Amelia knew that was the truth. She knew that the moment she came clean, Jo would flee, and that would be the end of not only the dark room, but of any kind of relationship with Jo. Platonic or something else, it didn’t matter. It would be gone. That much was clear from the question Jo had asked on Saturday evening.
“Do you ever wonder if things would have been different…were you not Callum’s mum?”
She pulled herself away from the window, moved into the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee. The house was too quiet. She’d turned the television on and off three times already this morning, unable to concentrate on anything longer than a minute. It wasn’t just a distraction—it was emotional overload. She had spent so long believing she could compartmentalise this…her, but Jo made everything bleed together.
Those two nights in the club had completely wrecked her resolve.
Because it hadn’t just felt easy. It had feltnatural.
Jo had looked at her—not as Callum’s mum and not as someone tied to her past—but asherself. And when Jo had smiled at her…God, when she’d reached for Amelia’s hand and asked her to stay, Amelia had nearly lost her grip on reality entirely.
She hadn’t intended to speak to her that night. She reallyhadmeant to slip in, explore the space beyond the dark room, and then leave. But then she’d seen Jo, sinking into the velvet couch with that dreamy, dazed look that onlyshehad put on her face, and Amelia had been drawn in like a moth to a flame.
It should have made Amelia feel guilty.
Instead, it made her ache.
She took a sip of bitter coffee, then set it down and paced the kitchen. Shehadto figure out what happened next. She would only drive herself insane if she didn’t.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She turned it over and caught Jo’s name lighting up the screen.
Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since Saturday.
Amelia stared down at the screen, unable to think up a response. She could lead with something entirely random, but she was worried that Jo would see through it.
So, she would try to get out of her head and respond in a way she usually would.
Hey. Sorry. I didn’t realise we were approaching mid-week. I’ve been busy. How are you?
She hit send, and three dots appeared almost immediately. Jo was texting her back.
I’m good. I was just thinking about the other night…
Amelia placed a hand to her chest and smiled.
I’ve been thinking about the other night, too. It was nice.
She lowered herself into a seat at the dining table, her mind racing with the potential response she could receive.
But then Jo’s message came through, and Amelia’s pulse started to race.
It was more than nice. I felt really close to you. Like…weirdly close. If that makes sense?
Amelia swallowed. More than nice? What was she supposed to do with that? Was this Jo’s way of hinting at something? God, she hated not being in control of situations like this.
It makes perfect sense. I felt the same.
She threw her phone onto the table the second she sent the message. What the hell was she doing?
For months, Amelia had been Jo’s safe place. She had been the one who offered support and silence, depending on what Jo needed and when she needed it. But now she had become the one who offered control, pleasure, and escape in a dark room without expectations.
If she had learned anything during the course of the weekend, Amelia had realised she wanted more. She didn’t want to only exist in Jo’s life in fragments, either as the person from her past or the woman she didn’t recognise in the dark. She wantedallof it. The conversations, the laughter, the quiet moments between touches. She wanted Jo in the light.
But telling her now…what if she felt betrayed?
What if everything they’d shared became tainted by deceit?
When she finds out why you use that dark room, she’ll run anyway.
