I’ve taken shoulders to the torso at full sprint – my spine compressing and springing back – trusting the whistle to end the contact. There’s consent in that sort of violence. Limits. Penalty kicks awarded when someone crosses the line. With Ava, Nevin doesn’t play by the rules. There’s no Television Match Official reviewing the footage, no sin bin for the hold that leaves fingerprints. Only silence and closed doors.
This is erosion. A man dismantling a woman piece by piece.
My teeth are set so tight the tension radiates up through my temples. I need to leave. If I stay, I’ll smash his head on a table, and that will only make everything worse.
So I don’t say goodbye to anyone. I just walk, pushing through the wooden door into the February night. I suck cold air into my lungs, trying to cool the furnace in my chest. I turn left, away from the main road. Take the back streets toward our flat. Duncraig is quiet at this hour.
Good. I’ve had enough of people.
I walk until the noise fades a bit, and my pulse slows enough that I trust myself not to turn around. But my mind keeps racing with the question I asked and the answer she almost gave. The look in her eyes before Nevin appeared.
She was going to say something.
The not-knowing grinds at me. I have a searing, bone-deep hatred for the man who stole that moment. For every piece of her he’s ground down.
I roam the streets of Duncraig until my legs burn. An hour? Two?
She’s not yours. She’s not yours. She’s not?—
My phone pings in my pocket. Then I see the preview. One word and my guts drop right into my shoes.
Marzipan:
Help
Chapter 12
Ava
The lock of the front door clicks behind us, and my back goes straight as a blade.
Nevin’s hand is still wrapped around my elbow from the walk up the stairs. His hold tightens for one second, then releases. I step further into the flat and map the room to keep myself from blacking out. Lamp by the sofa. Kitchen door ajar. Hallway to the bedroom. Bathroom at the end.
‘Enjoy yourself tonight?’ His voice is conversational. The tone he uses for strangers and sponsors and people he wants something from.
The aftertaste of the evening’s whisky hangs between us.
I slip my coat off and drape it over the back of a chair. ‘It was good to see everyone.’
‘Yeah.’ He crosses to the kitchen and pours himself another whisky. As if he hadn’t had enough already. The amber liquid catches the lamp light.
‘Always sweet to put one over the English. Massive shift from the boys. Next year, I’ll be in that squad.’
I start edging for the bedroom because distance is safety and walls are barriers and maybe if I can get changed and brush my teeth and slide under the covers before?—
‘Ava.’
I stop.
‘Come here.’
My feet carry me back to the living room. Compliance coded into my body from months of learning what could happen when I don’t.
Nevin leans against the worktop and stares me down. His mouth is a flat, hard line.
‘You had a good time tonight.’ It’s not a question. ‘Things seemed cosy at the bar.’
‘I was getting water.’
