Chapter Twenty-Four
It was only then that Damien turned to her – green eyes bright and wide and … angry.
‘What the devil was that?’
Ava leaned against the wall, for her breath scraped in her chest like glass paper. Her lips felt cold, her skin, too – and when she tried to speak again her words dissolved into a shuddering cough.
‘Ava?’ His expression faltered. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ she croaked. ‘I just …’ She tried to clear her throat, and sank into another fit of coughing. ‘I get winded sometimes.’
‘Ah.’ He braced one hand on the wall above her shoulder – green eyes searching. ‘One of the boys at school had that. Got it whenever he had to run. Just … lift your head.’
She did so, looking up into his eyes. They were such a beautiful green – in some lights they looked bright, like sun-dappled leaves – but here, in this gloom, they looked like the depths of a lake.
‘Now breathe through your nose. As gently as you can.’
Breathing had never felt intimate before – but somehow it did, standing here with him. He was close enough that she could see the flecks of dried blood that’d snagged on his stubble, could see how his cheek was reddening slowly, each of her fingers becoming its own, distinct shape.
‘I’m sorry for slapping you,’ she said softly, the words coming out a little better now. A little more even. ‘I hadn’t intended for it to be quite so hard.’
‘You shouldn’t have intervened,’ he said, not moving away. He was looking at her as though she were something fragile – something that could break. ‘You should’ve just kept walking.’
‘If I hadn’t, you’d be in far worse shape than you are now.’
She watched him swallow. Watched the muscle in his jaw tighten. ‘True. Although I must admit, I’m … I’m a little impressed.’ He looked at her, his gaze making her pulse skitter. ‘There was a fierceness in you, Ava. Courage.’
She let out a short breath, a half-laugh. ‘I barely remember what I said.’
‘I remember every word,’ he said, still looking at her – as though he wasn’t just admiring what she’d done, but who she was when she did it.
He looked … charged. As though a current had sparked through him – and the longer she looked at him, the more she wondered whether it was sparking through her, too. ‘What was that about Paris?’
‘I … honestly. I don’t know. It just … came out.’
‘It was genius, Ava – gathering a crowd. Brilliant, in fact. You were brilliant.’
She wanted to brush it off – wanted to retreat into something safe and sharp – but her skin still fizzed from the rush of it all.
Fierce. Brilliant.
She hadn’t felt either of those things in a long time. Not really. But if he’d seen them … then maybe they weren’t entirely gone.
‘Still,’ he said, his hand sliding from the wall as he came to lean beside her. ‘You could’ve been hurt.’
‘You were being hurt,’ said Ava, studying him out of the corner of her eye.
‘Perhaps I deserved it,’ said Damien, his gaze still upwards – and she followed it. To the rooftops that clustered above them, and the washing that hung in lines between them.
‘You know what my mother always used to tell my brother?’ Ava asked.
Damien shrugged.
‘Seek out trouble, and you shall always find it.’
‘Sounds like your mother was smarter than I am,’ he muttered. ‘Weren’t you worried that someone might recognize you?’
Ava breathed a humourless laugh through her lips. ‘I shouldn’t worry about my reputation if I were you.’ An actress with a failed engagement? She wasn’t sure it could sink much lower.
‘People might still spread gossip.’
She watched the sheets above her billowing back and forth in the salt-tinged wind. ‘It wouldn’t be any worse than what my friends said of me today.’
He turned to her – and it took more effort to keep her gaze fixed upwards, for she knew if she looked at him now he would see it written plain as ink upon her face. The humiliation of it.
‘What did they say?’
Ava was quiet for a long moment. ‘The truth,’ she said softly. ‘Which I suppose is why it hurt as much as it did.’
‘Mmm,’ said Damien, reaching to rub at his cheek, and wincing. ‘The truth is always harder to hear.’
‘Why is that?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s because we often try and hide from it. Ignore it, maybe, or – pretend it isn’t there. But it’s hard to ignore it when someone else throws it in your face.’
‘Mmm.’
He lolled his head to the side, green eyes watchful. ‘I suppose this is the part where you tell me you wish to discontinue our sessions?’
Ava blinked at him, stunned. ‘I thought you would be the one to ask me that after what happened.’
‘Do you want me to?’ His eyes didn’t leave hers.
‘No,’ she said, and his gaze softened a little. ‘But I think this will only work if you can forgive me. For how it went, last time.’
His mouth curled upwards. ‘I reckon I can do that,’ he said.
‘And you’ll need to trust me,’ she said. ‘We’ll need to trust one another if this is going to work.’
‘After that spectacle, I believe I’m starting to,’ he said quietly.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Though I shall have to find us someplace else. The house is too cramped.’
Damien didn’t answer, merely pushed himself off the wall, offering out his elbow to her. ‘For the record,’ he said, a ghost of a smile upon his lips now. ‘If I’d agreed to take you to Paris, I would’ve done it.’
‘For the record,’ said Ava, straightening. ‘I wouldn’t marry you even if you asked.’
‘See? You do remember what you said.’ His laughter was bright, and it echoed from the brick. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you home.’
They were quiet on their walk back towards the docks – but it wasn’t a scratching silence, as it was with her father. Or a heavy silence – as it had always been with Jem. This felt … different. Peaceful.
‘Will you send word of where to meet you?’ he asked, the black gate creaking as he opened it for her to walk through.
‘If you’ll give me your room number, I’ll send a note,’ said Ava. ‘I tried to write you an apology, you know. After that session – but the clerk at the desk said no one with your name was staying there.’
Something skittered across his expression. ‘That’s because they have me down as O’Brien.’
‘O’Brien …’ Ava said, trying the name on her tongue. ‘And which is the truth? The name you gave the clerk, or the one you gave me?’
‘The one I gave you.’
She smiled a little at that. ‘Why did you give him an alias?’
Damien caught her eye. ‘Have you seen the man? He hardly looks trustworthy.’
She supposed that was fair, although she still couldn’t see the benefit of giving a false name.
‘Best just write the room number on the envelope, though,’ Damien said. ‘Lest you confuse the poor creature. It’s room 13.’
‘Unlucky,’ Ava mused, putting the key in the door. And so she didn’t see the way he looked at her when he said:
‘Perhaps not as unlucky as I thought.’