Inside, it’s all steamed up. She shivers, partly from the cold, her wet clothes clinging to her. Partly from something else entirely.
He flicks an eyebrow as he looks at her. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘Anywhere!’ She can feel excitement bubbling over. It’s got to be right. This has got to be the choice she was supposed to make. ‘Let’s go to Spain.’
He gives her a sceptical look. ‘You don’t have any clothes.’ He starts the engine, pulls out. Away from Bath, and towards the motorway.
She makes apffsound. ‘I’ll buy some. Or Brazil,’ she says, gripping his hand on the gearstick. ‘I’ll come with you.’ She can do the camp another time, can’t she? She can figure out the rest of her life later.
His lip quirks. God, she fucking loves this man. ‘How about we go to the beach?’
‘Sure,’ she agrees with a nod. She lets go of his hand, pushes her fingers through her hair. ‘Let’s just gosomewhere.’ Because she needs to do something, she needs to celebrate this. ‘Let’s go and have sex on the beach.’
He snorts. ‘You know, I tried that once. Not all it’s cracked up to be.’ But his gaze slides to hers, and something inside her fizzes. He takes her hand where it rests on her lap, links his fingers with hers.
‘You know I love you, right?’ he murmurs.
She looks at him, fingers gripping tight. ‘I havealwaysloved you.’ She feels it, right down to her soul. And she knows in that moment that the past doesn’t matter, because he is the person she’s supposed to be with. He is everything. Her past and her future.
She looks back down to their joined hands, smiling.
It’s only when she looks up that she sees.
Headlights coming towards them through the dark cloud, the rain.
It doesn’t register at first, like things are moving in slow motion. A second to realise what’s happened. To see the lorry skidding on the wet road, across the single carriageway and over to their side.
It’s going to hit them. It’s obvious, in that moment. It’s going to hit them, and there’s nothing Ash can do about it. He has already snatched his hand from her grip. He is already turning the steering wheel. He glances at her, his eyes dark and terrified. Not for himself. But forher.
And she sees what he’s going to do. He’s already doing it, already turning so that he’s the one who will take the impact. So that the lorry, sounding its horn now, like that could possibly help, will hit him first.
She sees one more thing in that instant between life and death. She sees it from the way he shakes his head, like he’s shaking away a memory. From the way his eyes flash – wide, bright.
He remembers. He remembers what they were to each other. He remembers that this has happened before – his death, over and over, because of her. A loop destined to repeat.
Her ears are ringing, pulse spiking. It’s happening again. And she sees it now, the other times it’s happened, almost exactly like this. Drowning, a gunshot, a car. Different deaths, but the same moment, just before. A moment where she has to choose him – or choose something else. Like the art school she didn’t go to because of him. Not because he asked her not to go, but because she couldn’t stand to lose him. Maybe because of what happened with Chloe, because she can’t bear to lose another person. It’s connected, like Saskia said.
She chooses him instead of following her own path. He doesn’t have these flashbacks, because it’s not him making the wrong choice – it’s her.
And now it’s all happening again. This realisation happens in the time it takes to take a breath. Like she is briefly suspended, looking down at the scene.
She can’t change the past. She never could. And it’s not punishment – it’s like Darcy said. The universe is offering her a chance, each time, to get it right. To try and forgive herself for what happened to her sister and move on. To choose herself, in this moment, and not him.
She nearly did it this time. So in the second before the lorry hits, she takes Ash’s hand, grabs the steering wheel to steady it. There will be another chance, she’s sure of it. This will not be the end.
She smiles at him, bright and sure, as he turns to her in horror.
‘I love you,’ she says. Right before the moment of impact.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty years later
Theo moves up the escalator and through the crowds at Paddington station, listening to his dad’s voice coming through his AirPods, telling him about a party he’s arranging for when Theo gets home to Dublin.
‘Well, more of a get-together really,’ his dad is saying. ‘But everyone has said they’ll be here. Which is good, given I wouldn’t be able to gothere, so to speak.’ A subtle dig at himself, Theo knows. It’s the main reason he’s moving back to Ireland. He hasn’t been in the same place much since his mum died when he was a teenager. But he’s watched as his dad has become more and more introverted, and maybe it’s time to try and help with that before it’s too late. And maybe it’ll be nice to be in one place for a while. He never thought he’d say that – and maybe it’s the old cliché about approaching thirty and wondering what direction you want the next thirty years of your life to take, but he feels like something is telling him to stay put. After all, you can be a music producer from anywhere, can’t you?
‘I’ll be there, Dad,’ he says firmly.
