‘Last night, as you were falling asleep, you said it.’
She says nothing, and her silence is my answer.
‘You said it,’ I say, as gently as I can. ‘And I get it. That’s what youshouldwant. Like I said, it’s me that’s the problem.’
It takes her a little while to reply. She clutches the bedclothes a little higher up her chest, knuckles slowly whitening with the tightness of her grip. When she eventually speaks, her voice is as small as I’ve ever heard it.
‘What if I’ve changed my mind?’
‘Lucy, no.’
‘It happens.’ Her eyes meet mine, steely and determined. It reminds me of that first morning, when she was offering to let me share the annexe. It feels like such a long time ago now. ‘People change their minds about stuff like that all the time. Or things don’t work out like you expect. Family doesn’t have to mean marriage and babies, you know. You work with whatever you have.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t let you do that for me.’
‘You’re notlettingme do anything.’ Her face pinches into a frown. ‘I’m offering it. I want this.’
God, I want this too, and that’s what makes this so fucking hard.
‘I can’t be the one who takes that from you,’ I mutter into the space between us. ‘Not after we’ve known each other for four days. I need you to go back to your life and try to find what you’re looking for. If you still think you can deal with it, even if it takes ten years, I’ll be here, waiting for you, still looking exactly like this.’
I chance a smile, small and bittersweet. ‘But now I need you to go.’
She’s silent for a while, those clear blue eyes studying me. I remember thinking that they were the colour of the sky close to the horizon, and I need that to steady me more than ever.
‘What time’s your train?’ I manage, trying to force down the emotion in my voice.
She looks away. ‘Twelve.’
I nod. ‘You’d better get ready. I’m gonna…’ I motion towards the door, and she nods too. I’m gonna go wander the streets of Whitby in abject pain, if we’re being really honest, but she doesn’t need to know that.
‘Ok,’ she says quietly, and that’s the last thing she says before I leave. I can’t trust myself to go through with it if I spend another second with her. It’s better for both of us if, the next time I walk into this place, she isn’t here.
I hope like hell she’ll come back, but I can’t be the one who asks her to stay.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
LUCY
It’s started raining by the time I finally trudge up the last road to the station, and honestly, I welcome it. I’m glad the weather isn’t as lovely as the rest of the weekend was. I’m not sure I could bear it. Every plop of rain on my face validates my sorrow just that little bit more.
I know that’s not a very Glass Half Full Lucy Partridge thing to think, but I’m not feeling very Glass Half Full Lucy Partridge right now. The glass isn’t anything but smashed against a wall, fragments of said glass cutting into me as I walk.
It’s a beautiful building, the station, with five stone archways that stand tall over the entrance. I didn’t appreciate it in the rush of my arrival. I’m not sure I’m appreciating it much more now.
I think part of me thought that Bram might change his mind, maybe chase me through the streets like they do in romance books, but it hasn’t happened so far. And the streets themselves look different, painted in darker shades by the rain, and so far utterly devoid of goths. It feels like a different place. That fits, I guess, because I feel like a different person. I definitely acted like one.
For a while there, I forgot that everyone abandons me in the end. Why did I believe Bram would be any different?
A rain-soaked curl slaps against my cheek, and I don’t even jump. I barely notice it clinging to my face. I’m a hollowed-out version of myself, a million miles from the person who got jump-scared by an inanimate vampire.
I duck into the station and look up at the boards. My train is on time, already waiting for me on platform one.
I briefly consider not getting on it. I imagine walking back out of the station and searching for Bram and telling him that he’s wrong– that he can give me everything I need and much more– but then I remember his face as he told me to go, and I can’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of disappointing him. He asked me to go home, and so I’m going.
Like I said, people-pleasing is in my DNA.
I haul my bags onto the train and shuffle down to an empty double seat by the window, stowing my things on the seat next to me. The window is dappled with rain, slow drops which merge into rivulets as they fall. I watch one as it tracks a lazy path down before seeming to vanish into the small puddle at the bottom.