Page 257 of The Long Way Home

“He’s just territorial…”

I scoff. “He’s an arsehole is what he is.”

She gives me a look and I cock my head in his direction.

“As if that doesn’t bother you.”

“Not really,” she says quietly, her nose in the air. And I can’t tell if she’s lying. “It’s nice to be needed sometimes.”

She moves a pile of plates over to the sink and my heart does the same.

I stare over at her, wonder what she means.

I bring over some cups. She’s running the water, filling up the basin.

I give her a look. “You want to be needed for that?” I tell her as I move her by the waist away from the sink, taking over.

There’s a dishwasher by the way, obviously. Don’t want to use it. Want a reason to be close to her.

I hand her a tea towel, though I’ll die of shock if she knows what to do with it. She glances up at me, frowning.

She gives me this weak shrug that crushes me for some reason. “Better than nothing,”

“Are you joking?” I shake my head at her. “Is that what all this shit is about? Fuck, Parks, I need you for that—”

Her face strains. “Ah, well, that’s not strictly true is it, Beej?” She bites down on her bottom lip, looking serious. “Paili, Jordan—”

I lick my bottom lip. “You can’t hold Paili over me forever.”

“Says who?” She gives me a proud, defiant look.

“Besides.” She shrugs as though the conversation’s not killing her. “You’ve found lots of other people to fulfil that need.”

I shake my head at her, solemnly. “No, I haven’t.”

I’ve tried. I’ve tried a thousand different people a thousand different ways. It’s not the same. I pass her a plate to dry.

She wraps the towel around it. Holds it as she gives me a little heartbroken stare. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

My jaw goes tight and I shake my head more. I don’t know how to tell her that it’s true, I don’t want anyone but her, she’s the only thing on this whole fucking planet that I need and I’d marry her right now here on the spot if I could work out how to be good enough for her.

But instead I pass her another plate to dry, and she blinks down at it.

“What do I do with this?”

I sniff a laugh, take it and the tea towel offer.

“Swap with me,” I tell her. Then nod at the sink of dishes. “The goal is to wash the food residue off the plates.”

She flicks her eyes at me, washes a couple of plates so badly I make a note of putting them in the dishwasher after she’s gone to bed.

She purses her lips and peers over at me.

“I think about the stairs a lot. At Varley.”

I look over at her. “Since the other night?”

She shakes her head. “Before that too.”

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