Prologue
He turns away from her. He can’t do it any more, can’t stand here watching her throw this all away. It’s over now. Done.
He waits for the relief to hit as the rain grows heavier, sliding down his neck and under his jacket. Maybe even for the excitement – because this means a new start, a new location. Neither comes. Instead, all he feels is flat.
Maybe it was a mistake to come and say goodbye.
‘Wait.’
Her voice stops him as though his body is physically connected to her. He turns, slowly. Watches her as she takes a step towards him, those hazel eyes level on his in a way they weren’t moments before, her blonde hair damp and scraggly with the rain.
He can’t help it. He mimics her, moving towards her so they are standing opposite each other in the middle of the road.
She tilts her face up to him, rain pouring in sheets around them. ‘I love you,’ she says. And his heartbeat stutters.
It’s the first time she’s said it. The first time, he knows, that she’s been brave enough to. He stares at her, waiting to see the doubt that sometimes flickers in her eyes. But this time, there is none of that.
He finds his mouth tugging up into a smile. ‘Yeah?’
She nods. ‘Yes.’ Her voice is steady. Certain. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’
His smile grows. ‘Better late than never.’ Andthereit is, the relief. Not at leaving her for good, but at knowing for sure that she feels the same. But still he doesn’t reach for her. Because even if she loves him, it doesn’t necessarily mean shewantshim.
‘I don’t want you to leave me,’ she murmurs, answering that question. That’s the permission he needs to reach for her waist, feeling the heat of her skin under her damp jumper. And then he’s kissing her, and he hears her breath catch as he takes her mouth in his, feels her arms come around his neck, pulling him closer. God, he’s never been able to get enough of this. Of her.
A car horn sounds somewhere nearby, making him remember that they are still, in fact, in the middle of the road.
They are both laughing as they pull away from one another, as he tugs her to where his car is parked. He lifts her, propping her on the bonnet. He can taste her smile as he kisses her again, the rain beating harder on both of their heads.
‘I hate to say it,’ he says against her mouth, ‘but I reckon we need to make a break for it.’ A car passes, proving the point by splashing through a newly formed puddle. He cocks his head, his hands resting on her thighs. ‘Your place?’
‘No,’ she says, jumping down from the bonnet. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’ He considers her, then concedes with a nod, fishing out keys and unlocking the car.
Inside, it’s all steamed up. And it is tempting, right then, to reach for her again. But he knows that if he does, he won’t be able to stop. So instead he starts the engine.
‘Where shall we go?’ he asks.
She laughs, and it’s sojoyfulhe feels it like a bolt through his core. ‘Anywhere!’
He takes her hand as he drives, thumb travelling a small circle over her perfect skin. ‘You know I love you, right?’
She links her fingers with his, gripping tight. ‘I have always loved you.’ Her voice is so beautifully certain. And he knows what she means, because he can’t imagine ever not loving her either. Jesus, he really fucking loves this woman. He wonders if this is what everyone experiences when they find the person they’re meant to be with. This certainty, the sense of rightness whenever they are near. The sense that their souls were made for one another. Because for him, meeting her made everything slot into place, like there were pieces of him missing he hadn’t even known existed.
He glances down at her, sees her looking at their joined hands, a perfect smile on her heart-shaped face.
It’s just a fleeting glance, but it’s enough that he misses something on the road. So it’s only when he looks back out of the windscreen, peering through the rain, that he sees the headlights. Coming towards them through the grey.
Too big, too fast. A lorry, he realises, almost absentmindedly. A lorry is skidding over to their side of the road, coming right at them.
It’s going to hit them. It’s obvious in that moment. It’s going to hit them, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He has already snatched his hand from her grip. He is already turning the steering wheel, trying to control the car. But they’re going too fast, and the road is too wet.
His name comes as a panicked plea as she reaches out to grab the wheel, like that might help. Her eyes turn to his, wide, pupils dark. And in the moment their gazes meet, he sees that she knows it too. That she was right. That this deep sense of dread, of déjà vu that is flooding through them, isn’t misplaced.
He’s going to die, he knows that.
But it’s not this that sends a shock wave running through him. It’s the realisation that this is not the first time it has happened. It’s not the first time he’s met her, not the first time they have fallen in love.
It is not the first time he has died.
