Page 108 of Worth Every Risk

“Excellent.” She clasps her skeletal hands together and rests them in her lap. “Thank you.”

Just then, the door opens, and Aries, all beautiful smiles and red hair, comes back in. “What are you two talking about?” she asks, glancing suspiciously between the two of us.

“I think your mother was reading my energy,” I tell her, unable to keep the ridicule out of my voice and the scepticism off my face.

“Ah. Was it awful, Mum?”

Mrs McClennon’s eyes gleam, her thin lips almost smiling. “No. Not at all, actually.”

The answer surprises me and, if I’m not mistaken, delights me too because a smile is stretching my mouth. Even if all this talk of energy and healing is way beyond anything I’m familiar with, or would ever take seriously, she’s still Aries’ mother, and if me being ‘not awful’ is the best she can come up with, then I’ll take it.

“Not awful,” Aries muses. “That’s just what I think too.” She grins at me, and any lingering irritation I feel fades away entirely.

“Oh, good,” I deadpan, exaggerating an eye roll.

“Yes.” Aries walks towards me and kisses me on the mouth. Not explicitly. It’s chaste, even, but I can feel the thrum of passion behind it. “Very good.” She brings her mouth to my ear and whispers, “She likes you. I can tell.”

Mrs McClennon’s sharp eyes are on me, even as Aries’ breath is cooling against my neck. Her gaze is watchful, but not unkind.As if she knows I’m trying to work her out, she winks and smiles, and unbidden, I laugh.

“Maybe,” I whisper back to Aries.

“Definitely.”

And again that unnerving warm sensation flows through me as though, in spite of everything Mrs McClennon said and warned me against, Aries is shining light into my darkest corners, healing parts of me I’ve long kept hidden.

I want to cling to her, hold her against me, and make this sensation of wholeness last as long as I fucking can.

31

ARIES

We’ve settled into a rhythm of sorts, now we’re all back in the London house. We have slightly less sex because Matt’s still worried about Charlie finding out, given his bedroom is up on the top floor with me and Lucie. Matt won’t come anywhere near my space, and I can tell he’s anxious if I go to his room.

The distance only makes me long for him. Each secret touch at the table or in the hall is charged with electricity that could bring the house down. I know he feels it, because he grabs me when no one’s around and whispers things like, “God, I want to fuck you. Can I?”

Sometimes, I laugh. Other times, if we can steal a moment, we do exactly that. Fuck. Hard and fast. So damn satisfying. In the pantry, a cupboard, the boot room. Reckless, but addictive. And every time we do, I feel my heart opening that little bit more.

I know to the core of my being that Mum’s statement—You don’t like men—doesn’t hold up anymore. Because this man—Matthew Hawkston—I like very,verymuch. I’m fiercely attached to him in every way; spiritually, emotionally and, ofcourse, physically. I just haven’t managed to admit it yet. I’ve come close, but I haven’t come out and told him I’m falling in love with him. Have fallen, perhaps. Just the thought makes me feel both vulnerable and buoyant, as though I’m floating on a cloud that could vanish at any moment.

Today, Lucie and I are in the park, waiting for Charlie’s tennis camp to finish. Ordinarily, he walks himself home, but this afternoon Lucie wanted to come down here to play, so I figured we might as well pick him up. I’m trying to put the whole affair with Matt out of my mind, but it's not working. October first. That’s the end game, but I really don’t know what the end game means. I push Lucie on the swing, half a mind on how we’ll explain to a four-year-old that I’m… what? Her daddy’s girlfriend?

I’m keeping an eye on the time, so after negotiating Lucie off the swing, we head down to the tennis courts. We’re a little late, and for a moment I wonder if we’ve missed Charlie entirely. Then I catch sight of him off to one side, with two other boys. They’re bigger than Charlie, both in height and breadth; older than him too.

I frown. There’s something about the interaction that doesn’t look altogether friendly. They’re jostling him between them, shoving him from each side. It reminds me of something I can't place, but whatever it is, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

Maybe it’s just banter. Joking around.

“Come on, Lucie, let’s get a bit closer.” She takes my hand and we traipse down the grassy bank to the courts.

Charlie and the boys have their backs to us, but one of the boys turns sideways and I get a glimpse of his profile.

I recognise him instantly from Charlie’s Speech Day. One of the Charlton twins—the sons of the man Charlie’s mum is dating. It takes me a fraction of a second to realise the other boy is the twin.

As I watch the interaction, my mind whirs. Charlie said the kids who beat him up had left school. The knowledge that I withheld the incident from Matt churns malevolently in my mind. I’d managed to convince myself I didn’t need to say anything because it was over, and I’d promised Charlie I wouldn’t. Stupid, maybe. But I did it. Now, seeing the way they’re shoving him, I know it’s not over, and I'm certain that these are the kids who beat Charlie up.

He isn’t fighting back. He’s taking it, his body limp, resigned, his tennis racket dangling from one hand as the two older boys shove him between them.

Anger rises in me, and I find myself letting go of Lucie’s hand, bidding her to stay put, as I rush towards Charlie.

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