Chapter Thirty
His hands felt cold as he reached for mine in the chilly morning. He’d already loaded my bags into the boot of the car and had scraped away the thick rime of ice that had formed overnight on every window. The engine was ticking over, and the car looked warm and inviting, but it was still the last place on earth I wanted to go.
‘Shit. This is hard,’ Josh said, his eyes watering in the icy wind. Or maybe the weather had nothing to do with it. I was already several steps ahead of him. There was a lump in my throat as large as a piece of coal, and tears were spiking the ends of my lashes.
I nodded. Because I had no words left. I’d used them all up the night before. We both had.
‘You know how to get back to the motorway?’
‘I’ve got the route on my phone.’
He inclined his head. There were dark circles beneath his eyes that matched the ones I’d seen in his bathroom mirror. We were like a pair of pandas, about to get separated when one of them was shipped off to a zoo. I almost smiled at that one. Almost.
The cold had eventually driven us down from the treehouse and back to his cabin. I could scarcely remember the walk through the forest. I knew it had taken longer than the journey there, not because we’d taken a detour, but because it was impossible to go more than twenty feet without the sudden need for one last hug, one last kiss, one last goodbye.
‘Maybe . . . maybe there could be a way . . .’ I’d broached hesitantly when the lights I’d left on in his cabin finally came into view.
Josh’s arms had tightened around me as he pulled me against him once again.
‘Don’t, Lily. Don’t pin your hopes on me, or us. You’ve been hurt too much already. Don’t let me be the one who’ll do it again.’
It was too dark for him to see the tears coursing down my face.
‘Perhaps you won’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt you. Maybe there’s a way of fixing this that we just haven’t figured out yet.’
The moon came out from behind a cloud. I really wished it hadn’t because I would rather not have seen the pain on his face.
‘You shouldn’t change your dreams because they’re different from mine.’
I rested my head against him, wondering how in all the years I’d known him I’d never once realised how perfect a fit we were. The hollow of his neck cushioned my forehead. I felt the brush of his lips grazing my brow.
‘Somewhere out there, there’s a perfect guy for you. And he’s going to be strong and healthy, and he’s going to want to give you all the things that Adam and I couldn’t. There’ll be a houseful of children, and then grandchildren, and fifty years from now, when you’re sitting there holding his old, wrinkled hand, you’ll realise that walking away from me now was the best thing you ever did.’
I sniffed inelegantly. ‘It doesn’t feel like it right now.’
He nodded slowly, and I knew this was hurting him too.
‘I know, Lily. I know.’
We hadn’t made love again. Somehow that seemed to belong only to the privacy of the treehouse. But I had spent what was left of the night in Josh’s arms, lying fully clothed on his bed, beneath a patchwork quilt.
I didn’t want to sleep, because if this was the only night we’d ever be like this, it was a crime to squander it. So we spoke for hours, his arms locked around me, my head on his shoulder, and sometimes I could hear the crack in his voice as we talked about the past we’d wasted and the future we’d never have. His chest hitched a few times and his arms tightened around me, and I knew that whatever it was I was feeling tonight . . . Josh felt it too.
Just before dawn we both dozed off, and when I finally woke, he was walking towards the bed with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.
His hair was damp from the shower and he was fully clothed. I felt a pang, knowing in that moment that I’d never again see him naked.
‘Do you think it’s possible to go back to being just friends again . . . after this?’ I’d asked him in the middle of the night.
He’d taken so long replying I was afraid his answer was going to be no .
‘Anything’s possible,’ Josh had said softly, and God help me his words had ignited a candle of hope in my heart that I knew nothing would extinguish. I could say goodbye the next day, if that’s what we had to do, but I had to know there was still a place where he and I could be friends. My heart wasn’t strong enough to recover from another big loss, not so soon after Adam.
‘You know where to find me . . . if you need to . . . want to?’ It took a huge effort not to add if you change your mind . We’d agreed the night before that this was best left as a single, perfect moment in time, but here I was, not yet off his property, and I was already trying to renege on the deal.
‘I do,’ Josh said, opening his arms. I went into them, knowing this might be the last time I would ever be there.
‘If you ever need me, Lily. If you’re ever in trouble. If something’s wrong . . . then I’ll be there in a heartbeat.’
‘Me too.’ It sounded like my words had been dragged over gravel. I cleared my throat before trusting my voice again.
‘Well, I suppose I should be going. I’ve got a lot of miles to cover.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want me to follow you to the motorway?’
‘No. I’m good,’ I said, although I wasn’t, and neither was he. ‘Come here, Fletcher. Say goodbye.’
Adam’s dog obediently padded over from where he’d been examining every bush he’d marked with his scent. Josh crouched low and ruffled his ears. ‘Keep her out of trouble, my friend. Don’t let her get lonely or sad.’ Josh looked up from his position on the ground and his eyes met mine, as he gave my dog one last instruction. ‘And remember to be nice to the next guy, okay?’
It was too much. It was too close a memory to Adam’s final farewell to his pet.
From somewhere I found the strength to take a step towards my car. But before I could climb inside, Josh reached for something propped up against the passenger door. He handed it to me with a crooked smile.
‘What? Why are you giving me this?’
He was holding out the crutch he’d made for me.
He looked boyish as he gave a shrug. ‘I don’t know, but I want you to have it. I know what you’re like. You’ll trip over something or fall out of a tree, and when you do . . . you’ll need this.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be climbing any more trees for the foreseeable future,’ I said softly, and as our eyes met I knew my words had transported us back to our lovemaking the night before. For a cold day I suddenly felt really hot. There was a slight flush to his own cheeks as Josh replied gruffly.
‘Well, you can’t be too careful. Take it, Lily.’
He held out the smoothly carved length of wood and passed it to me like a baton, which felt weirdly symbolic. I was going ahead now, without him. Racing towards a life in which he had no part, because it wasn’t a future he wanted.
I laid the stick on the back seat of the car and then strapped Fletcher into his harness.
Josh didn’t hold me again or kiss me one last time. I don’t think either of us would have been able to cope with that.
‘I will never forget these last five days, Lily,’ he said as he stood beside me by the open driver’s door.
‘Me neither,’ I said on a whisper.
‘We’re doing the right thing,’ he said, and I didn’t know which of us he was trying to convince with those words.
‘We are,’ I said, lying every bit as much as I believe he was.
He watched me drive away, as I’d known he would, and I kept glancing back in the rear-view mirror until the forest stole him from view.
‘Okay, Fletch. Let’s go home, shall we, boy?’