Page 87 of Fire Fight

But his dark lashes flutter as his eyes close, a drawn-out sigh releasing from his throat. The longer I try, the easier it becomes until the repetitive movements and pressure work to ease the frown lines from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says under his breath, then straightens a little, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry for frightening you. Everything was so hazy; I couldn’t process anything. Finding her…”

He chokes to a halt, and I ache to think of him discovering her body. I don’t want to push him back into that agony, I want to help him. Offer the chance to stop. Mumble about how it’s all right, I know he didn’t mean it.

But I nearly bite my lip in two to stop myself because it’s not true.

He did mean it.

He didn’t justwantto hurt me, he succeeded. The actions he took that day caused me lasting harm. There’s always going to be a part of me trapped in that moment, certain I’m about to die.

And no matter how much I want to move past this—to forgive him and move on—I can’t do that without theapology he owes me.

So, I keep my mouth shut, continuing the massage while he regains control.

“Finding her hollowed me out until there was nothing left. Then I saw Harriet with the pills, and I was so angry. When she pointed me towards you, it was too much.”

Drake twists towards me, burying his face in my chest, a large hand covering mine as he fights to swallow, face wracked with grief.

“I know we hadn’t been all that close since Intermediate, but I couldn’t stand losing you. I hated that you were involved.”

“But I wasn’t involved.”

His eyelids close, the long lashes trembling as he fights for control.

“She peeled off the label.” I try to draw back, and his hand won’t let me. His eyes open. Changeable, beautiful; an abyss of pain. “She would only have done that to protect the person who gave her the pills. That’s why I was so sure once Harriet told me. It made sense when it was you and was nonsense for anyone else.”

A shudder wracks his body, and he faces forward again, releasing my hand.

I resume the motions, fingertips digging through his hair, rubbing hard circles on his scalp. Salt from his morning swim thicken the strands, making them stiffer than if he’d used product.

“Afterwards, I held onto the fury because I hated what my life became. Not just the camp, though that was bad, but movinghere with my father. I hated him being so different from Mum. Cold where she was warm. After a few months of trying, I couldn’t stand to spend time here. And every night before I fell asleep in my car, I’d think how everything that had gone wrong in my life could be laid at your door.”

He takes both of my hands, squeezing them, and I hold tight in return.

“I’m sorry for turning you into a monster when you’d only ever tried to be my friend. Sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for every time you woke from a nightmare because I put those fears in your head. I would do anything to take it back.”

It’s not perfect but nothing about us has ever been perfect.

What matters is how light my body feels, like each word he spoke took away some of the suffocating weight that’s slowly, inexorably, crushed me to the ground.

The words are a balm to the worst of my memories. I shake his hands free to hug him, resting my forehead on the curve of his shoulder, letting my hot breath warm the shiver on his skin.

It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.

“I forgive you.”

We sit like that, warming, comforting each other, for long minutes. The first pieces of scar tissue stitching over the deepest of my wounds.

Then I give a shake, placing my fingers on his scalp again, working out the tension until his forehead is free of pain lines. His breathing is slow and even.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, capturing my right hand and pulling it across his chest, folding it inside his. “I should coax you into bed more often.”

I stretch my legs out, lying beside him, tucking myself inside the bends of his body like a nesting doll while the steady pump of his heart vibrates against my palm until we both fall asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CADENCE

---