Page 107 of The Vanishing Place
“Couldn’t what?” she demanded. “That you couldn’t kiss me? Couldn’t bear to touch me?”
Lewis shook his head and let out a frustrated groan. “For fuck’s sake, Effie.”
“I get it,” she said. “You want to save me. You think I’m some fragile bush girl in need of rescuing.” Her lips trembled. “Well, I’m not. And I don’t need your help or your pity.”
“Pity?” Lewis balked. “I don’t pity you.” He threw his arm out in the direction of the water, his voice raised. “You left. You left and you never looked back. You built a whole new life for yourself on the other side of the world, and you didn’t give a single thought to the people you left behind.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“You didn’t give a shit about the one person who loved you more than…” Lewis balled his fingers into a fist, his body shaking, then he turned away.
Effie didn’t move or make a sound. She seemed to have forgotten how to form words.
Eventually, Lewis looked back, his eyes damp, and Effie’s chest constricted.
“I missed you, Effie.”
She shook her head; it was all she could do.
“You didn’t call,” said Lewis. “In seventeen years, you didn’t call.”
“I—”
“I thought about you all the time,” he said, moving nearer. “I wondered where you might be, or who you might be with. Who was getting to love you.” He stepped closer. Too close. “Does that sound like pity to you?”
Effie bit into her lip, her muscles vibrating, and she was fifteen again.
“And now,” he said, “you’re here.”
His face was right there in front of her, the warmth of his breath brushing against her neck and cheek.
She was fifteen and lost and heartbroken. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
Lewis took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, then he kissed her. He pulled her close, his mouth forceful, and Effie sank into him, her heart pounding as he lowered her to the sand. Lewis kept kissing her as she tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, and she ran a hand down his bare chest.
Effie groaned as he moved his head down to her stomach. He kissed her from her navel up to her neck, the damp warmth of his mouth seeping through the thin fabric of her singlet.
“Lewis,” she murmured.
He kissed along her collarbone, taking his time, and Effie clawed into his shoulders. With each touch of his tongue, something surged inside her, and she moved her fingers down to his jeans. She tried to undo the button, but he stopped her.
“Lewis?”
He looked up, a smile eclipsing his face, and lowered himself onto her, her body beating under the weight of him.
“Can I take you home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
“Yes.”
He kissed her again. “Thank god.” His smile widened. “I might have died if you’d said no.”
—
A few hours later, Effie crept back into June’s house. She didn’t want Anya to wake in the middle of the night and find she wasn’t there. She inched the girl’s door open, grimacing as the hinges creaked, and peered inside. But Anya was fast asleep.
