Page 42 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“So emotionally. And what? You’re afraid I’ll do the same?”

I don’t reply, and he looks puzzled. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says.

“You can’t say something like that.”

“I would do my utmost not to.”

“I know you would never mean to, but it doesn’t work like that. You can’t know how you’ll react to something.”

“React to what?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Whatever it is you’re hiding, I do my best not to judge.”

I don’t know how to explain myself. “It’s… it’s not just about you. How much someone can hurt you… it’s related tothe strength of your feelings for them… That’s garbled. Do you understand?”

He meets my eyes, and we study each other quietly for a moment.

“You have feelings for me?” he concludes.

“Of course I have feelings for you. And I know if we were to get involved, I’d fall for you very quickly and heavily. And therefore I could get hurt very badly if it all goes wrong.”

His expression softens. He likes that I’ve admitted how I feel. “What if I were to promise that we’d deal with whatever the problem was? We’d talk about it, discuss it calmly, unemotionally?”

I think about how I sat Charles down that terrible day, and how I did my best to explain what happened. And then I think about the look on his face—the disgust, the disappointment. I’m not sure now if he ever loved me, but certainly after that he didn’t. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t told him, but I’d crossed the bridge and burned it behind me, and there was no going back.

“No,” I say eventually. “I’ve made up my mind.” I’m not going down that road again.

He sits there for a moment, his eyes the only betrayal of his feelings. Then he gets up and takes his plate and mug over to the sink and starts running the hot water.

I study him for a moment. Then I finish off my own coffee and get up to take the plate and mug over.

He begins washing the dishes. I stand beside him, take them when they’re done, and dry them on the tea towel.

We don’t talk about it again.

Chapter Ten

Zoe

Despite feeling sad at the memory of our conversation, I have a whale of a time that day, loving every minute of being down in the ship, surrounded by the cold, quiet water. With Manu and Hori, we do twenty-minute dives, then resurface slowly and have a drink or a light snack and talk about our progress before going down again.

Joel is very strict about our time underwater and twice gets cross when I’m in the middle of something and ask for another few minutes, his eyes blazing behind his mask as he gestures for us to go up. When we eventually get back on the boat, he snaps, “When I say it’s time to surface, I mean it’s time to surface.”

“I know,” I reply, struggling out of my wetsuit. “I have no intention of staying down longer than I’m allowed. I just like winding you up.”

Emma barks a laugh as she passes me a bottle of water. Joel’s eyes narrow, but his lips curve up as he takes the bottle from me and removes the top.

“You shouldn’t play with me when we’re working,” he scolds, handing me back the opened bottle.

“Yes, sir.”

Emma snorts and goes off to check the gear. Joel holds my gaze for a moment, and I give him a cheeky grin before having a few mouthfuls of water.

“There’s so much marine life,” I say, lowering onto the seat for our short rest, glad of the warm sunshine. It’s cold down there. “I didn’t expect that for some reason. I thought it might scare the fish away.”

He sits beside me. “It’s now an artificial reef. It’s a temporary oasis that provides shelter and substrate.”

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