Page 79 of Versions Of Us

“She’s okay though. I tried to get her a job here, but Carla isn’t hiring right now. There will be a maternity leave position coming up but not for a few months yet.”

“It’s nice of you to ask anyway.” I don’t tell her that Mackenzie wanted to work in the bar with me. I’m still not sure I want that for her but at the end of the day it’s going to be her decision. Mackenzie isn’t one to listen to what other people think is best for her. “How’s everything going at the helpline?”

“Good. Stressful, but good.” She moves to the island bench and begins absent-mindedly stirring the bowl of brownie batter. She continues, almost as though she’s forgotten who she’s talking to. As though the last six months never happened. “It can be tough hearing some of the things these people are going through. But I think I’m making progress with this one girl. She calls me regularly. At least, I hope I’m getting somewhere with her.” She looks up, disturbing this newfound ease between us. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I say, stepping closer to her. If she only knew how badly I’ve longed to hear her voice. “I love listening to you talk. I’ve missed this.”

She turns to me and we’re standing only inches apart now. For a moment, neither of us makes another move, although I’m certain we can both feel the heat radiating between us. A pulling, as though an invisible tether is drawing us together.

I place a finger through her belt loop and tug her nearer. I can’t help it. This is second nature to me. She sighs, my chest filling with warmth where she comes to rest her forehead on it.

“Alex,” she breathes into me.

I wrap my other arm around her waist and pull her flush against me and then she’s looking up at me with glassy eyes.

Eyes that have a way of communicating to my soul.

They tell me how much she wishes things were different, how she wishes they had stayed the same.

They show me all the ways I’ve disappointed her.

I feel her fingers tugging at my t-shirt as she looks away and then back again. She’s fighting an internal war with herself, wanting what she shouldn’t want. Her hand travels upward, skimming my abdomen and chest before coming to rest on my face. Her fingers delicately trace my jaw before she laces both of her hands around my neck.

“I missed you,” she whispers, her voice pained.

Those words take all the air out of my lungs. “I missed you too.” I manage to choke out. “Every day.”

Then her lips are on mine, kissing me hungrily. She leaps upward, wrapping her legs around me and in one swift movement I swing her around, lifting her up onto the bench behind us. Her hands claw at my t-shirt and mine find their way up her thighs.

She pauses only to raise my shirt up and over my head. Then she’s kissing me again with urgency, as though this could end at any moment.

Maybe it could.

My hands slide upward underneath her t-shirt, skimming her rib cage as her fingers skim the waistband of my grey trackpants. All I can think about is how much I’ve wanted this and for a moment I can almost forget every lonely night I’ve spent these last six months.

Almost.

Then that voice of self-doubt finds me.

It always finds me.

And reminds me that I’m not worthy of any of it.

The shrill screeching of tyres on the street outside stops me dead and I pull away from her, slamming into the island bench behind me. There’s a pounding in my chest, my heart as it hammers against my rib cage.

The world goes dark.

The only sound my own breath, rapid and irregular.

Then I hear her, her voice soothing. A light in the darkness.

“Henley, what’s wrong?”

I want to reply but my mouth can’t form the words. It takes me a second to realise I’m sitting on the tiled floor, my back hard up against the kitchen cupboards, my knees curled into my bare chest.

“Henley,” she says. There’s only the slightest hint of panic in her voice and I find that reassuring in a way. “What happened? God, you’re shaking.”

“That noise,” I manage through gasps of air. “The car.”

---