‘Henry, you don't bring someone home because they need somewhere to go. You bring someone home because you want them to accept you and where you come from.'
She wasn’t wrong. I wanted Amanda to want me. To want all of this.
‘I’m sure about her,’ I said, the words out of my mouth before I could second-guess them. ‘Pretty sure. No. Completely sure, if I’m honest. I don’t know how to explain it, Mum. I’ve never known anyone like her. I feel like I’ve been waiting for her without knowing I was waiting.’
Mum's face softened, full of love and pride.
‘Good,’ she said quietly. ‘Because she looks at you like she’s smitten too.’
I blinked. 'You think?
'I don't think, Henry,’ she said with a little smirk. ‘I know. I've been watching her just as much as you've been watching her. Every time you moved into a room, she relaxed. Every time you weren't looking, she watched you rapt until you were back by her side.’
‘She might be scared,’ Mum added softly. ‘I can see that too. But she likes you a lot. And she trusts you. That's rare, Henry. Don't take it lightly.'
I swallowed, feeling something fierce and protective rise in me.
‘I won’t. I’d never hurt her.’
‘I know you wouldn’t.’ Mum leaned over and touched my cheek with her slightly damp hand. ‘Just be patient with her. Not everyone is ready to go all in so soon.’
I nodded.
Outside, the snow began again in slow, lazy flakes.
Upstairs, I could hear the soft shuffle of someone moving around the office, coming from the box room. Amanda waking up, maybe trying to figure out how to face the day in a house full of people when she’s not slightly sozzled.
And suddenly, I was unshakeably sure about wanting more with her in a way I hadn’t been the day before.
twenty-five
AMANDA
I woke earlierthan I meant to, cocooned somewhere between the scratchy warmth of the ancient tartan blanket and the sad, deflating sigh of the blow-up bed beneath me. The office was more of a catch-all storage room with a desk shoved against one wall, still lying blanketed in grey with the early morning light. Papers rustled faintly where we'd stacked them out of the way, a tangle of extension cords coiling to my left, and the faint hum of the old radiator made the space feel like it was alive.
The house beyond the door was quiet, full of sleeping bodies and muffled sounds. Floorboards creaked, a distant kids' cartoon talked in squeaky, muffled voices. A dog gave a sleepy huff somewhere beyond my door. I lay there for a few minutes fighting the urge to pee, and find Henry. My breath fogged above me, warning me to stay tucked up and cosy.
But my throat was dry, and my bladder cried out for relief. The blow-up mattress gave a resigned wheeze as I fought to stand. The bed shifted every time I moved. I found one ofHenry’s sweaters and pulled it on over my pyjamas, shivering from the chill.
I padded down the corridor, socked feet cold against the wooden floorboards, careful not to disturb the little pockets of sleeping people scattered throughout the house. Every room was bursting to overflowing with family members, and the air still felt thick with the warmth of yesterday’s fun. I wasn’t used to this kind of familial closeness, so many people under one roof.
Halfway down the stairs, I slowed. Henry’s voice drifted up from the kitchen. A murmur meant for someone other than me.
I should have kept walking to the bathroom or made some noise so they knew I was there. Anything other than listen in. I paused, one hand on the bannister, my breath held just a little too tightly.
And that's when I heard my name.
'…Amanda.'
A wash of heat prickled across my chest.
His mum made a soft, amused noise before speaking more words I couldn't quite make out, and then Henry replied, his voice low and unguarded in a way that made my pulse trip.
'She's everything.'
My hand tightened on the bannister, breath catching in the middle of my throat.
But then he continued talking. Lots I couldn’t make out, and then one sentence I could.
