Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,57

lying.

And you told her for honesty’s sake? What a joke. You told her to speed up a process that should’ve been at her pace.

Evan thrust a pillow over his head as if that would silence the warring opinions in his skull. None of it mattered. He would apologise to her—he had to—but it seemed better to give her space first. So that’s what he’d do.

Eventually, he almost managed to drift off to sleep. So of course, a booming thud sounded through the wall and woke him right up.

His tired brain leapt into wakefulness immediately, because old habits died hard. Evan was out of bed with his ear pressed to the wall in seconds. After that enormous crash, louder than any he’d heard from Ruth’s flat, there came nothing but silence.

He held his breath for a moment before giving in to the twist of worry in his gut. “Ruth?” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing in the world would ever sound as good as Ruth shouting back. “Of course I can hear you.”

Despite his concern, and his confusion, and the fact that words from Ruth were as painful as they were perfect right now, he chuckled. “So you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she called back. And then, after a beat, she added, “Thank you.”

Evan raised his brows at the wall.

“How are you?” she continued.

And now he was worried again. “Did you hit your head?”

“You know,” she called, “that’s not the first time you’ve asked me that.”

“But did you?”

“No. I’m simply making conversation.”

“Through a wall in the middle of the night?”

“You started it,” she pointed out. And then she said, not exactly quietly, since they were shouting, but hesitantly… “If you come over, we could make conversation without the wall.”

It was probably pathetic, how his heart leapt at that. It was definitely pathetic how quickly he threw a pair of tracksuit bottoms over his nudity and called, “On my way.”

He didn’t care.

Ruth opened her door just as quickly as he opened his, and that bolstered Evan’s resolve. She wanted to see him. He knew it, and yet he wasn’t completely sure until they were face to face. She stood in the doorway and he stood on her doormat.

He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t mean to, and it was selfish, and I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m sorry.” Huh. He was babbling. He’d never babbled before. But this apology had been trying to burst from his lips for two days, and he found that being at odds with Ruth did not suit him. Not at all.

“Okay,” she said, and he relaxed. Because her lips were tilted in that almost-smile, the one he’d worried he might never see again. Then she said, “I’m sorry too.”

This was a night full of surprises.

Evan came in, trying not to focus on the door he’d leant against when she’d—well. “You are?”

“Yes. For waking you up.”

He bit his lip, felt a smile spread slowly over his face. “You didn’t wake me up.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. You didn’t. Still sorry?”

She shut the door behind them and stood there, fiddling with a loose thread at the end of her pyjamas. He saw the moment she steeled herself, saw the moment she straightened her spine and took a fortifying breath. “Yes. I’m still sorry.”

“Okay.” He studied her, drinking in everything he’d missed. Her wide, brown eyes, her lips and her too-big front teeth. But he kept his voice neutral as he said, “For what?”

“For the other day. I lost my temper and I said some things that just… aren’t true. I know you’re not a malicious person, and I’m sure you weren’t gossiping about me, and—and I ‘d like to talk. To you. About things.”

Evan tried to tamp down his optimism. It felt like trying to fight the dawning sun. “Things?”

Ruth nodded. “Things. I, um… I had decided to tell you, actually. To tell you everything. On Friday.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself. I had decided to tell you. And he’d fucked it up and taken away that choice—or attempted to.

“Really?” he managed.

“Really. And I shouldn’t have gotten so angry—”

“There’s no should or shouldn’t when it comes to anger.” He wanted to touch her, purely because she looked so stiff and alone standing before him. But he rather thought she should make the first move, break the imaginary barrier. “You feel how you feel and that’s fine. The important thing is talking through it.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I know that. I mean, I’m