Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Going to bed with him that night feels different. We’ve both committed to taking things slowly so there’s no chance of us reconnecting physically, but I feel as though I’m lying next to Ash tonight – my Ash. He’s no longer a stranger to me.
I’m facing his way when he climbs into bed and this time we mirror each other’s body positions, our heads on our pillows, staring into each other’s eyes. I’ve noticed he can look at me again now for extended periods of time. It’s everything.
He reaches out and lays his hand between us. I follow his lead and do the same. Our palms fit together like they were made for each other.
‘Goodnight,’ he whispers.
‘Goodnight,’ I reply with a smile.
We fall asleep like that.
The next day, I receive an email telling me that the boots I ordered yesterday have been successfully delivered. When I come out of the bathroom after showering, I find my bike helmet and armoured gear laid out on the bed.
‘You said you’d given it away!’ I exclaim.
Ash pokes his head around the door frame from the direction of the kitchen. ‘No, I said I only kept what I needed.’
‘You needed my bike gear?’
He shrugs. ‘When you left, I took you at your word. Doesn’t mean I didn’t also sometimes dream that you’d come back.’
I frown. ‘But if you knew there was a chance of that happening, why didn’t you reach out to me yourself? And why were you so hateful towards me when I did come on Saturday?’
He sighs and walks towards me. I back up so he can sit down at the end of the bed and then I take a seat next to him.
‘By that point, I’d convinced myself that I genuinely never wanted to see you again, fully talked myself into hating you.’
Pain lances my heart. ‘You did seem to detest me.’
‘It was better than the alternative.’
‘Which was?’
‘Giving up.’
His words stay with me all day. They plague me as we ride to Kington to pick up my boots. It’s hard to connect to the journey, to enjoy being his passenger again, the rush of air, the freedom. Even as we cross back over the English border into Cymru – the Welsh name for Wales – I can’t shed the darkness. There’s still so much he doesn’t understand.
When he suggests that we go out for dinner, I agree, thinking that this conversation might best be had in a public setting where I can’t crumble.
I’m not just worried about my reaction. I’m worried about his.
When we’re seated opposite each other at the pub after ordering, I take a ragged breath, bracing myself. ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What is it?’ he asks warily, his previously relaxed posture growing tense.
‘The counselling I’ve been doing this year … I’ve been looking back at my childhood, trying to get to grips with the way I was raised, unpicking the past and making sense of things.’
His brows draw together and he reaches across the table and takes my hand.
‘I know I gave you no chance to talk me out of leaving that day—’
‘You didn’t have a choice,’ he interrupts. ‘My father had fucked you over with your job.’
‘That’s true. But you must have felt so hurt and abandoned. You were going through a lot too.’
He swallows, giving me the slightest nod.
‘My need to escape was overwhelmingly powerful. I was terrified of your father.’ His grip on my hand tightens. ‘I used to know someone just like him. They were uncannily similar, from the way they spoke to the way they talked, even down to the way they smiled.’
I take a shuddering breath, steeling myself. Ash is beginning to look freaked out, but I try not to let his expression put me off saying what needs to be said.
‘When I was thirteen, my parents pulled me out of the state school I’d attended for two years with Stella and put me in private school. I hated it. I was so out of my comfort zone. I didn’t fit in and I missed Stella, but if I expressed any pain, my parents, especially my mum, came down on me like a ton of bricks.’
Ash squeezes my hand again, concerned.
‘The thing is, they didn’t put me into private school for my own benefit,’ I continue. ‘They did it for theirs. They used me to make connections with wealthy clients. It’s how they built their business.’ I swallow. ‘But I was a fish out of water. My mum made me join clubs and audition for plays, even though the thought of being up on a stage in front of strangers made me break out in a cold sweat. I didn’t get a part in either the Christmas play or the spring one, but we all went as a family to watch them anyway so that Mum and Dad could mingle with other parents. My mum had done her research before the spring play – she knew that the boy starring in it had a father who was a newspaper editor and a mother who worked at a style magazine. He was also one of the many kids who had not bothered to show up to the excruciating fourteenth birthday party my parents threw for me. When Mum realised after the play that she had another opportunity to make a connection, she insisted that I go up to congratulate him on his performance.’ My breathing feels constricted even now. ‘But when this boy saw me coming, he point-blank ignored me. My parents swooped in with a charm offensive on his mum and dad, and he got told off for not being more polite. It was mortifying . But as we were leaving—’ I break off to swallow. My throat feels so dry. ‘His father shook my hand. But he didn’t just shake it, he ran his thumb over my wrist and pressed down. It sounds like nothing.’
I reach for my drink and take a sip, trying to swallow the bile creeping up my throat. Ash’s expression has become very apprehensive.
‘But he did it with meaning, and the look in his eyes …’ I take another shaky breath. ‘My parents felt like they’d nailed it because he and his wife commissioned them to design a bespoke sofa range. A couple of weeks later, we were invited to go to their house for dinner, to talk about a colour palette and inspiration for the range and to see the space where the sofas would sit. I didn’t want to go. I had a bad feeling about that father, but when I confided in my mum that he creeped me out, she told me not to be ridiculous. She insisted that I join them. I kept feeling his eyes on me, and he kept asking me questions, trying to come off as polite and interested. My mum in particular lapped it up. I wanted to leave, but the night wore on and on. Their son disappeared upstairs to his room, making it clear I wasn’t welcome, so I had to stay at the table with the adults. I don’t know if you remember me telling you that when they drink, my mum gets meaner and my dad gets louder?’
Ash nods. He’s looking gravely concerned.
‘Well, my mum started making belittling comments about my dad and me, and Dad was getting louder and louder, and it was embarrassing. I just wanted a hole in the ground to swallow me up. Eventually, I escaped to the toilet, and when I came out, the father was there.’
Ash shakes his head slowly. I can almost hear his voice in my head: No. No. No.
‘He pretended to bump into me, but it wasn’t an accident. He pressed me up against the wall outside the bathroom and I could feel him rubbing his erection against my back. I felt frozen in place, completely overpowered. Then he just walked away.’ It makes me want to throw up, thinking back to that night. ‘That’s all he did. He never touched me again, never so much as looked my way, never asked another question, made me feel like I was nothing. It doesn’t sound like much, but, fuck, it messed with my head.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ Ash murmurs, his eyes filling. ‘Did you tell your parents?’
I nod. ‘I told my mum. She said I was being melodramatic and was so dismissive that I couldn’t bear to bring it up again, let alone confide in my dad and have him reject me too. They wanted that man for a client. It didn’t fit with their narrative, him clearly being a fucking paedophile, but God, I felt so alone.’ I shake my head, emotion welling up inside me. ‘I didn’t even tell Stella. Or my grandparents. Maybe I just didn’t want to worry them, but it’s always been there, needling away at me under my skin.’
Ash draws in a sharp breath. It’s hard to look him in the eye.
‘Your father reminded me of that dad from school. I felt incredibly vulnerable around him, horrifically under his control.’ I can still hear his silken voice, still see his penetrating steel-grey gaze. ‘No one could protect me from him.’ I meet Ash’s eyes across the table. ‘Not even you.’
He looks destroyed.
I release his hand and stand up. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
‘Ellie?’ he asks with panic.
‘I’m okay. Just give me a sec.’
Running my hands under cold water, I press them to my cheeks, staring at my haunted expression in the mirror. When I return to the table, our food has arrived.
Ash stares at me as I sit down. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, distraught.
‘It’s okay. I’ve been working through it all with a counsellor, but I thought it might help you to understand why I was so desperate to leave the day your father ripped my job out from under my feet. It was too much. I had to get out of there. But the thought of you hating me for leaving like that—’
‘I have never hated you,’ Ash states fiercely. ‘Not really. My walls have been up, but I loved you then and I love you now. Please forgive me for not protecting you from him. I wish I’d been stronger.’
I press my hand to his. ‘I don’t blame you. I couldn’t be prouder of you for making the decisions you have. I love you so much. I just want to move forward with you now.’
‘I want the same thing.’
It’s dark when we arrive back at the cabin, and the starlings are asleep. There’s a full moon tonight so we don’t need to turn on our phone torches to see the way, and it’s intimate, this darkness, this quiet. I feel as though we’re the only two people in the world.
Inside the cabin, Ash starts a fire while I light the candles in the glass lanterns around the house. The walls flicker with a golden glow as we sit down opposite each other, gazing at one another in silence.
‘What do you want to do tomorrow?’ he asks.
‘What do you suggest?’
‘I wondered if you might like to go to Raglan Castle. We could take a ride, maybe bring a picnic, see some sights like we used to do.’
‘I’d love that.’ I tuck my hair behind my ears, wondering if what I’ll say next will ruin the moment, but I can’t keep things from him. ‘Beca replied to my Instagram message. I saw it as we were leaving the pub.’
His eyebrows jump up. ‘What did she say?’
‘ Why has it taken you so long? ’
He huffs out a laugh and I smile at him.
‘She also gave me your postal address and directed me to the Spaceguard Centre, so I would have found you eventually.’
‘I’m glad you found me at the beginning of your week away.’
‘I can’t believe I’ve only got a few more days left,’ I reply. ‘How would you feel if I handed in my notice tomorrow and applied to Berkeley Hall?’
His eyes glimmer. ‘Shouldn’t you wait until you find out if you’ve got the job before handing in your notice?’
‘I’ve barely socialised in two years, Ash. I’ve got plenty in my savings account to get by until I find another position. It’s going to be hard enough being away from you while I work out my notice.’
He shakes his head at me, slowly, tenderly. ‘I could come with you back to Evesham if you want?’
My heart leaps. ‘You’d leave the woods ? For me ?’
My voice sounds so breathless and the questions come across as so silly that we both burst out laughing.
He’s still grinning when he places his hand over his heart. ‘Still gets to me.’ My sniggle.
I slide out of my chair and go to him.
‘Hey,’ he says with a low laugh as I try to curl up on his lap. ‘I don’t think these chairs are built for two people.’
‘Then take me to bed,’ I demand softly, touching his cheek.
He hesitates. And then he stands up, with me still in his arms, and walks into his bedroom, laying me down. This time he doesn’t back up, doesn’t retreat, he stays with me.
It’s darker in here without the light of the fire, but the lantern behind us has been lit and the windows above our heads are navy blue, not midnight black. I reach up and trace his brows, his lips.
‘I love you.’ My voice is filled with emotion.
He smooths away my hair and lays his hand gently on my throat. ‘I love you too.’
As our lips meet, my blood comes alive. He may look and feel different, but the way he kisses is the same: all-consuming, sure and deep. I bring my legs around him to draw him closer in a move that is familiar to us both. When his body connects with mine, we let out hot moans into each other’s mouths, and then he breaks the kiss.
‘Do you have anything?’ he asks, breathing heavily.
‘No.’ Oh fuck. Not this again.
He returns his lips to mine.
‘Are you smiling?’ I ask, taken aback as our teeth knock together. ‘I take it this means you do?’
‘No.’
‘How is this a good thing?’ I ask with alarm, pulling back so I can see his happy face flickering in the lantern light.
‘I’m just glad you didn’t pack condoms to go on your seaside holiday.’
‘Oh.’ I laugh. ‘No. You’re the last person I slept with.’
‘Same,’ he replies with a grin, adding, ‘Look at that smile,’ when I can’t stop beaming.
I bury my face in his neck and he squeals.
‘Oh my God, you are still so ticklish!’ I exclaim, cracking up. ‘You sound like a little girl.’
He silences me by grinding his hips against mine.
‘Okay, yes, you’re very much a man,’ I concede breathlessly, reaching down to unbutton his jeans.
‘Are we doing this?’ he asks.
‘Please, I want you. It’s not the right time of the month for me to get pregnant.’
‘And if you do?’
‘I’d have to marry you. I can’t have an heir out of wedlock.’
He laughs against my mouth.
We drag off the rest of our clothing, and then we stop laughing, because as soon as our bare skin connects I am just sensation and heat.
My scalp tingles as we stare deeply into each other’s eyes. And then he sinks into me, and I’m wrapped up in love, wrapped up in hope, wrapped up in Ash.
It’s the way I want to live for the rest of my life.