way Trent had. He’d never seen her tiptoeing around her dreams and shoved her in the right direction no matter how terrifying and thrilling it was.

But she couldn’t stay here. Because that would mean sacrificing her other dream—the one she’d had since she was a girl, staring at her bedroom door and willing one of her parents to come and save her battered little heart. If she left her life in Manhattan behind to move to Australia, then her father would forget about her. He barely made time for her now, despite them working in the same office and living a block from each other. If she left the country…

Well, he might forget that she existed altogether.

“You’re killing me, Trent.” She swung her gaze over the beautiful picnic he’d put together—from the ripe, sweetly scented strawberries to the bottle of wine and the little paper bag from the bakery she’d grown to love during her time here. “Why can’t we appreciate this for what it was and walk away with some good memories?”

“Because a good memory of you isn’t enough. I don’t want to remember you, like it was some happy blip in my life.” He was so sincere, it radiated out of his face, his goodness gripping her heart and squeezing. “I want us to keep making memories.”

This wasn’t how her trip was supposed to end. “I never came here looking for forever. It was supposed to be a distraction from my real life.”

“And this wasn’t real?”

“This was a vacation fantasy, where I was going to lick my wounds in a beautiful place and get my head back on straight so I could go home and fix everything.”

“Fix everything?” His nostrils flared, and something dark and sharp cut across his face. “You’re planning to go back to your ex?”

Had she wanted that reconciliation? Maybe for a moment as she’d packed her bags back in Manhattan. Maybe a bit during the flight over when tears burned her eyes. But after that? Not once.

Alex wasn’t the guy for her.

Trent had shown her that. The way she’d felt in his arms, waking up next to him, walking around his block of land and listening to his plans… She’d felt true passion for the first time ever. Alex was a good person, but he hadn’t made Cora’s heart soar the way Trent did. He hadn’t believed in her the way Trent did.

“No, I’m not. It’s over, completely.” She sucked in a breath, her chest protesting the movement as though her heart was physically bruised. “But my life is still in New York.”

“What life?” He threw up his hands. “That’s the part I’m having trouble understanding. Everything you’ve said about that place has painted an ugly picture, and yet it seems to have this hold on you.”

Maybe it did. Maybe it was because it felt like leaving Manhattan for good would mean admitting failure, whereas if she kept trying…

But for how long?

Cora’s heart felt weighed down. Heavy. She’d failed at everything she’d ever tried to achieve—her music performance career was a bust, she’d never been able to hold down a relationship, she wasn’t speaking to her mother, her manuscript was a disaster, her father didn’t think she had potential to succeed as an author…

You can keep trying.

Being the caterpillar meant working hard for change, and she still had such a long way to go. Her fingertip drifted over the top of her thigh, to where her tattoo was hidden behind the length of her cotton dress.

“Am I…am I seeing something that isn’t here?” Trent asked.

For a second she thought about lying. It would be easier to say she felt nothing for him. To say that leaving wasn’t going to shatter her heart into a million pieces. To push down her emotions and protect herself with falsities.

But what kind of person would that make her?

“I care about you, too, Trent. A lot.” She blinked back the prickly feeling in her eyes, determined to be honest but strong. “These last few weeks have been incredible.”

“But?”

“I can’t stay.” Her voice trembled. “I know you don’t understand the relationship I have with my family. It’s messy and imperfect and…yes, it’s difficult. For someone who had such loving parents, of course you would find my situation strange. But all my life I wanted to make my dad proud, and even though it never seems to turn out right…I can’t give up now.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. She could see he was closing himself off, shutters going up and locks engaging and walls fortifying around him. “I understand.”

“You don’t, really. But that’s okay.” She attempted a watery smile, but her lips refused to turn up. Inside, it felt like her heart was slowly being chipped away, each word cleaving off another piece until there was nothing left but an unrecognizable lump. “It’s something I have to do for myself.”

Something that looked a whole lot like respect flickered in his eyes. “So this is it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me in the house tonight,” she said, biting down on her lip. “Maybe I could crash at Maddy’s place. I can pack up and—”

“No, this was supposed to be your holiday. Not mine.” He reached out and touched the side of her face, and for a second Cora wanted to snatch all her words back and promise him everything. “I’ll head out tonight and give you some space to pack. I can take you to the airport the day after tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.

“I know. I want to.” He dropped his hand. “Someone needs to see you off.”

That was Trent in a nutshell. Even after she’d rejected him, pushed him away…he was still here, helping her. Being a good person. It was a good thing she wasn’t staying, because Trent deserved someone who would sacrifice everything for him.

“You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” she said.

But Trent didn’t reply. He simply nodded and walked toward the house, leaving the beautiful picnic spread behind him as though it now meant nothing. A sinking sensation settled in the pit of Cora’s stomach. Saying goodbye would be brutal, but it was for the best.

This was never meant to be anything permanent, and all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to change that.

She knelt down onto the picnic blanket and began to pack up the food. It seemed like such a waste to leave it there, though she was sure Joe would have enjoyed the feast. She put lids on the dips and closed the strawberry container. As she was cleaning up, she came across a slim black box. It was beautifully flocked, and the velvet almost melted under her touch.

Cora’s gaze drifted to the house. Should she open it? Or would it only make things harder in two days when she would leave Australia for good?

She couldn’t find it in herself to peek. Because her control was balancing on a knife’s edge as it was, and her grip on her childhood dream felt looser and more precarious than ever. If she looked and her heart exploded…

No, she couldn’t stay. The hard part was over; now it was time to go home and think about how she could put her life back together.