Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-One

Havermouth, Present Time

Cameron carried Aislen through the reception area where Heath was smoothly talking his way through her discharge.

Rhett paused to charm his way into a trolley. "I'll load up with Aislen's things, and meet you at the cars," he said to Cameron as he wheeled it back into the room.

“Oh, I’ll get a wheelchair!” A nurse protested seeing Cameron with Aislen in his arms.

“It’s fine,” Cameron told her with a shrug. “Aislen’s not heavy.”

“Are you leaving?” A woman stepped out of a room. Her clothing was rumpled, her eyes tired, and she clutched an empty coffee cup in one hand. “That is wonderful news. I’m Margaret,” she said to Aislen with a wide smile, her eyes filling with tears. “You must be Aislen Carter. You saved my son’s life. Stephan. My husband and I… We are just so grateful.”

“Oh,” Aislen flushed, embarrassed by the teary gratitude. “It was nothing, really. He was saving himself, and the gunman had moved on to the library, so it wasn’t like… I’m told he’s doing well?”

“Yes, we hope to be leaving ourselves today, we’re just waiting for the doctor to do his rounds. Stephan’s keen to go home where his PlayStation lives,” she laughed. “You look like you’re doing well?”

Rhett passed them with the cart ladened with flowers. “I could open a florist in the foyer,” he commented. “And sell all these to visitors.”

“Don’t you dare!” Aislen told him. “Yeah, I’m much better,” she answered the woman. “All patched up and looking forward to milking my injury and making these guys wait on me hand and foot.”

“Well, you deserve it!” Margaret told her. “This whole town owes you for what you did. I should let you go. It looks like Heath has finished…” She trailed off as Heath joined them. “I just wanted to say thank you again. So much.”

“Sorry about flashing your son,” Aislen replied.

Margaret laughed.

“I'm not used to people in Havermouth being friendly,” Aislen said to Heath as they continued out to the car. “Their normal response to me is to grab their pitch forks and torches. It makes my skin crawl when they're nice, as I’m waiting for the trap.” She squinted as Cameron stepped out of the hospital and crossed towards the car park. "Oh, wow, sunshine,” She could see both Cameron’s Ute and Rhett’s sports car parked, and Rhett loading the flowers and gifts into the back seats of both.

“Aislen! Aislen Carter!” Tabitha Marie called out as she charged across the car park towards them, her camera operator keeping pace and her microphone clutched in her hand. “This is Tabitha Marie,” she said hastily into the microphone. “Outside the Havermouth Hospital where Aislen Carter has just been released. Aislen! Did you know the shooter, Philip Jessen? You were at Havermouth High School at the same time five years ago. Did he tell you of his intention to shoot down students at the school? Is that why you ran towards him? Were you sleeping with him?”

“Oh, god,” Aislen muttered. "Now, that's a bit more normal for Havermouth," she added ruefully.

“Say nothing, Aislen,” Heath interceded himself physically between Aislen and Tabitha. “Ms. Carter has no comment at this time. You should be ashamed of yourself Tabitha. Aislen has just been released from the hospital after a severe injury and is on her way home to rest. Let her leave in peace.”

“Actually, no,” Aislen said. “I want to answer the bitch, Heath. Fuck you, Tabitha. No, I didn’t know him. He was just a fucked up boy who had been bullied beyond tolerance. What he did wasn’t right, but this was a tragedy, someone lost a son, and you’re trying to turn it into a sex scandal for social media hits. You need to go wash your nasty-arse mouth out with soap and go do your actual job. Research and look into real issues affecting this town rather than making them up. Now, fuck off and let me go home.”

“Fuck off, now,” Cameron repeated in a chirpy tone accompanied by a wide grin at the reporter and started to walk away.

“Aislen Carter!” Tabitha Marie called out. “Is it true that five years ago you were sectioned for mental evaluation and that you have spent most of the last five years in counselling after a miscarriage which left you unable to carry another child?”

Aislen felt the jolt pass through Cameron as the words registered and heard a crash from the car as a vase of flowers slipped free of Rhett’s grip and shattered on the ground.

“I don’t hit women,” Heath loomed over Tabitha, and Aislen saw in satisfaction a flicker of fear cross over the reporter’s face. “But you are testing my resolve. Get the fuck away from us, and stay away.”

Cameron continued to the Ute and set Aislen into the front passenger seat before closing the door. Aislen hurried to put her seatbelt on, cursing the reporter under her breath. She saw Rhett, his expression as dark as his hair, drive his trolley directly at Tabitha and the camera operator, making them dance out of the way, and then use it to herd them towards the hospital.

Cameron and Heath exchanged a word, before Cameron rounded the Ute and got into the driver’s seat. “They’ll follow us,” he said as he started the engine and reversed out of the parking space. A muscle worked in the corner of his jaw as he eased the Ute over the speed bumps and out to the road.

“Cam,” she said softly. She didn’t need to use her gift to know that he was mentally chewing over Tabitha’s spiteful disclosure.

“Is it true?” He asked quietly.

She swallowed hard. “Some of it is true.”

He nodded. “When were you going to say something about it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed and leaned back in the seat.

“It’s sort of something that affects us,” he wasn’t happy with her answer. “I mean… Whose baby was it? What happened? Are you sure that you can’t have children? That’s… that’s big, Aislen. Huge.”

“I don’t know whose child it was, Cameron, it was kind of hard to tell,” she tried to stay patient. “And I can have children. That part was bullshit. It will just be a high-risk pregnancy because I have a history of miscarriage.”

“Oh.”

She saw the tension leave him. “Would it make a difference? Would me not having kids make the Triquetra want me less?"

"No!" His exclamation was sharp. "No. It wouldn't change the fact that you're our mate. But... Kids is sort of why we're a Triquetra," he said awkwardly. "Or traditionally, that's why one forms - to better provide for the next generation..."

"I’m not really into kids,” she added hastily. “I’m not ready for that. Far from ready.”

“Yeah,” he flicked her a look. “I want kids, but not for a while. I’m sorry… About the baby, and about Tabitha being a bitch. It was one of ours?” He added after a pause, as if he’d tried not to ask, but curiosity had won. “The Triquetra’s?”

“Are you asking if I slept with other men during the last five years?” She replied tartly.

“No… Aislen…” He pulled up in the driveway of her house and turned off the car. “I’m asking if Heath, Rhett, or I lost a child.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I fucked someone else,” she told him, the words feeling hard and sharp on her tongue. “When the Triquetra were fucking around with Charlotte, I was upset and I bumped into someone, and we fucked in this horrible, dodgy motel on the outskirts of town. The baby was either his, or the Triquetra’s.”

His eyes widened and his jaw unhinged as he prepared to reply.

“He was the only other man that I’ve ever slept with,” she added before he managed to phrase his response. “Other than the Triquetra and Talen. And you can’t lecture me about it – the Triquetra weren’t virgins when I met you, and then there was that whole Charlotte thing.”

“Who was he? Guy Barnham? Is that why you helped him?”

“No, it wasn’t Guy,” she replied and reached for the doorhandle. “And it’s none of your business who. It was a mistake. Just like Charlotte was for you, except, I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone other than myself.”

“Wait, I’ll carry you inside,” he said as she opened the door, but she ignored him and rose to her feet, leaning back against the car as her head spun. She heard his car door close, and he ran around the Ute, to catch her against him, his body hard and lean against hers.

“Fuck, Aislen,” he complained. “You need to take it easy.”

She felt a kick of lust, feeling him against her, and looked up at him on an exhalation, sliding her palms up his chest. “I’m fucking horny,” she told him as he looked down at her, his pupils dilated. “Can we just not argue anymore and go inside and fuck instead?”