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‘That’s one word for it,’ I reply.

I glance at her, at the way the streetlight catches the profile of her face. Bracing myself, I push a hand through my hair, hesitant to start this conversation, even though I know we need to have it.

‘We need to talk about it,’ I say.

‘Ash—’ She bristles, her jaw hardening.

‘I know,’ I cut in gently. ‘You don’t want to discuss it, but you didn’t see what you think you saw.’

She exhales through her nose, a tired sound. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

‘It does to me.’

She stops walking, turning to face me, her arms crossed now, guard fully up. ‘What happened back then … I’ve made peace with it. I don’t want to go backwards.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ I say. ‘I’m asking you to hear me out.’

‘You were paying attention to her. Anyone could see that. You wanted her and had to settle for me.’

I stare at her, incredulous. ‘You surely still don’t think that. You know that is the furthest from the truth you could get.’

‘My eyes don’t lie.’

‘You did not see what you think you saw,’ I growl. ‘I only had anything to do with Isla because I was worried about her,’ I say, my words coming out quickly now. Bryn flinches at the mention of her sister’s name. ‘Not because I wanted her.’

She scoffs softly, looking away. ‘You don’t need to explain yourself. I get it, she’s beautiful. You said so yourself.’

‘I do need to explain myself,’ I insist, feeling a sense of urgency well up inside me. ‘Because what you thought was going on – it certainly wasn’t that.’

She shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t change how I felt.’

‘I know,’ I say quietly. ‘But if you let me explain, it might change your entire perspective on everything.’

Bryn glances at me, and there’s something raw in her eyes. Something unresolved that has been festering there for a long time. The hurt has never gone away.

‘I don’t want to relive it,’ she says. ‘I’ve forgiven you. Isn’t that enough?’

The word forgiven hits me like a slap in the face.

‘I don’t want forgiveness for something I didn’t do,’ I say.

Silence stretches between us, filled only by the sounds of night: insects, leaves rustling in the wind, the distant sound of traffic.

‘She wasn’t okay,’ I continue. ‘Your sister. I was just trying to help.’

‘That’s the thing with Isla. She draws you in and makes you feel like she’s the victim in every situation. She makes you feel sorry for her.’

‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘But this time she really was. I wasn’t interested in her, Bryn. I was scared for her, and I was concerned that you didn’t understand what was going on.’

Bryn shakes her head like she’s trying to rid all the thoughts from inside it. ‘The past is the past,’ she says firmly. ‘I don’t want it dragging us down again.’

I step closer, feeling a sudden urge to shake her, as if that might make her listen. ‘I’m not trying to drag us anywhere. I want you to know the true story.’

‘Ash …’

‘I never chose her over you,’ I say. ‘Not then. Not ever. I was just trying to help someone who really needed it.’

She exhales, long and slow, and for a moment it seems as if she might let me finish. Then she looks away again, toward the dark stretch of road ahead.