Over and Over

Chapter Thirty-Two

It takes her a moment when she wakes to realise what day it is.

Because for the first time in as long as she can remember, she doesn’t start the day being dragged from a nightmare, doesn’t feel the water pulling her under in her sleep.

Maybe because she knows now that the nightmares were never about Chloe.

The sky is heavy with unshed rain as she heads up the hill to her mum’s house. An ominous sign, maybe, but she’s feeling weirdly positive. Like maybe this is the year it can be different. That they can celebrate Chloe – or at least finally take steps to put what happened behind them.

It’s only when she reaches her mum’s street, the trees along the verge showing the first signs of turning russet with autumn, that the nerves begin in her stomach.

She pushes the front door open tentatively, the way she always does.

‘Mum?’ But already she can smell it, a kind of sourness inside the house. Her stomach rolls.

And there she is, in the living room. Standing by a fire she’s lit, even though it’s warm outside, throwing photos into the flames. Lissa watches one curl in on itself, a smiling face turning black with soot.

She moves quickly across the room, grabs her mum’s hand before she can throw the next one in. ‘Mum, no,’ she says, holding tight when Esme tries to shake her off. She’s still in her nightgown. A nightgown that holds a whiff of that same sour smell.

‘You’ll regret this,’ Lissa continues, forcing the photos out of her mum’s grip. She doesn’t look at them. She doesn’t think she wants to know which parts of her life her mum is turning to ash.

Esme blinks at her. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I told you I’d be here.’ Lissa’s voice is gentle, though her insides are screaming at her. Telling her what an idiot she is to have expected anything different.

She leads her mum to the sofa, sits her down. Esme reaches for a glass of clear, strong-smelling liquid on the coffee table, and Lissa immediately takes it from her. Her mum says nothing, just stares up at her out of red-rimmed eyes.

Lissa feels her heart twist. She wishes she could walk away. Knows she never will. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast,’ she says, turning away and taking the glass with her.

But her mum reaches out to take her arm, her fingers clammy on Lissa’s skin. ‘It’s our fault, Alyssa,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse. ‘It will always be our fault.’

Some things, Lissa supposes, will never change.

The rain starts as she gets back to her road, light droplets spotting her face.

Because of it, she’s looking down, so she doesn’t see him until she’s nearly on top of him.

He’s heading towards her, away from her flat, his eyes also downcast, wearing a leather jacket that she thinks, bizarrely, will be damaged if the rain gets worse.

He looks up as they nearly collide, his gaze catching hers. And her heart stutters.

A corner of his mouth crooks up. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’ Her voice is barely a whisper.

His gaze briefly moves to a car over the other side of the road. She follows the direction and sees the suitcase, obvious in the back seat. And she knows.

‘You’re leaving?’ She didn’t mean it to come out so high-pitched. She knew this was coming, after all. She’s had time to prepare, had time to make a different choice. And she hasn’t. Still that doesn’t stop the leaden weight in her gut.

He nods. ‘I said I’d come and say goodbye.’ He smiles a little. ‘Fitting, I guess.’ She glances at him in question, and he shrugs. ‘It was exactly a year ago that we met, technically.’

A year, she thinks. And multiple lifetimes. She takes a careful step towards him, tilts her face up. The rain is getting heavier, dampening her hair.

‘Where will you go?’ she asks. ‘Brazil?’

A non-committal shrug. ‘Going to spend a few weeks in Spain with a friend. But then, yeah, I think so. I’ll see what comes in work-wise and go from there.’ But it’s said without the usual sense of freedom, almost sounding a little bitter.

Trying to swallow down her emotion – because she doesn’t want to inflict that on him – she closes the distance between them and hugs him, breathing in his scent for the last time.

His arms come around her, like he can’t help himself, and she squeezes her eyes shut, resting her head on his chest. She feels his fingers flexing on her back.

She wants to tell him that she’s leaving too.

That she’s quit her job, that she’s going to try something new. But she can’t get the words out.

‘So, past lives, huh?’ he says as he pulls back.

She wonders if he just doesn’t know what else to say.

She managed to stop the tears earlier, at her mum’s house, but now she’s crying as she nods.

‘Well then,’ he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

‘Maybe we’ll meet again, in another one.

’ But not in this one – because he won’t come back. He has no reason to. Not any more.

She tries for a smile. ‘You think?’

‘Maybe. Maybe that will be our chance to get it right.’ She doesn’t know if he actually believes that or whether he is humouring her, but it makes her think of what Mia said. And about what Saskia said – about having patience. About the timing needing to be right.

He hesitates, then kisses the top of her head – a fleeting, tender gesture. ‘I’ll see you, Liss.’

With that, he’s moving away from her, back turned in a sudden and complete full stop.

She watches him walk across the road, the rain soaking through to her skin.

And she knows, in that instant, that she can’t do it.

She can’t stand by while he walks away – can’t lose him, not again.

Chloe lost her life on this day all those years ago, and as such, the day has always held meaning for her.

But maybe that’s okay, because it’s a reminder to take chances, to live her life.

It’s a question of timing. But who’s to say the timing isn’t right now? As Saskia said, all you can ever do is make the best possible choice in the moment. And this is the choice she wants to make right now.

She takes a step after him. ‘Wait.’

He stops like he was listening out for her voice. Turns back. Something like hope flickers over his face. It’s that that makes her sure. The hope. Because like her, he’s had so much tragedy in his life, and she doesn’t want to be another point of darkness. She wants to be the light.

There is a lump in her throat as she moves towards him, and he mimics her, so that they’re in the middle of the road, a line of cars either side of them.

‘I love you,’ she murmurs. She can’t remember the last time she said the words out loud. It feels terrifying. Exhilarating.

For one heart-stopping moment he says nothing, staring at her. Then a corner of his mouth pulls up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice is steady, certain. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’

The smile spreads a little. ‘Better late than never.’ But he doesn’t reach for her. Instead he stays still, watching. Because, she supposes, that doesn’t necessarily change anything.

She swallows. She’s the one who has to take the chance here. Who has to take the leap of faith. ‘I love you,’ she says again. And now she closes the distance between them, framing his face with her hands. Her voice grows a little smaller. ‘And I don’t want you to leave me.’

He reaches for her waist, pulls her to him. Beneath her sodden jumper, her skin heats at his touch. ‘I don’t want to leave you either. I don’t want to leave at all. I want to stay put – with you.’

Her heart rate spikes at the low, gravelly sound of his voice, and she places her hand on his chest to steady herself. ‘Then let’s do that, okay?’

‘Okay.’ And then he’s kissing her and she’s kissing him back, and there is no fear or hesitation, only the taste of him and the pull of something deep inside her. A car horn sounds, too close, and someone whoops.

Lissa is laughing as the kiss breaks off, as Ash pulls her to the side of the road so the car can pass, tyres throwing up water from the tarmac.

She laughs again as he lifts her on top of the bonnet of his car to keep kissing her.

The rain beats down on their heads – she can feel it as she fists her hands in his hair.

When they finally stop, they are both breathless.

‘I hate to say it,’ Ash says against her mouth, ‘but I reckon we need to make a break for it.’ Another car passes, splashing in a newly formed puddle. He cocks his head, his hands resting on her thighs. ‘Your place?’

‘No,’ she says, jumping down from the bonnet. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’ He considers her, then concedes with a nod, fishing out keys and unlocking the car.

Inside, it’s all steamed up. She shivers, partly from the cold, her wet clothes clinging to her. Partly from something else entirely.

He flicks an eyebrow as he looks at her. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘Anywhere!’ She can feel excitement bubbling over. It’s got to be right. This has got to be the choice she was supposed to make. ‘Let’s go to Spain.’

He gives her a sceptical look. ‘You don’t have any clothes.’ He starts the engine, pulls out. Away from Bath, and towards the motorway.

She makes a pff sound. ‘I’ll buy some. Or Brazil,’ she says, gripping his hand on the gearstick. ‘I’ll come with you.’ She can do the camp another time, can’t she? She can figure out the rest of her life later.

His lip quirks. God, she fucking loves this man. ‘How about we go to the beach?’

‘Sure,’ she agrees with a nod. She lets go of his hand, pushes her fingers through her hair. ‘Let’s just go somewhere.’ Because she needs to do something, she needs to celebrate this. ‘Let’s go and have sex on the beach.’

He snorts. ‘You know, I tried that once. Not all it’s cracked up to be.’ But his gaze slides to hers, and something inside her fizzes. He takes her hand where it rests on her lap, links his fingers with hers.

‘You know I love you, right?’ he murmurs.

She looks at him, fingers gripping tight. ‘I have always loved you.’ She feels it, right down to her soul. And she knows in that moment that the past doesn’t matter, because he is the person she’s supposed to be with. He is everything. Her past and her future.

She looks back down to their joined hands, smiling.

It’s only when she looks up that she sees.

Headlights coming towards them through the dark cloud, the rain.

It doesn’t register at first, like things are moving in slow motion. A second to realise what’s happened. To see the lorry skidding on the wet road, across the single carriageway and over to their side.

It’s going to hit them. It’s obvious, in that moment. It’s going to hit them, and there’s nothing Ash can do about it. He has already snatched his hand from her grip. He is already turning the steering wheel. He glances at her, his eyes dark and terrified. Not for himself. But for her.

And she sees what he’s going to do. He’s already doing it, already turning so that he’s the one who will take the impact. So that the lorry, sounding its horn now, like that could possibly help, will hit him first.

She sees one more thing in that instant between life and death. She sees it from the way he shakes his head, like he’s shaking away a memory. From the way his eyes flash – wide, bright.

He remembers. He remembers what they were to each other. He remembers that this has happened before – his death, over and over, because of her. A loop destined to repeat.

Her ears are ringing, pulse spiking. It’s happening again.

And she sees it now, the other times it’s happened, almost exactly like this.

Drowning, a gunshot, a car. Different deaths, but the same moment, just before.

A moment where she has to choose him – or choose something else.

Like the art school she didn’t go to because of him.

Not because he asked her not to go, but because she couldn’t stand to lose him.

Maybe because of what happened with Chloe, because she can’t bear to lose another person. It’s connected, like Saskia said.

She chooses him instead of following her own path. He doesn’t have these flashbacks, because it’s not him making the wrong choice – it’s her.

And now it’s all happening again. This realisation happens in the time it takes to take a breath. Like she is briefly suspended, looking down at the scene.

She can’t change the past. She never could. And it’s not punishment – it’s like Darcy said. The universe is offering her a chance, each time, to get it right. To try and forgive herself for what happened to her sister and move on. To choose herself, in this moment, and not him.

She nearly did it this time. So in the second before the lorry hits, she takes Ash’s hand, grabs the steering wheel to steady it. There will be another chance, she’s sure of it. This will not be the end.

She smiles at him, bright and sure, as he turns to her in horror.

‘I love you,’ she says. Right before the moment of impact.