“Freya,” he says quietly.
I don’t look at him. Because if I do, I might crack. “What?” I ask, my voice tight.
“What’s going on?”
I swallow. The words sit there. Right on the tip of my tongue. I could say it. I could just turn around and say:I saw you.But I don’t. Because Theo and Isla are just ahead, laughing. This is not the moment. So instead, I pull my wrist gently from his hand.
“Not here,” I say quietly.
His expression shifts to confusion and concern.
“We’ll talk later.”
And then I walk ahead, leaving him standing there for a second before he follows.
The rest of the walk is quiet and all I can think is that I don’t know what’s worse; What I saw or the fact I’m too scared to ask him if it’s true.
CHAPTER FIFTY-nine
RORY
I don’t understand what just happened. One minute I’m standing in the playground, finally seeing her properly after the weekend, already half smiling because I’ve missed her more than I thought I would. Already thinking about how I’m going to get her on her own later so I can give her the bracelet that I collected from the jewellers today after having it engraved. Thinking about the look on her face when she realises it’s for her…and the next she’s pulling away from me like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve crossed some line I don’t even know exists.
I walk towards my parents’ house with Isla chatting beside me about something that happened in PE, her voice bright and steady, completely normal, and I’m nodding along in all the right places, asking questions when I should, but my head is somewhere else entirely. The way Freya looked at me. Or didn’t. The way her voice sounded like she was holding something back.
“What’s wrong?” Isla asks suddenly.
I glance at her. “Nothing.”
“You’re doing your thinking face.”
“My thinking face?”
“Yeah. Your eyebrows go all weird.”
She demonstrates, scrunching her face up in a way that’s not even close and somehow still exactly right.
I shake my head. “I’m fine, bug.”
She studies me for a second longer than I’d like. “You’re not fine.”
I soften. “I promise I am.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, turning back to whatever story she was halfway through. Kids. Too damn observant.
“Go on,” I say, leaning over to unlatch the gate. “In you go.”
She pauses, looking at me again. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
She tiptoes and wraps her arms around my waist quickly. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She hops down the path and runs inside, and I stand there for a second longer than I need to, hands still on the gate, staring ahead. Because I’m not fine. Not even close.
By the time I get to training, my head is still stuck back on that walk home. Every word. Every pause. Trying to work out where it shifted. Where I went wrong. Because something definitely changed and I have no idea what.
