‘No wonder you like to wear the gloves and the hazmat suit,’ he growled.
‘The boxes shouldn’t have been put straight onto the floor,’ she said. ‘I’ll fix that. Dry out these items and prevent more damage.’
Her tone was soft and gentle. As if he was the object being treated with kid gloves. That irritated him even more. He didn’t deserve gentleness. He didn’t want her or anyone touching this rubbish. It really all ought to be put on a bonfire. But he didn’t mention it. He couldn’t seem to manage a joke. ‘I’ll put it back in the boxes for now.’
‘Do you want some help?’
He certainly couldn’t look into her eyes now. He knew he’d see sympathy and concern. And other things.
‘No.’ He didn’t want anything from her.
‘Ash—’
‘You should go and have breakfast,’ he dismissed her abruptly. ‘I’ll be along in a bit.’
There was the barest hesitation before she left.
Ash drew in a sharp breath because now he knew. Last night something ordinarily impossible had briefly become imaginable—like a wisp of a magical fog that promised growth. But that wisp had evaporated in this morning’s light. All that remained here now was a musty, mildewy pile of meaningless stuff. There was nothing worth keeping. Especially not now the rot had set in.
He needed to leave.
He’d thought this trip would be simple enough. That he wouldn’t care. Instead, he’d discovered he still loved the place. Even with the changes there was something that would always move him here. And, in showing it to Merle, he’d remembered moments beyond those last painful ones when he’d faced his mother’s disappointment. Ironically, the hurt that came with those other memories was almost worse.
He’d tried to bury himself in Merle to avoid it all again. Only he’d woken this morning with the realisation that she was the problem too. Not just part of it but as much of a cause as any old memory. She’d shown him the world through her eyes, with an appreciation that was somehow contagious. She’d shown him more than this place: she’d shown him herself. And what had he done? He’d told her everything. Because she was real and right here. And she’d been gentle and accepting and she’d wrapped him in that wispy mirage of something impossible. He’d believed in it. In what she’d said. The importance of small things. So he’d come to check this morning. But it hadn’t taken long for reality to return. There was no point in unsealing old boxes. Not when the contents were half-rotten and couldn’t be fixed. Not when there was so little of any value left.
And when the wisps of promise were blown away, the truth remained. That hesitation he’d felt when she’d first come to him? He should have rejected her offer that night. Because the gorgeous Merle was asking for something in her bottomless eyes that he could never, ever give her. She deserved so much more. Even if he tried, he knew that in the end he couldn’t deliver. It wasn’t in his DNA to be there for someone, or to promise not to let them down. He could never guarantee that he wouldn’t disappoint her. He couldn’t bear to do that.
So he needed to leave here. He needed to leave her. And he needed to leave now.
Merle didn’t know what had changed in Ash’s thinking, or why. All she knew was that he was restless and angry. The usual amusement—even sarcastic joking—had been snuffed from his eyes. Her tension built the longer he stayed away.
Anxiety made her want to hide. To slip back to the shadows and stay safe. But she fought it. She wouldn’t retreat into those old habits.
He didn’t join her for breakfast, so she ate alone. She went for a quick swim, splashing a little extra-loudly, but he didn’t appear. He didn’t invite her for a ride on the boat or challenge her to a game. Two hours passed excruciatingly slowly. In the end, she decided to catalogue some effects in the study because she didn’t know what else to do. The loss of time pressed like a sharp blade against the sensitive, thin skin of her neck—the sense of danger, of desperation tightened. Tomorrow would be Sunday—a full week since their bargain. Which meant he was due to leave. So this was their last day together. Shouldn’t it be good—couldn’t they forget that ticking clock for just a little longer?
Despite the warmth of the sun beating onto the deck, she felt chilled to the bone. Seconds staggered by slower than a sloth crossing a stretch of forest floor. Something was wrong. He’d gone from being open—being vulnerable—to being both physically and emotionally remote. It devastated her. Because last night they’d made love. She’d known the difference. There’d been an unspoken but deep empathy—that caring, that tenderness in their touch. She’d embraced him, showing her understanding, wanting him to know she understood, that she was here for him. Accepted him as he was. It hadn’t just been fun, hadn’t just been pleasurable. He’d held her and she’d held him back. Hadn’t that meant something?
Was it his departure that was bothering him now? Was he too wondering whether this situation—this time between them—could be extended? Maybe he might even consider coming back for another visit while she was still working here?
No. It wasn’t important enough for him to even think about. He was working through the agony of his history here.
‘Merle?’
That bubble of hope rose from her belly into the tightness in her chest—pushing for breathing space.
‘I’m in the study,’ she called.
But she followed the direction of his voice and stepped out through one of the glass doors, onto the deck by the pool. The second she saw him that bubble got stuck—instant ice stopping its upward float. Ash was dressed, actually dressed, in dark denim jeans and a creaseless grey tee that hugged his hewn body. But it
