Page 97 of Some Kind of Love

“Amber,” he calls softly from the door. “We may have only been dating a month, but I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. You’ll realise that when it’s time.”

“Why?”

Confusion flits across his face. “Why what?”

“Why do you love me?”

I feel like if I could understand this, it would in some way lift the cloud obscuring my vision, preventing me from seeing him, us, clearly.

A flicker of a small smile lifts the left corner of his mouth, and he comes onto his knees in front of me, picking up my hand in his. He turns it, guiding his fingers along the lines of my palm. “Because of these.” His hand lifts to the curve of my cheek where four small moles create a diamond shape. “Because of these.” Next, his fingers graze along the arch of my eyebrow. “And this.”

“What do you mean?” I want to lean into his touch, but I hold myself back, keeping my darkened heart in control of my body.

“Because for ten, very long years, I couldn’t forget the smallest bit of you. You’re mapped onto my soul.”

“I don’t deserve that.” I think of the betraying secret I kept from him for ten years, the denial I tried to maintain when I came back to town. I think of me leaving my mum ten years ago. I think of the fact I ran away and never saw my dad properly again. The many wrongs I’ve done hammer along my ribcage building a permanent home in my heart.

“Let it go, Amber.” He knows what I’m thinking about. How can he forgive me that easily?

Tracing a feather soft brush of his index finger along the curve of my lip, he watches me for a long moment before the flicker of a smile hints again and he pushes away from me.

“Where are you going?” I croak back, an intense void of loss and emptiness threatening to pull me under.

"I’m going to get us a drink, because honestly, I feel like I need one. After that, I’m going to call Elliot, and then, Amber, I’m going to be right here waiting for you to let me in."

The moment the door closes, I go back to staring into the black depths of the room. Later, when Freddy comes back in, I have my back turned, my attention focused on the blank white wall. He stretches himself out alongside me, and the space between us feels like a vast chasm that I can’t cross. Finally, at some point in the night, I edge myself away from Freddy’s fully dressed, sleeping form, and make my way into the sitting area where I throw myself onto the sofa. Even lying next to Freddy feels like a guilty pleasure that I shouldn’t be allowed right now.

We makethe trip to London in silence. It’s been a quiet morning, as we got ready to go and collect Isaac. Normally, Elliot would make the drop off, but Freddy arranged otherwise. I’m sure he’s trying to put some space between the tragedy of yesterday and me, but he can’t. He can’t take it out of my head.

My mum is dead.

I spent ten years ignoring her.

I spent the eighteen years before that not understanding her.

I still don’t understand her.

Now I never will.

My legs starts to jig up and down again as these thoughts run through my head and my heart rate accelerates until I feel clammy and hot, and an over-spill of bile threatens to escape onto the car seat.

I need to get out of this damn truck and get some air.

As if he’s reading my mind, Freddy checks the lanes of traffic in the rear-view before swiftly manoeuvring the car to the hard shoulder. Turning to me from the driver’s side, a crease of worry runs across his brow, making him look his real age for the first time. “Amber, you’ve got to breathe.” He leans in and places his nose against mine. I want to pull away from his touch, but he holds onto me, his hands sliding up my shoulders until they rest along my throat, his thumbs sweeping my jaw. “Breathe.”

I’m thinking he might kiss me, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about that. It would seem wrong, I think. But I don’t need to worry. He doesn’t move any closer, he just holds my face in the palm of his hands as he breathes along with me. Eventually I manage to sync my breath with his and my chest rises and falls, taking in more air than it has done since we stood outside my burning house yesterday.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, his hands releasing me and falling back onto the steering wheel.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Amber, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

I let out a rueful laugh. “Believe me, Freddy, I have a lot.”

His quick blue daze casts a look over my face. “Are you ready to pick Isaac up now?”

I drag in another lungful of air, pretending to myself that I’m still breathing in and out with Freddy’s assistance. “Yeah.”

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