We have answers. We know why Lennox was murdered and how it was arranged by my father. We know why I was attacked and how Franklyn arranged it. We know how my father and Franklyn co-ordinated the explosions in the casino and at the hospital. The stories have unraveled like a ball of wool that a cat’s paw persistently knocks.
Blair will never be truly safe, just as I won’t just as Ben will spend his life trying to stand in the way of bullets to protect us.
“You make this place alive.” His words are simple. “This room feels different that when we were in here months ago.”
And it is months now. Time has gone.
She steps towards us, smiling. She looks older now. Any youthfulness has been eradicated with the events of the last year, but it suits her. She looks a queen.
When she reaches us we form a group, burying ourselves in each other as if we’ve been apart for the last week rather than hour, but something else has passed. Lifted.
Ben’s phone rings and he steps away. I hear Micky’s name and figure something else has come to light, just as it has every day since.
Blair softens in my arms, her scent reminding me of spring and flowers and her.
“I love you.”
I hear her words. She hasn’t said them to me before.
“Say that again.” I need to hear them, my heart hammering against my ribs, playing some painful rhythm.
She takes a small step back and holds my face in her hands.
“I love you.”
I have no words to say back, they fail me. Instead I take her in my arms and hold her close to me, hope that she can feel the way my heart beats for her, for him.
“I’m sorry I haven’t said them before.”
“No.” I force out the syllable. “No. You have to be ready.”
“I had to understand how I could love you both. If it could be like this.” Her lips are close enough so that I can feel them move through my shirt.
“It can. It’s unusual. Unconventional.”
“But that doesn’t matter. It’s ours.”
We’re still wrapped in each other when Ben returns, just without as many clothes. He watches as my mouth worships her skin, her breasts, her centre. I see him touch himself as I come inside her, making her call my name and then his and then we all find our finish.
Somehow it will remain like this.
We’ll go to war for it. Etch it on our skin.
We’ll live for it.
Ben
It’s late. Or maybe it’s early. Somewhere we lost the concept of time because it was no longer important and it might not be important again. Isaac fell asleep an hour ago, stretched out on the bed, exhausted and sated, the weight of a country temporarily lifted. He looks younger when he’s asleep, his hair curlier, ruffled across his brow. What I feel for him is different and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to explain it, even to myself.
Lovers.
Partners.
All of it and something else.
Blair stands at the window, looking out over a sea of mist that shrouds the loch. Her hair is lose and tangled, blonde curls dropping down her back, a white shawl loose over her shoulders. I watch her, not quite believing that we’re all here, alive and almost free.
“I can feel you staring at me.” Her words are quiet and low, not wanting to disturb Isaac.
