Chapter 25
twenty-five
AMANDA
I woke earlier than I meant to, cocooned somewhere between the scratchy warmth of the ancient tartan blanket and the sad, deflating sigh of the blow-up bed beneath me.
The office was more of a catch-all storage room with a desk shoved against one wall, still lying blanketed in grey with the early morning light.
Papers rustled faintly where we'd stacked them out of the way, a tangle of extension cords coiling to my left, and the faint hum of the old radiator made the space feel like it was alive.
The house beyond the door was quiet, full of sleeping bodies and muffled sounds.
Floorboards creaked, a distant kids' cartoon talked in squeaky, muffled voices.
A dog gave a sleepy huff somewhere beyond my door.
I lay there for a few minutes fighting the urge to pee, and find Henry.
My breath fogged above me, warning me to stay tucked up and cosy.
But my throat was dry, and my bladder cried out for relief. The blow-up mattress gave a resigned wheeze as I fought to stand. The bed shifted every time I moved. I found one of Henry’s sweaters and pulled it on over my pyjamas, shivering from the chill.
I padded down the corridor, socked feet cold against the wooden floorboards, careful not to disturb the little pockets of sleeping people scattered throughout the house.
Every room was bursting to overflowing with family members, and the air still felt thick with the warmth of yesterday’s fun.
I wasn’t used to this kind of familial closeness, so many people under one roof.
Halfway down the stairs, I slowed. Henry’s voice drifted up from the kitchen. A murmur meant for someone other than me.
I should have kept walking to the bathroom or made some noise so they knew I was there. Anything other than listen in. I paused, one hand on the bannister, my breath held just a little too tightly.
And that's when I heard my name.
'…Amanda.'
A wash of heat prickled across my chest.
His mum made a soft, amused noise before speaking more words I couldn't quite make out, and then Henry replied, his voice low and unguarded in a way that made my pulse trip.
'She's everything.'
My hand tightened on the bannister, breath catching in the middle of my throat.
But then he continued talking. Lots I couldn’t make out, and then one sentence I could.
'I feel like I've been waiting for her without knowing I was waiting.'
The warmth vanished, as if someone opened a window into a blizzard.
It was supposed to be a fling. Just two people enjoying each other for a few days.
My stomach clenched. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.
Everything had moved so fast. Ridiculously fast. Too much like a snow globe romance, trapped together by circumstance.
Desire in a pressure cooker. Not something that could be expected to last. He’d soon see the real me.
The messy woman with nothing to offer but a good paycheque and a busy job.
No big, sweet family to bring him home to, or perfect girlfriend vibes where I’m an excellent cook.
My sister largely kept our flat clean, and when I wasn’t working I mostly survived on ready meals.
His mum murmured something soothing, but the sound blurred in the buzz of blood rushing in my ears.
I stepped instinctively backwards, trying not to make the stairs creak, and drew back into the corridor as quietly as I could.
Each step made the house seem narrower as though the air itself had thickened with Henry’s admission.
Opening up to his mother made it all far too real than I was ready for.
Because I would be going home, and he’d be staying in Otterleigh Bay.
By the time I had reached the office and slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me, my lungs felt like I’d inhaled a tub of golden syrup.
I collapsed back onto the blow-up bed, the plastic groaning beneath me, its uneven shape tilting and rolling me right onto the wooden floor. It felt right, somehow messy, just like me.
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to pick through my emotions, which felt stuck together like a bag of partially melted boiled sweets.
It wasn't anger. Or betrayal. It was a mix of wanting him as badly as he wanted me, but knowing that I wasn’t looking to settle down.
I’d come to Bayview Manor to escape my sad life, not to add more complications to it.
I was torn between following my heart and giving Henry and me a chance, and shutting things off before we both fucked it up and hurt each other.
Was it better to risk the pain, or enjoy our fling for what it was?
I pressed a hand to my sternum, trying to slow my erratic breathing.
I'd let myself get carried away with the closeness, the snow, the kisses and one deliciously pierced cock. I’d lost myself in desire, sinking into the heady world of Henry and his sweet demeanour, which masked his pain and pleasure-filled Dom side.
It was fast. Intense. I’d been caught up in his ropes and pulled under with his heady current. And I couldn’t even blame him, and he’d done the same.
But the truth was that I'd already begun falling for Henry. And I didn’t know what to do with that. He was younger than me, and what if I was mistaking lust for something more?
I curled onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I just needed a minute to breathe and figure out a way to walk back downstairs and pretend I hadn't overheard him. Pretend that he hadn’t just cracked whatever was happening open to the world.