A grey shadow hangs over the sea in the distance, a bank of rain creeping towards us. Soon we’ll be engulfed by it and I don’t even care.
‘Are you doing anything with Michael to mark this anniversary?’ he asks.
I shake my head, tears sliding down my face. ‘No. He didn’t even want to talk about it last year. I don’t really speak to anyone about it either now, other than you.’
He rests his head against mine.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask him, sensing his reflectiveness.
‘I was just thinking about Tyler.’
I brush away my tears and take his hand, giving him my full attention.
‘Iwillbring him here and show him where Mum’s clothes were found,’ he decides. ‘I won’t tell him my theory or screw with his mind. But I can feel him drifting away from me and this might bring us closer.’
‘Have the boys been out to LA to see you?’
‘Not for a few years, but I thought I’d see if they want to come over for Christmas.’
‘Have they ever been there at Christmas before?’
‘No,’ he replies, squeezing my hand.
I give him what I hope is a supportive smile. ‘I think that would be so good for you all.’
Finn has resisted bringing his two worlds together, but maybe that’s exactly what he needs. He’s currently divided in two, one foot here, one foot in America. Maybe spending a Christmas with his brothers and grandparents in LA, along with the rest of his family, would help him to feel whole.
He searches my face. ‘Your eyes are the same colour as the sea today.’
‘I always thought Mum’s eyes were summer skies and mine were stormy seas.’
‘Come back to LA with me,’ he whispers.
A stillness comes over my body. ‘For a holiday?’
‘To live.’
I shake my head. ‘Finn, I can’t. You know I can’t.’
His expression hardens. ‘Why not?’
‘I can’t leave St Agnes. I can’t leave Michael. He needs me.’
He pulls his arm out from behind my body and hunches over, his elbows resting on his thighs, staring out to sea as the first of the rain begins to hit.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say. ‘This time with you has felt different.’
We’ve moved up to another level, which has made it both better and harder.
‘It’s going to be fucking unbearable when I go home,’ he says miserably. ‘I miss you when I’m gone. I think about you all the time. I hate leaving you.’
‘Thendon’tleave,’ I implore desperately, rain streakingdown my face and washing away my tears. ‘You’re needed here. Couldn’t we make it work?’
I know I’m being unfair, putting this pressure on him. He’s made his feelings clear. But I can’t help it.
‘Don’t ask me to stay, Liv.’ He sounds desolate.
‘Then don’t ask me to leave,’ I counter.
