And fear coiled within her anew.
‘Damien—’ She pulled back, heart thrumming in her throat.
‘Forgive me,’ he said – his eyes wide, his voice ragged. ‘That was …’
A mistake. He did not say it – but she couldhearthe words in the way his voice caught in his throat, and she found she couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look anywhere but out – towards the roiling river, each wave a mirror for the sickening sloshing in her own stomach.
‘I’m sorry,’ he finished.
Ava’s hand curled around the railing, the iron cold beneath her gloves. For if she accepted his apology, she would be admitting that what’d passed between them – that brief, bewildering moment – had been a misstep. And yet if shedidn’taccept his apology, she would be admitting it’d meant something.
And she wasn’t sure she could bear that, either. Because then she would be opening the same door she’d tried so desperately to close after Jem, and she wasn’t sure … she wasn’t sure she could do that again.
‘I shouldn’t have …’ Damien began – and then he stopped himself, shaking his head. ‘You were upset, and I-I shouldn’t have – Ava … I didn’t think.’
‘I don’t believe either of us did,’ she said feebly, for she had no idea how to turn the maelstrom of thoughts in her mind into words. ‘But I do not wish to mar our progress – with your sessions, I mean. If this arrangement we have is going to work, perhaps we have to be – perhaps we have tokeepthis—’
She glanced up at him then and saw how his lips had pressed into a thin, steady line.
‘… within its bounds,’ she finished.
‘Within its bounds …’ he repeated, his tone odd. Detached. ‘Yes.’
‘I feel as though we’ve taken a step forwards each time,’ she said, the words coming faster now. ‘And I do not want us to unravel that. I do not want to—’
Unravel again.Like I did, with Jem.
For a moment, they were both silent – the only sound coming from the river, the low groans of tugboats pulling at their mooring, the rhythmic slap of waves against the docks.
‘You should go,’ she said, her voice low.
They were only three words – but she saw them land. Saw the brief flicker in his expression – hurt – masked quickly with something else. Something sharper.
‘Is that what you want, Ava?’
For a moment he didn’t move. He stayed there, beside her, for one breath, two.
‘It’s for the best,’ she said – not daring to look at him again. And so, she didn’t see the way his expression softened before he reached to press the umbrella into her hand.
‘I’m sorry, Ava,’ he said.
And then he turned and walked away.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Damien didn’t truly knowwherehe was heading until he arrived at the brightly painted shop, with its red windowpanes, and its yellow shutters.
Though there were a few people seated inside – an elderly couple at the window, and a young man in a fine hat near the door – it wasn’t busy, which Damien was glad for, for it meant he didn’t feel quite as guilty knocking his knuckles against the half-moon window at the back.
Mr Jane’s face appeared in the glass. ‘Stomach problems?’
‘Much, much worse than that.’
Mr Jane raised two bushy eyebrows. ‘I have just the thing,’ he said, and disappeared from sight.
Damien took the corner seat, slinging his coat over one of the painted wooden chairs. His heart pounded. His lips burned.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have been coming up with an escape plan. A way to extract himself. He should have been thinking aboutthat– and yet instead he found his mind skittering back to the docks. To the soft press of Ava’s lips against his.
