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I’m so troubled by his friend that I don’t pay any attention to his touch. “He scares me.”
“I’m sorry. He . . . there’s no excuse, other than he’s going through some seriously awful shit right now, and he can be a bit up and down.”
There’s another tug on my hand, Max looking up at me imploringly. “Please.” His eyes skim over my body. “You hate the cold.”
I take a seat away from him, unable to dislodge the look in Ben’s eyes that continues to haunt me even though he’s nowhere to be seen. I’m grateful for the warmth of the water again, however, that small, simple pleasure is quickly replaced by a searing pain, my head buzzing louder and louder until I think my brain will explode out of the top just like the emoji. Groaning, I put my hands over my temples and close my eyes.
A wall of black fractures, little flashes and glimpses of something there and gone again. Straining, chasing the image that wants to reveal itself, I stay as still as possible, hoping it will enlarge or unfold. But making sense of anything is impossible.
“Are you in pain?”
“My head’s torturing me.”
I feel a gentle hand on my back. “Can I get you anything?”
Answers. Answers he can give me. I meet his eyes, dismissing the pain. “Who’s Ben?”
A long pause is followed by a hard swallow. “I’ve known him for about four years. He’s married to my sister.”
Oh. That surprises me. I have nothing to say to that, nothing to interrogate that wouldn’t be a deeply personal question. All the same, I do wonder if theseriously awful shitBen’s going through is due to his marriage.
“I can absolutely vouch for him. I’m so sorry he upset you. I think that was his way of trying to be helpful.”
I frown, unconvinced, feeling lost and like parts of me are also being found. Or are trying to be found at least. “There’s something really terrifying about his eyes. They seem so ravaged and . . . and empty. But in the lake he made me laugh, and I thought he’s not so bad, so I can’t quite compute. I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“You can.” Max’s easy mood feels muted and anxious. Revealing I don’t particularly like his brother-in-law must be difficult to hear. “It must be hard to trust men after . . . everything.”
“But with you,” I begin, “I feel like I can trust you.”
“Really?” His face softens, his cheeks pink from the heat of the tub. And his damp hair is a distracting array of tousled lengths. “Can I ask why?”
Embarrassed, I contemplate if I should answer, but I have a good instinct about this man. “Maybe it’s because I’ve seen you before this weekend, and we have that small connection already. And you have a dog that looks well-treated and loved. You’ve got to be nice, right?” I tease. “Aren’t owners meant to be like their dogs?” Max chuckles at my comparison, raising a brow that makes him look seriously sexy. Perhaps he’s nothing like his dog at all. “But it’s your eyes. They tell me a completely different picture to Ben’s.” I look into those richly-coloured, amber eyes. “They make me feel warm and safe.”
He scoots closer, catching up my hand again. The movement dislodges me from the seat, making our knees and legs bump and cling underneath the water. “That’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever told me.”
I scoff lightly. “I’m sure you’ve had many better compliments.” He’s insanely handsome, compassionate and articulate, kind . . .
“No. Never,” he says, his brow crinkling as if he’s trying to remember any other compliments. “Truly.” He licks his lips, scanning my face. “I really like you, Ava. When we return to Cambridge I’d like to take you out to dinner, or stroll around town hand in hand as we window shop, whatever you’re comfortable with.” He gathers up my other hand, smiling that easy, heart-stopping smile as he maps my fingers with his own. “Is that something you can do?”
His choice of words is revealing; he understands I want to, but neither of us knows if Ican.At some stage, we need to talk about The Incident, but even without knowing the details, Tabi has made sure everyone knows the very worst of it. No further details are needed, but if I do start a relationship with someone new, I will owe them that. I will owe it to myself. Remembering becomes more and more vitally important.
“I hope so. I’d like to.”
His eyes fall to my mouth and my heart kicks out in want. A large palm slides possessively along the top of my thigh, my blood threatening to boil over. His eyes assess me, wanting to know if his touch is welcome, though he doesn’t voice it.
I want this so badly, I realise. I want to be cherished and loved and petted. I want to be restored. But it didn’t work with Jonas. Why would it work with Max?
“Do we need to take this slow?”
I lift my shoulders, unsure. The thought of kissing him has me excited, not daunted or anxious. “Not all of it.”
There’s a brief, quick lift of his lips, but it morphs into an expression that’s more subdued and contemplative. “I want to do this right.”
The more Max shows heavy consideration for my predicament, the more I’m reminded of Jonas’s near-constant polite queries.Is this okay? Can I touch your pussy? I don’t want to hurt you, Ava.
“Everything you’re doing feels right,” I admit.
“And kissing you?”
