Page 78 of Pull Me Under

‘Brynn—’

‘Don’t.’ She holds up a hand. ‘Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer. Not tonight. I just need to not feel like I’m drowning in my father’s secrets.’

Secrets. Plural.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘We don’t have to talk about it.’

‘Good.’

‘But you should know – whatever happened between our families, I don’t carry his grudges. I never have.’

The air between us shifts. Charges. We’re standing too close again. I can see the pulse in her throat, the slight parting of her lips.

‘Jude.’ My name, low and warning.

‘Brynn.’

‘This is a bad idea.’

‘I know.’

‘We’re colleagues.’

‘I remember.’

‘And our families – whatever’s between them.’ She huffs out a laugh that scrapes like sand on skin. ‘Your dad really hates the Trelawneys.’

‘I know.’ I push my fingers through my hair. ‘And I have no idea why. Not really. Not the truth of it.’

She takes a deep breath and I find myself holding mine with hers.

We’re inches apart. I can feel the warmth of her breath, imagine I can see the stars reflected in her eyes, even though they are covered by dense cloud and I’m sure I’m losing my goddamn mind. Then she steps back, and cold air rushes through me.

‘I can’t,’ she says.

‘Can’t what?’

‘I can’t let this happen.’ But she doesn’t walk away. ‘Whatever this is between us – it’s going to end badly. I can feel it. We’re standing on a fault line, Jude, and when it cracks⁠—’

‘Maybe it won’t crack.’

‘It will.’ She reaches up, and for a moment I think she’s going to touch my face. My whole body goes still. But her hand stops an inch from my cheek and drops back to her side.

‘Go home, Jude,’ she says softly.

The echo of my own words from Thursday. Go home, Trelawney. She’s throwing them back at me, and it hurts more than it should.

I don’t follow. Can’t. My feet are rooted to the cobblestones.

I watch until she disappears around the corner towards the shed, and then I stand there alone, listening to the waves slap against the harbour wall.

I walk home in the dark, and think about Brynn’s hand stopping an inch from my face. The way she looked at me.

Go home, Jude.

I’m home. I’ve been home my whole life.

Maybe that’s the problem.