Page 54 of Outback Secrets
He nodded. Oh yeah, he knew.
Growing up, Liam had almost become numb to the bad news he saw on TV. The natural disasters, the terrorist attacks, the shootings, the wars in far-off countries … they were almost as unreal as the movies he watched. When one of them actually affected you, the shock was almost as palpable as the grief. ‘You’re very brave.’
She shook her head—‘No. I’m not brave at all’—and swiped at her eyes as if trying to ward off tears.
He grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table and by the time he turned back to her, she was sobbing. ‘Shit, Henri,’ he said, yanking out a tissue and thrusting it at her, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. ‘What’s wrong?’
She sniffed a few times, wiped her eyes, sniffed some more, then, ‘You asked how you go back up in the air after a crash? Well, the truth is … I haven’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had to abandon the mustering contract because the aircraft needed fixing but they were almost finished anyway. I thought I was fine. I drove across to the Riverina where I was supposed to start a rice contract that would take me right up to Christmas.’ She paused. ‘But when I got there, I just froze. I couldn’t even bring myself to climb into the aircraft.’
Her face crumbled and suddenly the tears came hard and fast. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m such a stuff-up.’
Liam moved off the armchair, lowered himself down beside her on the couch and pulled her into his arms. ‘No, you’re not. Geez, what you went through … being scared to fly again sounds like a perfectly normal reaction to me. Have you spoken to anyone about it?’
‘Just my boss. He was great, understanding. Told me to take some time off. See how I feel after Christmas.’ Her words were muffled as she sobbed into his chest. ‘I was going to tell Frankie, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m just so ashamed, and I can’t risk Mum finding out either.’
He didn’t need to ask why.
‘You’re the first person I’ve admitted it to,’ she said, pulling back. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘No, course not.’ He was used to people telling him things they couldn’t talk about with anyone else, and he always kept their secrets. ‘But what are you going to do about it?’
Henri inhaled deeply and then puffed out a breath. ‘I guess if I still can’t fly after Christmas, I’ll have to talk to a professional or something, but … what if they can’t fix me? What the hell am I supposed to do with my life if I can’t fly? It’s in my blood. It’s not only what I want to do, it’s what I need to do—it’s almost the same as breathing to me. I don’t know how to do anything else. I’m actually more scared of not flying than I am of dying, which is what makes this so infuriating.’
‘If that’s the case,’ he said, ‘then I reckon you’ll get in an aircraft again. I do. What about going up with another pilot? Someone you trust. See if you can handle flying when you’re not in control. You know … one step at a time.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Anyway, I didn’t mean to unload on you,’ she said, scrunching the soggy tissue in her hand into a ball, ‘but it actually feels good to have told someone. Thank you.’
‘Hey.’ He shrugged. ‘No problem; that’s what publicans do. We listen.’
She smiled. ‘Anyway, enough about me … truth or dare.’
Henri’s confession had been so heartfelt and raw that he’d almost forgotten they were still playing. It was getting late, but he didn’t feel he could abandon her just yet. ‘Truth.’
Surprise flashed in her eyes before she said, ‘How’d you get the scar on your shoulder?’
Of course it was coming—he’d distracted her once, she was bound to try again—but he had no excuse to distract her with a kiss up here. ‘I fell out of a tree as a kid. A stick stabbed me.’
Shit.A tree? A stick? Where the hell had that come from? It certainly wasn’t his usual story. He only hoped she hadn’t been talking to anyone else about it.
‘Did you have to get any stitches?’
‘Eleven.’ At least that bit was true.
‘Why did you hide the photo?’
‘Because talking about my family hurts,’ he admitted, his tone cool.
Most people would take the hint at that, but not Henri. ‘Was that why you left America? Did you fall out with them or something?’
Her questions felt like gunshots. Heat crept up his neck and his breath quickened. Until that moment, he’d never once felt compelled to break his silence, but weirdly he found himself considering actually telling her.
The question was … where the hell to start? He’d spent so many years not talking about his family, not ever speaking about what had happened almost exactly twelve years ago, that even when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said when the silence grew awkward. ‘That was three questions. You don’t have to answer any of them.’
‘Yeah.’ Maybe that was for the best. He pushed to a stand, unable to believe how close he’d come to spilling everything. ‘It’s getting late—or rather early. Maybe we should call it a night? I’m going to have a shower.’
Then, without waiting for a reply, he headed for the bathroom, hoping that by tomorrow morning, all the crazy urges he felt when she was close would have passed.