But she’d hardly changed. Her figure was fuller, and the wildness in her hair had been tamed into practical curls, pinned back for work; no nonsense, no fuss. Her eyes were still sharp, still scanning everything with that careful precision that had always unnerved me, but there was a hint of something dulled in the depths; the spark of a girl who believed the world would wait for her, replaced by someone who’d learned to move through it instead.
Her jaw was set differently now, softer around the edges, less likely to snap at anyone, more measured. She was still Sophie, but the girl I’d loved had been carved into someone else.
“How is that you?” she asked again.
But she wasn’t really asking me. She was asking herself. Still not quite able to understand. Sophie lifted her hand and then dropped it again like she’d changed her mind.
“Grew up,” I shrugged.
“Shit. I didn’t recognise you.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I asked her.
“For not knowing you were you.”
“How would you, Soph? It’s been…”
“Thirteen years.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. She answered too quickly. She knew how long ago we were. I wanted to smile. Desperately. But deep inside my chest, a pressure was building. Alien. Unwelcome. And it hinted at a loss of control.
“Where’s your car?”
“Just over there.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off me.
“Shall we get you home, then?”
“Uh, yeah.”
I tilted my head, and she turned. We moved silently for a few steps. No one speaking. Hardly breathing. The only soundthe lightness of her steps under soft-soled shoes and the heavier thud of mine.
The white car was parked almost the furthest point from the hospital entrance, and I was sure she’d chosen the darkest corner.
“Could you not have parked closer? Or under a light?”
“By the time I start work, I have to take what I can get. This was a good space. Sometimes, I have to park out on the street.”
I followed where she looked, out onto the main road. Away from the entrance, from people, from protection.
“Why are you shaking your head, Ryan?”
My name again. She used it like she always did. Gentle, low. I’d not heard it in years. Even in prison I was Reap. But now twice in a matter of minutes.
“Too far to walk by yourself late at night,” I grumbled into my beard.
“What else do you expect me to do? Fly?” That sudden sharpness in her voice. I remembered that, too.
I shook my head again. I had no right to tell her what to do or how to do it. None whatsoever. But the thought of her walking alone in the dark made my stomach knot.
“Where’s your car?”
“Bike,” I answered, my gaze returning to her. “I’ve got my bike.” I thumbed over my shoulder and watched as she searched for it.
“Can’t see it.”
