I nod. ‘It was the most embarrassing thing ever. I was told to repent and do forty Hail Marys.’
He shakes his head. ‘Wow, just wow.’
‘I agreed to it. I didn’t want to lose him because of a drunken fumble.’
‘Did it help?’
‘Not really. But I was desperate to try anything. Apologising wasn’t working.’
‘I get it. I know how it feels to love someone and not want to lose them because of a stupid mistake.’
Is he talking about Joelle? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why they broke up, but I bite it back.
Dain rubs my arm. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person. You’re human, and you’re sorry. Deep down, Klint must know that.’
‘I hope he does.’
‘I assume this’—Dain gestures to us lying together in the sleeping bag—‘isn’t going to help your case, though?’
‘Hopefully, he’ll understand that it’s a necessary evil.’ Dain’s mouth quirks at that. ‘You know what I mean,’ I say hurriedly.
‘Speaking of evil, our backs are going to hurt like the devil tomorrow, thanks to this uneven ground. We should try to get some sleep if we can. You need your strength so we can hike back to Haworth.’
I agree, glad we’re not talking about me anymore, and twist away from him over onto my side. But as soon as I close my eyes, I can picture the black gaping moors beyond the walls of Top Withens, and I quickly swivel back.
‘All right?’
‘I’m not used to sleeping on an open moor. Anything could be walking around out there, like the ghosts of Cathy and Heathcliff.’
‘Would a rousing verse from Emily help?’
I nod, and he thinks for a minute, then murmurs in a low voice above the wind,
No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven’s glories shine
And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear.
I sigh. Of course Dain can quote Emily Brontë by heart, and it’s the right thing to say. ‘I love her.’
He smiles at me. ‘I do too.’
Chapter 14
I asked myself if I was wretched or terrified. I was neither.
(Charlotte Brontë,Villette)
As soon as it’s dawn, Dain wriggles out of the sleeping bag and prepares to leave while I lie there, dozily watching him pull on his hiking pants, like he’s a lover making a quick escape. Disappointment smarts—even though we bonded last night, now it seems he can’t wait to get away from me. But perhaps he’s being wise. If we linger in the warmth for too long, without hypothermia as our backup story, it’ll look dodgy.
The hike back is never-ending. We squelch down waterlogged tracks and across moorland fields, and I try not to fall over on my arse. Dain is a rock—encouraging me, feeding me snacks, and not minding if I want to take a break. I don’t know how I would’ve coped alone. He delivers me to the entrance of the hotel and says his goodbyes.
‘You’re not coming in?’ I ask, surprised. ‘Gareth will still be serving breakfast. You could grab something to eat and a hot coffee. On me, of course.’
‘No, best not.’
