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‘Oh fuck yeah,’ she grins, pulling me toward her once more.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell.

My eyes rake over Bryn, who is calm and quiet beside me. If only she knew the things I knew and what I’d done. Would she ever forgive me? I force myself to look away before my thoughts spiral. I slide out of bed slowly, careful not to jostle her, and pull on a shirt I find draped over a chair. The room feels colder the second I’m not touching her.

The light flooding the kitchen is too bright. I wince and shove the curtain closed, preferring the darkness. I move around the kitchen. Coffee first. My hands know what to do even if my head doesn’t. Leaning against the counter, I chew the side of my thumb. Guilt has a weight to it. It sits heavy in my chest; it presses down on my lungs. I think about all the moments I didn’t make the right choice. All the things I justified because I thought I had to, because I thought I was protecting someone, because I thought I was already past saving.

The kettle clicks off abruptly.

‘She deserves better,’ I mutter to the empty room. ‘She deserves more than me.’

With a heavy exhale, I pour the water into the coffee plunger. I crack eggs into the pan, scramble them slowly, and add bread to the side. The smell of coffee fills the space and my stomach grumbles. I certainly have worked up an appetite this morning. I’m plating everything when I hear soft footsteps behind me.

‘Smells good,’ Bryn says, her voice still sleepy.

We had a fuck session this morning. On the bed, all over the floor, the bathroom, back to the bed. We both passed out again and now half the day has passed.

I turn. She’s standing there in the doorway, wrapped in one of my hoodies, her hair tied in a loose knot on the top of her head. The sight of her hits me straight in the chest. God, I don’t deserve this. When she finds out, I don’t know if we will have any mornings like this again.

‘Thought you might be hungry,’ I say.

She pads closer, her arms slipping around my waist from behind. Her forehead presses into my back and I lean into it.

‘You didn’t have to do all this.’

‘I wanted to,’ I say. ‘I like doing things for you.’

She smiles, satisfied, and lets go of me to pour herself coffee. I watch her take the first sip, her eyes closing briefly. She smiles. ‘This is perfect.’

‘You’re perfect,’ I whisper.

She smiles up at me, looking relaxed and carefree. I look away, my jaw tightening, and busy myself at the counter. She doesn’t notice. I tell myself I’ll say something soon. I’ll tell her everything. Just not yet. Not this morning. Not while she’s standing in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, wearing my clothes, and letting me believe that this could be our reality.

For now, I let the moment just exist.

For now, I pretend I’m not already on borrowed time.

31

ASH

Five Years Ago

I barely register the sound of someone behind me before a hand grabs my jacket and yanks hard. I lose my footing, stumble, and the next thing I know I’m hitting the stairs, back first, breath knocked clean out of me as I slide down to the bottom, landing in a painful sprawl.

‘Get out of my house,’ Grant snarls down at me. He’s a short man and since I’m not, the only way he could ever loom over me like this is by shoving me to the ground.

I stay where I am for a second, flat on the harsh concrete, my lungs burning as I suck air back in. When I look up, he’s at the top of the stairs, still staring down at me in disgust.

‘You don’t get to be here,’ he says, coming down a step. ‘You don’t get anywhere near my family.’

I push myself upright, wincing, but forcing a crooked smile anyway.

‘Relax,’ I mutter. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘You were never welcome,’ he snaps. ‘And you’re done sneaking around like this. You hear me? You stay away from Bryn. From both of them.’

My jaw tightens at her name. ‘That’s not really your call.’