Page 81 of Fury

“We ruined it, not you, not Xanthe.” She sighs heavily. “I think back to those days so much and I wish I’d never toldMack what I suspected. If I’d have just kept my mouth shut, you wouldn’t have been sent away.”

“We can’t change . . . the past,” I say.

“But we can change the future,” she declares. “Xanthe loves you so much.”

“She’s mad I . . . don’t remember,” I mutter.

“What is there to remember? You’d only just met back up really. You both just need to get back to that point.”

“How?” I ask. “I see how much . . . love she’s got for me, the way she . . . looks at me like . . . I’m her life, and I feel so . . .”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Xanthe

Istand awkwardly in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at Fury, and it’s like all my fears are confirmed in that one sentence. It’s Mum who spots me, clapping her hand over his to shut him up. But it’s too late—I heard the part that mattered, even if he didn’t finish the words.

“I just came to say your room is ready,” I say, forcing a smile.

Fury jumps up, rushing towards me. “Shit, Xanthe, let . . . me finish.”

“It’s fine,” I say a little too brightly, turning on my heel. Fuck, if he touches me, I’ll crumble. I take the stairs two at a time. “Could you show Mum to the top floor?” I throw over my shoulder. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

I burst into my bedroom and slam the door closed, leaning against it. My heart is pounding, and I feel sick. He must think I’m such a desperate, sad act. I turn the lock and then pull a bag from under my bed. I was so certain I wanted to leave earlier, but after chatting with the girls and having one too many drinks, I’d softened a little, thinking maybe I should just stick around andsee what happens. But I can’t now. Not after hearing him confess that he doesn’t feel the same.

I pull my clothes from the drawers and stuff them into the bag, not caring if they’re crumpled. He taps lightly on the door, and I pause, holding my breath. I know it’s him just by the way he knocks.How sad is that?“Yeah?” I call, keeping my voice even.

“Can we talk?” he asks through the door.

“Now isn’t a good time. Maybe tomorrow?”

“But you didn’t let . . . me finish.”

“Finish what?” I ask calmly, going over to my dresser and sweeping all my products into my vanity bag.

“Let’s not pretend you . . . didn’t hear me.”

“I’d prefer to,” I say with a small, unamused laugh. “I’m tired, and I need to sleep the wine off. I’ll come and find you later.”

“Yah know, it’s an old . . . lady’s duty to listen to . . . her man,” he says.

My heart twists, and tears fill my eyes. “I’m not your old lady.”

It’s met with silence. At least he’s got the message. After a few seconds, I stuff the rest of my things into the bag and zip it up. I glance around the room to check for anything, and that’s when I see him standing in the conjoining doorway, watching me. His eyes fall to the bag and then back to me. “You didn’t lock . . . this one,” he says.

My adrenaline spikes, making my sickness worse. “I can see that,” I mutter, stuffing my feet into my trainers. “I’m just gonna go,” I add, grabbing my coat. “And it would be so much easier on my heart if you just let me.” A lone tear falls down my cheek.

“I was so fucking . . . mad when you didn’t . . . show earlier.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Nurse duties are done, I thought he’d realise that by now. “I wanted you . . . here when the doctor came.”

“There are plenty of people round to support you,” I mutter.

“They’re not you,” he says, stepping closer.

“And Mum will stick around for a while. She’ll love fussing over you.”

“I don’t want her to . . . fuss over me,” he says, gently taking my chin in his fingers and tipping my head back to look him in the eye. “I want you.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion.

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