chills swept over her as she recalled his pained features after he’d read the surrogacy documents, his fury when she’d suggested his family might not want the baby. Right now he was rigidly controlled, icy. Much more intimidating.
Ethan had never been angrier. Not when a trusted friend had betrayed his loyalty. Not when a long-time girlfriend had cheated on him. Not even when a stupid, avoidable thing like a faulty brake had taken his sister and his best friend from him.
The rage building inside him was a culmination of years of their haranguing him to conform to their views, virulent criticism of his own choices. Their deplorable treatment of Leon and Louise. Plus a deep conviction that defending Alina was paramount—above anything he had ever done. Or ever would.
He rose to his feet, taking her with him, acutely aware that his teeth had ground together and his free hand had balled into a fist. One glance at Alina’s face and his only thought was to get out of there, so he could beg her forgiveness for subjecting her to this poisonous atmosphere.
‘This charade is over.’
‘Ethan, we—’
He flicked his hand, silencing his mother, dismissing both parents. Tenderly brushing a curl from Alina’s brow, he kissed her forehead. ‘Let’s go home, darling.’
He turned his head as they reached the door, subliminally noting their gobsmacked expressions.
‘Stay away from our home. Any calls will not be answered or returned.’
* * *
The son who’d always been the mediator had finally rebelled.
Ethan refrained from gunning his car as they left the property. The fierce urge to put distance between him and his parents was tempered by the knowledge that he had the most precious cargo.
He had no doubt they’d blame Alina, having always previously claimed to their friends that it was business commitments that had caused his withdrawal from their social world. Damn. Idiot. He ought to have insisted their first meeting be held in a restaurant, where they’d have had no choice but to be socially polite.
Probably wouldn’t have changed the end result.
He glanced across, met wounded eyes in an ash-white face and hit the brake, swinging into the kerb. He flung off his seatbelt, hauling Alina into his arms as he fumbled for her clasp. Holding her against his heart, breathing in her subtle aroma, was so liberating after the overpowering room they’d left behind, his anger began to dissipate.
‘I needed this. Needed your sweetness.’ He stroked her back, brushed her hair with his lips. ‘I’m sorry, Alina—forgive me for taking you there. You’ve done nothing to deserve the way they treated you. Nothing.’
She gave a muted sound suspiciously like a sob into his chest. He threaded his fingers thorough her hair and tilted her head up. Wanted to wipe the deep sorrow in her eyes away for ever. Hated that he didn’t know how. Her trembling lips broke his heart.
‘Why are they like that? No one’s ever treated me as if I’m nothing, not good enough to be polite to. No one—in all the places I’ve been.’
‘And they’ll never get another chance.’
‘No.’ She pushed away, shaking her head. ‘They’re your parents, Ethan, your family. Don’t lock the door. Life can change in a split second and then it’s too late to go back. We both know that.’
He threw his head back against his seat, closed his eyes. He did know, and it hurt like hell. Her self-deprecating laugh penetrated the anguish.
‘I think, somewhere deep in my head, I expected them to accept me the way Colin’s parents did.’
His eyes flew open at the mention of her husband. She sat, half turned towards him, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. He held his breath, didn’t dare move a muscle.
‘We met when he was twenty, still at uni. I was only seventeen, and a major distraction to his studies, yet his parents welcomed me, treating me like a loved daughter. They were so thrilled when...’
Lord, it was so hard not to reach for her as she painfully struggled for the next word.
‘When M... M... Michael was born. We were a real family.’
She went silent. Seemed immobile. Waiting was excruciating, but he sensed there was more she wanted to say. For her own sake.
‘They’re all gone. I’m not.’ Her head came up, eyes big and dark with despair. ‘Why just me?’ She began to tremble violently.
Now he moved, spurred by the stabbing pain that raked him. He enfolded her into his warmth. Desperate to comfort her, desperate for comfort himself. She’d been the only survivor. She might have died too.
Headlights lit up the windscreen. Alina pulled back, blinking, trying to regain composure. She hadn’t spoken about the accident since it had happened. Why now? Why to Ethan?
‘Take me home. Please.’
He didn’t move, kept a loose hold on her, his features grey and heartrending, his eyes dark and tortured.
‘Ethan?’
His shoulders shook as he shuddered. His eyes refocused.
‘Home. Yes, let’s go home.’
* * *
When they arrived at the apartment Alina stayed Ethan’s hand when he reached for the light switch.
‘Leave them off.’
The lights from the city gave the room a soft glow, a more confiding atmosphere. He’d defended her against his parents’ insinuations; he deserved to know more than the half-reveal she’d given him. At least the meagre details she hadn’t been able to avoid learning.
She poured herself a glass of water, and took her defensive place on the settee. Ethan followed with a cold beer—the drink he usually favoured in afternoons. When he saw the way she was huddled in the corner his brow furrowed, but he chose the other end, folding one leg up, his body towards her.
She drank half the glass to clear her throat, then fixed her gaze on the window. There was no emotion in her flat, detached voice.
‘We’d been on a week’s holiday, touring places near the New South Wales and Victoria border. The plan was to stop for the night, then drive home. Colin and his dad were both careful drivers, changing over whenever we stopped. It was getting dark, and I heard them talk of the next town being about thirty minutes away before I fell asleep.’
Ethan gripped the cold metal can so hard it began to buckle. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe. He knew what was coming, didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t avoid it. Couldn’t take his eyes from her pale, impassive face and blank, unseeing eyes. He watched her drain her glass, swallow with difficulty, and shiver as she drew in breath.
‘Everything’s a blur after that. Screams, thuds, screeching metal. Voices and sirens. That hospital smell. I don’t remember who told me. Someone in the corridor mentioned a kangaroo and a semitrailer. I didn’t want to know—never want to know.’
