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‘Oh?’
He raked his hand through his hair, clearly trying to work out where to start. Her heart paused for a beat. The apprehensive gesture was so unlike the man she had come to know.
‘I’m sorry.’ He blew out a sharp breath. ‘I seem to be saying that word a lot recently. But I don’t know where to start.’
She had to be careful here. ‘How did the funeral go?’
Another pause.
‘It was harrowing,’ he confessed at last, then frowned. ‘Yet somehow...soothing.’
‘You got some closure,’ she observed.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Is that the quack term for it?’
Ah, that flash of macho pride she recognised from too many soldiers, the stigma that still, to some degree, shrouded talking about personal issues.
‘Don’t knock it,’ she warned patiently. ‘Or underestimate its significance.’
‘Fine. Then I guess I got closure.’ He bunched his shoulders. ‘And I am sorry. I was out of line when I told you to mind your own business in the hotel that night. You were right; I wasn’t mentally prepared for the funeral. I did need to say goodbye and I did need permission to feel those emotions. I’m grateful to you for saying all you did; it made me open my mind up subconsciously so it wasn’t such a shock when I got there.’
‘And your foster father?’
‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘You were right too. Wilf welcomed me straight away. Hugged me. Told me he was glad I was there.’
‘Good,’ she offered softly, relieved she had judged it right.
Nonetheless, it was clear from Ash’s changing expression that there was more to it than he was saying. She could practically hear the cogs clicking over in his head, and as he brooded she could feel something building. At first, she couldn’t put a name to it. She just needed to give him space to find the right words for whatever it was he wanted to tell her.
‘I felt I’d let him down. And Rosie.’
He raked his hand through his hair, short as it was. The helplessness of the gesture tugged at her.
‘You’re not the kind of person to let people down,’ she protested. ‘I spoke to your men. Remember?’
His jaw locked, the tiny pulse flickering. Finally, she could pinpoint the source of the tension building inside him. Guilt and anger.
‘It’s not the same,’ he growled.
‘Why not?’ she ventured.
He crossed his arms defensively over his chest, subconsciously pushing her away. She could tell he wished the conversation was over but he felt obliged to answer. She was putting herself in his sights. She didn’t know why she was even doing it. She didn’t have to. They weren’t even a couple.
He turned his back, busying himself with emptying the now cold cafetière and boiling the kettle for a fresh one. She knew he was buying time. Silently she watched, waiting for him to continue.
All at once, a realisation detonated in her brain.
You’re going to get hurt because you’ve let yourself care about him, you stupid girl.
Before she had a chance to regroup, Ash started speaking and inexorably she was drawn back in.
‘I told you how Wilf and Rosie turned my life around? Pretty much saved me?’
‘You told me they did, yes. Though not how.’
‘Well, when I got busted for stealing the car, no one else was prepared to take me on. Except for them. They were tough, but fair. They told me that they were my last chance saloon. That they could see I had the potential for more but they weren’t prepared t
o take chance after chance on me. That this was my opportunity to lose.’
