‘And was she with you? In the memory?’
Damien shook his head – and she saw how he pressed harder now. How the mark on his hand was becoming an angry red. ‘I was alone. But part of me has always wondered …’
She reached out, gently stilling his hand with her own. Running the pad of her thumb against the mark he’d made there. ‘What?’
He shook his head, his throat moving. ‘I don’t know. My memory of that day is so murky – and yet I still feel as though I only ever see flashes, and not the full picture.’
‘And that’s why you want to remember,’ Ava said softly. ‘That’s why you want to know.’
‘Why I stillneedto know.’ His breathing had changed – shallower, faster, as though he were standing on the edge of something, and knew he could fall. ‘I know we have to go back there. I know we have to try again – but …’
‘But … you’re afraid?’
He shook his head. ‘I just don’t want it to happen again,’ he said. And when she looked up at him, she saw his eyes weren’t green – but dark. Pained.
‘Don’t want what to happen, Damien?’
When he looked at her, she saw her own fear, mirrored in the tight line of his jaw, the thin press of his lips.
‘I don’t want to see in your eyes what I saw in my father’s. I don’t want you to change in front of me, like he did. I won’t …’ His voice faltered. ‘Ican’tdo that again.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ she said, and she hoped he could hear how much she meant it. How deeply she meant it. ‘I promise you.’
‘You can’t promise me that, Ava,’ he said, gaze darting away. ‘You don’t know.’
‘Idoknow.’ She moved her thumb across his, that gentle touch a small, fragile spark between them.
‘But when I’m with you,’ he said quietly, ‘when I’m with you it feels like … it feels like this is something I can choose. You. This. That’s why I—’
Kissed you. That was what he’d been about to say, she was sure of it, but then he looked at her, and drew his hand away.
‘I’m sorry, Ava.’
‘No,’ she said, hope hammering at her heart. ‘Don’t be sorry, Damien. I was just … I was afraid, too. Afraid that it would happen again – all that happened before.’
‘And are you still?’ he said, his eyes darker now, when he lifted them to hers. ‘Afraid?’
She felt the question like a pull in her stomach. But this wasn’t fear, it was something else – something that made her chest flutter, and her skin prickle.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘And no.’
‘Then I suppose that makes two of us,’ he said, his voice low. He leaned closer, a question in his eyes now – one that she answered by leaning a little, too – until there was nothing but a breath of air between them. ‘You know,’ he said quietly. ‘You have this uncanny ability to silence every sensible thought in my head.’
‘What are they saying?’ Ava asked. ‘Your sensible thoughts?’
‘Nothing good,’ said Damien, reaching to trace a fingertip along her jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
This time, when he kissed her, it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like hope, like a promise, and it made her breath hitch in her throat. His hand gripped her waist, and she let her own track upwards, towards the soft curl of dark hair at the nape of his neck, let herself pull him closer as their breath melded together, and a rash of goosebumps danced up her spine.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed, it looked as though it were the last thing in the world he wished to do.
‘Ava …’ he breathed, his words soft against her cheek.
She didn’t want him to speak. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted to feel the dizzy, untethered feeling she had felt when his lips parted hers, as though his touch was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.
‘I …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I should …’
Go, he would say. But she reached out, fingers curling around his wrist, feeling how his pulse jumped in time with hers.
