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‘I was just helping clean up her knee,’ Ryan says, moving to the sink and grabbing a washcloth.
I know I look like I’ve seen a ghost, and I know it hasn’t escaped Molly’s notice, though she appears more concerned than intrigued. You okay? she mouths, and I nod.
‘I’ll be out in a moment.’ I somehow walk out of the stall steadily, despite being a hot mess – trembling, struggling for breath.
‘Take your time,’ Molly replies coyly, and I dip to inspect my knee to avoid the increasing questions in her eyes. I stay there until I hear the door close behind her.
I feel the atmosphere thicken the second we’re alone again. ‘I’m so clumsy,’ I blather to fill the difficult silence. ‘I can sort it myself. I don’t want to keep you.’
Ryan’s kneeling in front of me a second later, dabbing around my wound with the cloth. ‘You’re not keeping me from anything.’ He sounds sharp now, almost pissed off, and the wretched quiet descends once more.
It’s uncomfortable, and I’m suddenly itching to remove myself from the awkward vibes bouncing around the small space. ‘I can do it—’
‘What did you mean when you said you’re not who I think you are?’ He looks up at me, and I stiffen from top to toe, immobilised by the raging wonder looking back at me. How could I have been so stupid? To give him a scrap of a clue like that and not expect him to press me? Or maybe I wanted him to press me in that moment, when my mind wasn’t my own. Maybe a desperation I didn’t know I had was unearthed by his tenderness. Maybe I wanted to spill all my secrets to him and let him wrap me up and tell me he’ll keep me safe. How stupid of me.
I need to avoid him in the future. Ignore the pull, because it’ll only get me in too deep. I must have lost my mind. I’ll be moving on from Hampton soon. I’m already getting attached to the quaint little town. Best not get attached to its residents as well.
I look away and skirt past him, leaving him kneeling behind me. I wash my hands, dry them, and make my escape, just catching him in the mirror as I turn. He’s slowly rising from his knees. Still watching me. I hate to think what he is thinking. I need to get away.
I tug the door open, but his hand appears over my shoulder, quickly slamming it shut again. I stare at the wood. ‘Let me go,’ I order, my voice shaking terribly.
Ryan removes his hold in an instant, and I rush out, hearing him curse as I go. Molly is looking for me when I round the corner into the bar, and I brace myself for the interrogation I’m about to be hit with. I don’t know what I’m going to say, so I lose myself in my wine, stalling. I shouldn’t have shared anything with her. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. Because now I’m seeing sense, and getting involved with a man is completely impossible. It would also be selfish. And irresponsible. And cruel. I look at Molly. My new friend. I shouldn’t get attached to her, either. My new, safe life away from London doesn’t seem so freeing in this moment. It suddenly feels very lonely. I can’t get attached to anyone. I can’t ever share my secrets and my woes with anyone. All I can do is pretend to be Hannah Bright.
‘Are you really just going to sit there and say nothing?’ Molly finally says.
My mind is a tangled mess, but before I can unravel my thoughts, something catches my attention out the corner of my eye, and I glance past her to see Ryan walking through the pub. He doesn’t look this way, and I don’t know why that bothers me. I peer down into my wine glass. The still, calm liquid is a stark contrast with the swirling, chaotic feelings inside me. ‘There’s something odd that pulls me toward him, and I can’t stop it.’ I peek out the corner of my eye and find Molly rapt. ‘But I kind of want to stop it.’ I must stop it.
‘Why?’
I’ve said too much. I can’t very well tell Molly that I don’t plan on staying in town forever. That this is just a temporary home for me until I have to leave. ‘I came here to get away.’ A lie. I came here to get closer to someone. My mum.
‘After your break-up?’ Molly lays her hand over mine.
I nod and drink to drown my guilt. ‘It’s too soon for me to move on from that. I have a lot more work to do on myself first.’ I smile, though I know it’s sad, and Molly mirrors it. That wasn’t a lie at all. ‘I can’t depend on someone else to fix me.’ The wobble in my voice isn’t avoidable, and I really hate not being able to talk about my history, albeit vaguely, without emotion controlling my words. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, yet I can’t help feeling resentful that I’m still held prisoner by my past. Because it’s just hit me hard that the mental scars will prevent me from ever being happy and relaxed in a relationship with a good man. I’m ruined. It’s ironic, really. I’m free, but far from it.
