CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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It was Ella’s turn to belt on Jake’s door, which she did with relish. There was no reply after a minute so she belted again, feeling her earlier anger at his desertion return.

“I know you’re skulking around in there, Jake,” she yelled, giving the wide, fancy, frosted-glass-and-metal piece of art another bash. “Answer the damn door.”

The door swung open and Jake stood before her. He was wearing jeans and nothing else, his feet bare, a Corona in hand. He hadn’t shaved and it didn’t look like he’d slept either. She should have been repulsed.

She wasn’t.

He took a swig of his beer. “I do not skulk.”

Ella glared at him. “We need to talk.”

Jake swallowed his mouthful and concentrated on its bitter flavour against his tongue. She was wearing that cream peasant blouse from their first training session and treacherous thoughts of how sweet she tasted roared to life. He leaned a shoulder against his door frame.

“Nope. That’s one of the advantages of having quit.”

She sighed like she was holding onto the last thread of her patience. “Do you think I can come in and we could discuss some things?”

Jake straightened. “I have company.”

A few beats passed. Her expression went from placatory to downright scathing. “You’re having sex?” she asked incredulously, the last word almost spat out. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re tumbling around with some...bimbo while you should be at training?”

He winced as her voice hit the screech zone, the open disgust in her tone could have frozen boiling water.

“Jesus, Jake, surely you can keep it your pants for a couple of hours each afternoon?”

“Jake? Who’s there?”

He silently cursed Trish for her nosiness as Ella visibly tensed and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. His gaze fell to that lip, moist from the ministrations of her teeth. Working closely, but keeping himself distant, the last six months after one night in her bed had been damn near impossible. Having her on his doorstep in that smokin’ blouse wasn’t helping.

God knew he wanted to suck that lip into his mouth so badly he could barely see straight. His gaze drifted up. She was watching him.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as he called, “Wrong number,” over his shoulder.

Trish appeared from behind him. “Ella! Hi, did Pete send you to talk some sense into Jake too?” She gave Jake a playful slap on the arm. “Jake, don’t leave the poor girl standing on the doorstep.” She grabbed Ella’s arm and ushered her inside. “Go and put a shirt on,” she ordered.

Jake stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching the two women who, apart from his aunt, had been pivotal in his life. Ella’s hips swayed in her long brown skirt and he could see her bra strap as Trish led her away. Her ponytail swished from side to side with each swing of her hips.

Fuck.

He was in serious trouble. Both of them here, ganging up on him, Trish and their history, Ella and all their stuff — both modern and ancient.

And that damn blouse.

Ella followed Trish through Jake’s open-plan apartment. It was the epitome of rich, single man. Soaring ceilings with exposed ducting gave it an industrial feel and sleek chrome fixtures added to it. A staircase with wire railings and metal treads more at home in a factory than an apartment twisted up to a mezzanine level. Black leather couches, smoky glass tables and gun-metal grey rugs sparsely furnished the cavernous space.

Ella winced. She knew it would be like this. About as far removed from kitsch central as you could get.

Trish led her straight to the massive kitchen and opened the stainless steel fridge door. As much as she liked Miranda’s mother, a tiny part of Ella hated that she knew her way around Jake’s apartment so easily. That she could open the fridge door like she’d done it a thousand times before.

The familiarity hurt.

What was Trish doing here? Were Jake and she lovers? Ella’d wondered all along and now here they were, the evidence seemingly overwhelming.

The hot fire of jealously burned in her gut. Shit, shit, shit.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Trish said.

Already well lubricated with sherry, Ella didn’t argue as the other woman pulled out a bottle of white wine and placed it on the black marble top of the central island. She opened a cupboard, produced a glass that twinkled in the chrome down lights and poured a generous slug of Chardonnay.

“C’mon,” Trish said handing Ella the glass. “We’re on the deck.”

They passed a theatre area with black leather recliners and a TV screen that would have been right at home at an Imax, before stepping onto the deck. The railing consisted of smoky glass panels topped with tensile wire. There was more smoky glass for the table surrounded by ten aluminium chairs.

A welcome display of greenery cheered up one high grey boundary wall and attracted Ella like a bee to a flower. Hibiscus plants in a long terracotta planter had been trained into a low hedge and centred strategically. A large potted red chili plant butted against the hedge at the end closest to the railing and at the opposite end a dwarf lemon tree groaned with bright yellow fruit.

She guessed that was a smart investment for someone who drank as much Corona as Jake.

Several small shelves had been erected haphazardly on the wall above the hedge and were cluttered with pretty pots full of flowers: pansies and sweet peas, geraniums and fuchsias. Two massive staghorns hung higher on the wall and dark ivy crept decoratively over the spaces in between.

It was the only corner of Jake’s apartment that looked like it hadn’t been decorated by the Australian Metalworkers Union.

Ella fingered a red chili and admired its organic beauty.

“You like my handiwork?” Trish laughed. “Miranda and I keep buying him plants. And of course tending them, otherwise they’d be dead.”

It figured that the only part of Jake’s place that felt human and it belonged to Trish.

“This place is so bloody austere, don’t you think? All chrome and glass. I feel like I’m in a factory.”

The evidence of their relationship mounted and Ella drew in a deep breath to counter the pain. “Yes, it’s very...masculine.”

Trish laughed. “That’s one word for it. I prefer too much money, not enough give-a-shit.”

Ella laughed despite herself as she moved to the railing and took a sip of her wine. The sweeping view over the river was breathtaking and it would no doubt have delighted her at any other time but the words she wanted to say to Jake were churning over and over in her head and she’d hoped not to have an audience when she did it.

Especially if it was Trish.

Her relationship with Jake was making Ella crazy and she really, really wanted to hate the diminutive ex-cheerleader. But Trish Jones was just too damn nice to justify such a potent emotion.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Ella turned at Jake’s announcement. He had thrown on a black button-up shirt shot with a fine silver stripe. It blended effortlessly with his black and chrome furnishings and she disliked it on sight. He hadn’t bothered with the buttons and the river breeze tugged at its tails and his tattoo played peek-a-boo.

Okay, the shirt had its good points.

He pulled up a chair. “So is this going to be good cop, bad cop?”

He took another swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He placed the bottle on the table and it made a harsh tapping noise. He was looking at Ella belligerently and she couldn’t stand how he could be so unaffected when she was fighting for the life of her school, for her kids—and when that damn tattoo was lighting a fire in her knickers that was threatening to burn for the term of her natural life.

Trish turned to her. “You wanna be good cop?”

Ella shook her head. “Nope.”

“Looks like it’s just bad cop, bad cop,” Trish mused.

He sighed as Trish pulled up a chair beside him and Ella followed suit, sitting opposite. “Look, I can save you the trouble. Nothing you can say, either of you, will change my mind.”

Ella wanted to dump his beer over his head. “You can’t just quit, Jake. Not now.”

“Yes, I can. I did.”

“Jake,” Trish chided. “Miranda’s going to be very disappointed in you.”

“Well, Miranda’s going to have to get used to being disappointed. It’s a big, bad world out there.”

Ella watched their back and forth, not quite understanding but growing impatient. She wanted to cut to the chase. Deal with the situation she’d created and get Jake back on the field.

“I know what happened all those years ago,” she said, earning a startled look from both Trish and Jake. She shrugged. “I’ve been Googling. And I’m sorry I went behind your back and called the paper and stirred it all up again.”

Jake closed his eyes and expelled a breath as his past rushed out, swirling around him in all its vivid, sullied glory. He stared at his beer sullenly. Somehow the fact that Ella’s loathing of sport had kept her ignorant to his sordid decline had been refreshing. It had meant something that she didn’t know. Almost twenty years later the shame still clung and a part of him hadn’t wanted her privy to all the murky details. He wasn’t sure if he could bear to see the judgment in her eyes.

“I can’t undo it, Jake. I would, if I could. But I can’t. And those boys, the team, shouldn’t be punished for a mistake I made. Please come back and finish the job.”

Jake drained his beer and set it gently back on the table with grim resignation. “I can’t,” he said, glancing at Trish. “I need to lie low while this thing blows over. I can’t be out there.”

He could see Ella’s confusing as she looked from him to Trish then back again. “I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “It took a long while for the media furore to die down two years ago. There was a lot of pressure on me to name the mystery woman and that is not an option. She’s been through enough without the media beaming her nightmare into every living room in Australia.”

Ella nodded slowly, like she was finally getting it. “And by bowing out you’re hoping it’ll remain a non-story.”

Jake nodded wearily. “Give the woman a cigar.”

Ella’s lungs felt too big for her chest. What could she say to that? He was protecting a woman who had been sexually assaulted from being abused all over again by the media. It was decent and honourable and right.

Hanniford’s fate seemed petty by comparison.

“Pete will manage,” Jake said.

“Of course.” Ella nodded knowing she couldn’t push him when he stakes were so high. “I am sorry...”

Trish stood. The chair moved back with a harsh metallic scrape that set sent a chill down Ella’s spine.

“This is utterly ridiculous.” Trish glared at Jake. “I’m tired of this. It’s time, Jake.”

Jake shook his head despite Trish’s fierce face. “No.”

Trish nodded. “Yes. If John bloody Wells figures it out, then too bad.”

Ella frowned. “Who is John Wells?”

“A journo,” Jake muttered. “A very clever, very persistent journo. He’s almost connected the dots. He just doesn’t realise it.”

“Then so be it,” Trish said. “Miranda’s older now and I’m not the same scared little mouse I was back then. It was a long time ago. Maybe it’s time I got to tell my side of the story and hang the confidentiality agreement.” She turned to Ella. “Jake is protecting me. Tony Winchester raped me.”

For a moment after the startling announcement, Ella didn’t know what to say, what to think.

“Oh, Trish...I’m so, so sorry. That’s awful, just... terrible.”

The words seemed hopelessly inadequate for the ordeal Trish must have been through. The photo on the back of yesterday’s paper flashed through her mind: Jake in the foreground, her and Trish behind him. If this John Wells character was as determined and clever as Jake seemed to think, no wonder Jake had gone ballistic.

“Jake...” Ella shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I really

ballsed it up, didn’t I? Especially after all you’ve gone through to protect Trish —”

His harsh laugh cut her off. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Ella. Eighteen years ago, Tony Winchester raped Trish while I stood by and did nothing.”

Jake’s bitter words fell into the space between them like boulders into a shallow pond. Ella gasped.

“Jake,” Trish chided.

He shrugged. “As good as.”

Ella glanced from one to the other, her pulse fluttering at her wrists and temple.

It couldn’t be true, surely?

The Jake who’d voluntarily coached her team to a finals spot? Had spent a small fortune on uniforms and equipment? Had taught Cam some respect? Taken in Pete and Cerberus? Had defended her honour against Roger frigging Hillman?

Her Jake?

“No, Jake,” Trish said, grasping his shoulder. “How

many times do I have to say this? By the time you heard me screaming, it was already done.”

Jake picked up his empty bottle and absently rolled it between his palms, staring at the lemon wedge. “If I’d been more sober I would have realised what was going on.”

Trish squeezed his shoulder. “He was my boyfriend, Jake.

How could you have known?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let those goons stop me from breaking the door down.”

Ella could feel his guilt. Remorse and shame warred for top billing in his green gaze as a picture of what must have happened that night started to form in her brain.

“Oh, Jake,” she whispered.

Jake looked away as pity and something else warred in her gaze. Was it distaste? Reproach? There wasn’t any look she could give him that hadn’t stared back at him from the mirror for the longest time. But it still scratched deep into the murky swamp of his guilt pulling at the crust, lifting the ugly scab a little, making it bleed all over again.

“Jake was amazing,” Trish said, rising to his defence, ignoring his scowl. “Confronting Tony, wrapping me in his jacket — taking me home.”

Ella frowned. “Not to the police station?”

“I refused. I got hysterical when he mentioned it. I didn’t want to. Not right then. I was a mess. I was crying...shaking so hard. I just wanted to get away, go back to my house where I felt safe. Jake wanted me to go the next day but who was going to believe me, Ella? Tony and I were in a relationship. I went into the room with him more than willingly. Fooled around quite happily. I’d had a couple of drinks. I knew how these things went down. It’s never the guy who ends up looking bad.”

Trish shook her head, her gaze faraway. She shrugged. “I guess I was in shock. I loved Tony. We’d only been going out for a month but I think I fell for him the first time I laid eyes on him. He was so big and strong. He had this curly blond hair — I swear he looked like an angel. I couldn’t believe he was capable of that. I knew he was impatient with my decision to wait before taking our relationship to the next level but I never thought he’d just take what he wanted.”

“So the next day I went to the club instead,” Jake said grimly. “Told them everything. Demanded a police investigation. Demanded Tony be sacked.”

Jake glanced at Trish, his lips twisted into a derisive smile. It was hard to believe now he’d ever been that naive.

“I take it they didn’t quite see it your way?” Ella said.  

Jake snorted. “After a cursory investigation they closed ranks, offered Trish money to go away quietly. Had a confidentiality agreement drawn up.”

“They threatened Jake, too,” Trish said. “Told him he’d sit on the sidelines all season. That he’d be dropped from the team. That he’d never be picked for an Origin side. That he’d never play for Australia.”

“Hardball,” Ella murmured.

Jake nodded, thinking back over that time again. He’d broken the code. And there’s one thing he’d learned early, you don’t break the code. In times of trouble the clubs closed ranks around their players and you got on board with that or you got mown flat.

Trish grinned. “Jake told them they could stick their club and their agreement where the sun didn’t shine. That he’d rather never kick a ball ever again than play for a club that protected a rapist.”

Jake felt Ella’s gaze on him as he continued to inspect the bottle. “That was very noble of you.”

He dragged his gaze to hers. “No. Noble would have been me kicking down the door in the first place.”

Trish shook her head. “I think it’s time you stopped beating yourself up about it,” she said impatiently. “I’m the aggrieved person here, Jake. Not you. Let it go. I have.”

Trish gave his hand a squeeze. Ella tracked the movement. She could see they cared for each other; there was affection and familiarity. They’d obviously been through a lot together. It would be easy to condemn Jake for his inaction. But it seemed like it would have been too late anyway. And if Trish had forgiven him, who was she to judge?

“I signed the agreement,” Trish reminded him. “I took the money. I started a new life for myself. We both did.”

Ella’s heart banged to a painful standstill as Trish’s words took on another meaning. Had their solidarity spilled into their private lives? Had Jake fathered Miranda? It certainly made sense now she thought about it.

She couldn’t deny that a part of her had rejoiced when Jake had denied being with Rachel. She hadn’t really had a chance to figure out what that meant for them. But now it seemed kind of moot; he and Trish obviously had something special.

She studied Jake and Trish for a beat or two. She had to know. “Are you Miranda’s father?”

He spluttered into his beer as Trish laughed raising her hand to her mouth trying to smother her hilarity.

Ella’s heartbeat kicked back in again.

“Good grief, no. Jake and I aren’t...we don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re friends. Good friends. But there’s nothing romantic. Never has been. Miranda’s father was someone I was with briefly. He ran a mile when he found out I was pregnant. He was a jerk.” She shrugged. “I seem to attract them.”

Heat suffused Ella’s cheeks. She was embarrassed to be so wrong. But the relief was overwhelming. Jake was watching her with unfathomable eyes and she almost squirmed in her seat. “I’m sorry. It’s just you seem so...I thought —”

Jake’s gaze was unnerving and Ella lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she ended lamely.

“Don’t worry about it,” Trish assured her.

Ella was silent for a moment or two as she contemplated everything she’d heard today. Her heart went out to Trish. She regarded the diminutive blond woman sitting tall and straight opposite her like an Amazon.

“Doesn’t it stick in your craw to know that Tony Winchester got away with it?”

She nodded. “That’s why I couldn’t stand by two years ago and watch him walk over another woman. If I’d spoken up when he’d raped me, maybe she’d have been spared what I’d gone through.”

“So Jake spoke up,” Ella concluded as things started to fall into place.

“Yes.” Trish nodded slowly. “I couldn’t stand how the media were going on like Tony was this bastion of respectability. A happily married man, a great father, a stalwart of the community. Blah, blah, blah. And that’s when I realised that clubs were always going to defend their legends no matter what they did and I just couldn’t sit by and let them crucify her without them knowing he’d done it before.”

“But you couldn’t say anything because of the confidentiality agreement,” Ella said, putting two and two together.

“Yes. So Jake entered the fray for me, with all guns blazing. He went to the police and the media and told everyone that Tony had raped a woman in the past and the Seals had covered it up.”

Ella looked at Jake, a stupid welling of pride stretching the confines of her chest. She mightn’t know much about professional footy but it sounded like a suicide mission to her.

“I take it that wasn’t exactly the way to win friends and influence people.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let her go through with it. Apart from the agreement, she was exposing herself and Miranda to intense media scrutiny, the very thing we’d avoided all these years.”

“The media went into a frenzy,” Trish recalled. “The Seals closed ranks again. The Heroes’ management were furious.” Trish shook her head. “They gave him an ultimatum. Quit or be sacked.”

“I see,” Ella said as Jake rose from the table and headed for the railing. The breeze blew his shirt back as he leaned heavily against the glass panels and stared unseeingly at the river.

“Jake refused, forcing them to sack him, forcing them to have to publically defend their decision to get rid of the captain of one of the best teams in the NRL. Someone who was not only honourable but who, despite his age, was still playing brilliant football.”

She turned to Ella. “You should have been paying attention, Ella. You would have been so proud of him.”

Ella glanced at Jake. Or his back anyway. Two years ago? Around the time Rachel had died. That must have been why he’d been back in Huntley. Not his groin after all.

“Thanks for filling me in,” Ella said, smiling at Trish. “And please, I understand why Jake doesn’t want to push this. I really don’t want to bring any more crap down on your head. You’ve been through enough.”

“Nonsense,” Trish dismissed. “There are some things more important, bigger than me. I’ve brought Miranda up to believe in fighting for what’s right, sticking up for the underdog. And that’s us. We’re the underdogs. It’s time to stand up and fight.”

“Trish.”

Jakes voice held a weary warning but Trish shook her head. “What will happen, will happen, Jake, but you can’t walk out on those boys. Not now. And I know you don’t want to either. You’ve got them this far — you need to take them the rest of the way.”

Trish gave him a look dripping with steely determination as she stood, pushing the chair back. She turned away from him and bathed Ella with the same look. “Convince him for me,” she said and left.

Ella stared after her, her head spinning from the day’s revelations. She turned to find Jake inspecting her with brooding eyes and suddenly craved the diminutive blonde’s presence.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” he said, pushing away from the rail. “But I need another drink.” He picked up her half-finished wine. “I’ll top you up.”

Ella followed him into the kitchen and stood quietly while he busied himself. He passed her the refilled glass and popped the top on a Corona. He took a swig, leaning his butt against the granite bench top, his gaze never leaving her face.

“Well? Go on, say it. You must be dying to.”

The bitter edge to his voice prickled against her skin. What did he expect her to say? That she was disappointed in him? That she was saddened by his inaction? That he wasn’t the guy she thought he was? Because the truth was, she’d heard too much good stuff about him just now to justify grilling him over a stupid error of judgment that was ancient history.

“I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t already thought yourself.” She didn’t have to be a psychologist to see that what had happened that night to Trish still ate at him.

He threw his bottle cap into the bin on the other side of the kitchen with the precision of a trained athlete. “Damn right about that.”

“I think Trish is right. If she’s moved on, then perhaps you should too? Maybe it’s time to stop hating yourself, Jake.”

He stared at his bare feet for a moment or two. “Do you hate me?” he asked, piercing her with an anguished glance as he lifted his head.

Hot tears pricked the back of Ella’s eyes as she sucked in a breath. Did she hate him? Nothing could be further from the truth.

She loved him. Warts and all.

“No. Of course not. I think you got into a situation when you were young that wasn’t of your making and you couldn’t stop even though you think you should have. I think it made you angry and powerless. I think it still does.”

Jake gripped the side of the bench and expelled the breath he’d been holding. She was right. All these years later he still wanted to bring Tony Winchester down.

The silence between them grew and he couldn’t remember a time when he wanted her more. It’d been months since he’d touched her and on this climactic day, relief was a powerful aphrodisiac. It opened the flood gates on all the thoughts and actions he’d been trying to keep in check.

He wanted to rip that blouse off her so badly his fingers itched. But he resisted.

“You still want me to coach the team?”

She nodded. “They need you, Jake.”

“And what about you? What do you need?”

She blushed and lowered her eyes. “That doesn’t matter.”

Jake reached out for her, snagging her hip and dragging her to him, placing his beer on the bench behind him. “Of course it does, Ella. You need to start thinking about yourself for a change.”

He raised a hand and gently lifted a section of fringe that had worked loose from her ponytail, pushing it behind her ear. He stroked a finger down her cheek his gaze drawn irresistibly to her mouth.

“Damn it,” he groaned as his pulse roared through his head, swelling to some kind of primal jungle beat. “I wish I didn’t want to kiss you so much.”

And then, tired of fighting it, he kissed her anyway.

Her lips were hot and she whimpered into his mouth as he flayed her with a passion that exploded full roar from his loins. She matched his ardour and he was instantly hard, instantly aflame. He deepened the kiss, pressing her closer. She opened to him, grinding her hips into his, squashing her breasts against his chest, snaking her arms around his neck, raking her fingers into his hair.

Ella broke off, dragging in much needed air. Her heart was pounding like massive sub-woofers at a rock concert. He filled her up too much. Made it hard to breathe. Hard to think. He reached for her again but she placed a stilling hand on his warm, muscled abdomen.

“No. Wait,” she panted, holding herself back from him as much as possible with their thighs pressed hard together and his aroma – beer and lemon and sex – drowning her good sense.

It actually made her dizzy. And ratcheted up the ache between her legs. But she was determined to finish business before she got to pleasure.

“I take it this is a yes. You’ll coach the team.”

It was gratifying to see him looking just as sucker punched as her. “Yes,” he muttered, dragging in huge lungfuls of air, as he reached for the hem of her peasant blouse and yanked it over her head in one swift movement.

“Paradise,” he whispered, staring at her pink bra for about two seconds before sliding his hands up to cup her breasts, kneading them, lowering his mouth to them.

Ella dragged herself back from melting into a puddle on the floor. “Stop,” she panted, pulling his head up.

He breathed hard in obvious frustration and Ella pressed her forehead against his chest, gathering some breath and, quite possibly, her sanity.

She hadn’t come here for this. The fact that it was happening gave her hope for the future but she needed to focus on the immediate situation. She lifted her head. “There’s still three-quarters of an hour left of training.”

He snorted. “Fuck training.” Then he reached for the twinkling diamante clasp in the depths of Ella’s cleavage, flicking it with an expert twist of his hand.

Ella looked down as her breasts sprang free. “Is there some place you go to study that?”

He grinned. “Sure. Got myself a PhD.”

He traced the ridge of her collar bone with his index finger then headed south over the swell of a breast to the tip of a rapidly hardening nipple. Ella felt it right between her legs.

“Jake,” she whispered, grasping his shoulder as the whole room tilted. She had to keep her head here. Had to keep things on track. Be the responsible one. “Training.”

“Tomorrow,” he dismissed as he bent his head and let his lips follow the path of his fingers.

Ella shut her eyes and arched her back. She could be sensible tomorrow too.