Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,56

what you’re up to, but I have to. And if you don’t blame me—”

“I don’t,” Ruth insisted, because she never had and never would.

“If you don’t blame me, then why are we so far apart?” Hannah’s words were whisper-soft. She gave a rueful twist of the lips that was almost a smile, holding up her hands as if to say, Answer that.

“Because I don’t deserve you.” It felt like a shout, but it came to Ruth’s own ears as a whisper. Across the room, Hannah froze. And Ruth forced herself to say the words again, properly this time. “I love you, and I don’t deserve you. Sometimes I can’t bear to look at you because I feel so guilty it chokes me.”

Hannah’s face crumpled. “That’s the last thing I ever wanted. You should never feel guilty, Ruth. Not ever.”

“I started this whole mess.”

“Daniel started this whole mess.” Hannah came forward, held out a hand. She was hesitant, Ruth could tell, but she was fearless too.

No; not fearless. Rather, she chose to spit in fear’s face.

Ruth caught her sister’s hand and released a locked-up truth. “I admire you more than anyone in the world.”

Hannah choked out a laugh that was perilously close to a sob. “I wish nursery managers around here were so open-minded.”

“Fuck that and fuck them.” Ruth pulled her sister into a hug. It felt immediately alien, and then, after a breath, wonderful. Like purest childhood reclaimed. She breathed in deep and felt her sister do the same. When they were young, very young, they’d talked about being twins. Imagined, and sometimes pretended, that they were. It had never been hard to convince people.

But, while they looked the same, they’d always been very different. Opposites, even.

Which was fine, Ruth realised. Good, in fact. Because identical puzzle pieces wouldn’t fit together like this.

25

The text came from Zach.

Everything okay with you?

Evan stared at the text blankly for a solid few minutes before they sunk into his tired brain.

It wasn’t especially late, but it was late enough for him to be lying in bed, wishing for sleep. He should be happy. He was happy, in a way. Shirley’s tests had returned, and her prognosis wasn’t quite as bad as doctors had initially feared.

To celebrate, Evan had attempted to make a fancy dessert from scratch; mille-feuille. Shirley had doubled over laughing at how awfully wrong it had gone, and then they’d all eaten the store-bought apple pie he’d brought along.

And he’d been happy. But, underneath the happiness, he’d still been regretful and hurt and confused and frustrated, and unsurprisingly, Zach had picked up on that. Evan was beginning to realise that Zach watched people more closely than he let on.

After a moment’s thought, Evan managed a reply that wasn’t quite false, but also wouldn’t worry a man with more than enough problems of his own.

Evan: Can’t complain

The phone beeped in reply, its display flashing bright in the dark.

Zach: Any trouble with Daniel?

None. Maybe the prospect of an actual fight had scared some sense into Daniel; he did seem fond of his pretty face. Or maybe Mr. Burne had said something to his son. Mr. Burne, who’d come out of Ruth’s flat as if it were nothing.

And truthfully, Evan still didn’t know why exactly. Every time he tried to figure it out, he felt both guilty and childishly furious. So he’d given up.

A familiar noise sounded through the thin, stud wall behind his headboard, and he froze in the middle of typing out a negative.

Ruth. Ruth was in her room.

He’d never really minded hearing Ruth bumble about all night; not until Friday. God, Friday. He’d had heaven within his reach, and then it had all gone sour. And now he minded.

He minded recognising the clumsy tread of her footsteps, and he minded that damned creak every time she got into bed. He minded the memory of her mouth on his cock because he couldn’t enjoy it when she wasn’t even talking to him, and he minded the fact that he was thinking about it now. That he’d thought about it every hour on the hour since the last time he’d seen her, and thought about her pain twice as often.

Swallowing down his feelings before they could choke him, Evan turned his attention back to the phone.

Evan: No more trouble. I’ll see you tomorrow.

He propped himself up on one elbow, opened his bedside drawer, and threw the phone in there. Then he settled down to get some sleep.

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

That would be