I Want You Back
Chapter One
Jean took her seat on the bus, willing herself to move past the feeling of hurt and disappointment. She'd been so foolish to think she'd seen him at the bus stop. Surely he was busy. This case, so wrapped up in his mother's tragic demise, was weighing heavily on him. Though he had taken the time to bake scones for her the day before. But perhaps that was just a bribe to get her to help him on his case. Yes, that was far more likely. They'd had moments before, of course, in the throes of emotion. But Jean had kid herself that he cared for her as more than a friend and confidante. He just didn't like change. That had to be it. He didn't want to lose someone he'd come to depended on for food and a clean house and an organized surgery and a sounding board for his ideas. He'd commented that she was smarter than he, but surely that was just a kind word from him. Despite his pigheadedness and lack of social grace, he always was a frighteningly kind man with a great empathy for the plight of others. When he noticed. Rarely had he ever noticed her. But when he did…
She was shaken out of her reverie when the bus suddenly stopped. Jean looked out the window to see what was going on. They weren't even out of Ballarat yet. A flash of movement caught her eye and she looked up to the front of the bus.
And there he was. Lucien Blake was staring at her with an almost desperate look in his eye.
Jean felt her stomach do somersaults as he approached. She awkwardly moved to the side of the seat to give him space to sit beside her.
"Jean, I…"
"No. Don't say anything. Not yet," she insisted quietly. Her head was swimming. Why was he here? Had he flagged down the bus just to say goodbye to her? Could it be at all possible that her feelings were in any way really reciprocated by him? She'd just started to convince herself that it was a lost cause, that could never care for her the way she cared for him, and never would. Why, oh why, was he on the bus?
Lucien took Jean's hand in a manner she'd never quite experienced before. His large, slightly rough hands covered hers. He clutched at her longingly yet his caresses on the back of her hand were so terrifyingly gentle. Almost…loving.
He reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. When he pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her head, she couldn't resist the impulse to close her eyes, savoring the feeling of his beard on her forehead. Lucien tucked her under his chin and gave her a squeeze.
Jean felt every ounce of tension her body could hold. She was like putty in his arms, but everything inside her tightened like a vice grip. The tighter he held her hand, the tighter her nerves strangled her. This couldn't be real. This surely couldn't really happen to her.
But he didn't let go. He held onto her. He nuzzled into her hair and stroked her hand with his thumb and held on tight to her shoulder. From where her head rested on his chest, she could hear his heart beat in her ear. It wasn't frenzied, as hers was. No, his was steady and strong.
Jean had the strange feeling that they had swapped places. She wasn't used to being the insecure one. She had always prided herself on being steadfast and reliable, dependable and loyal. He had always been all over the place, drinking and having fits of depression and righteous anger. She'd spent so long taking care of him and loving each and every minute of it, even when he drove her absolutely batty. On occasion he'd tried to take care of her when she'd really needed it. And she had been grateful. In her weakest moments, he had held her in his arms as she cried, given her a hand to hold when she needed to be balanced. But while she was grateful for his presence in those moments, she'd hated herself for the vulnerability. Every moment he had to take care of her meant that she couldn't take care of him. And he needed it so much more than she. As Christopher had told her the last time she'd seen him, she had always carried on. No one had ever allowed her to consider anything else. No one until Lucien.
The time on the bus ticked by. The light outside slowly descended in the sky and the shadows grew longer. Eventually, Jean had to sit up.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he sputtered, removing his hand from her shoulders and attempting to release her hand.
But she held onto him. "My neck is starting to get a little stiff," she explained, stretching slightly. Jean didn't comment on it, but she wouldn't let him let go of her hand.
He smiled at the unexpected good fortune. He put his newly freed hand atop hers.
"How far are you travelling?" she asked.
"However far you go," he replied, looking into her eyes.
The intensity of his gaze made her nervous. His focus was unwavering, boring his sapphire blue into her turquoise green.
She blinked, breaking the spell. "Adelaide is a long way off. You haven't got any luggage, have you?"
A sheepish grin spread on his face. "I'm afraid I didn't make any arrangements before leaving. I just knew I couldn't let you go."
Jean didn't know what to say. She swallowed hard, begging herself to not show how overwhelmed she was, praying she wouldn't shake or cry. This was no declaration of love from Lucien. She wouldn't allow herself to even imagine it might be. Because if it was, her heart might just break.