by K. A. Hobbs
“Hey, there’s no need for tears We’ve all been there, right?” I say, taking a seat next to her.
“You’ve been… here?” she mutters sceptically, wafting her arms over her now covered form and scowling, though I’m pretty sure it’s aimed at herself and not me.
“I’ll be honest. I’ve not been exactly here, but there was one time when all the girls I danced with decided to go for a full body wax before a show. There were a lot of vaginas out that day, I can tell you.”
“Dancers are weird,” she mutters, still clinging onto the duvet with a death grip.
“Dancers are weird? Molly, have you looked at you? You’re, well, kind of blue. What happened?”
She looks up at me briefly before staring longingly at the bathroom door. “The Atlantic Ocean in the middle of winter happened.” She shrugs, as though that explanation covers everything I need to know.
“I don’t understand? Can you please explain?”
“Neither do I. Analyse that,” she says quietly with a slight edge to her voice that gives me hope that feisty Molly is still in there somewhere.
“You don’t get off that lightly, Molly. Not this time. Do you know what I was doing when Seb. Astian phoned and started screeching at me down the line?”
She shrugs, her expression morphing into guilt as her eyes meet and hold mine. “He yelled at you?”
“Yelled, screeched, whichever word you’d prefer. Yes. But that’s not important. Guess. Guess what I was doing?” I sit back on the bed and peer at her, waiting for her to guess what she interrupted.
She looks down at the duvet wrapped around her, pulling it in tighter when her teeth start to chatter. “Can we save the guessing games for after the shower?”
I roll my eyes. “No, we can’t. I was going to have dinner with George later. In the conservatory where, I happen to know, he plans to place vase upon vase of peonies, and cover every surface with candles. We were going to have dinner and dance under the stars, and then Sebby phones and ruins it. So you’re going to have to make that up to me by explaining to me what the hell happened, Moll. Why are you blue, what do you mean about the Atlantic Ocean, and why on earth are you naked?”
Guilt turns to outright agony in her eyes before she shuts them, closing herself off to scrutiny as her entire body joins the shaking of her teeth. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I never thought that he’d… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just had to get out. I needed my ocean.”
“You’re making no sense. Did you freeze your brain cells off?” I jump off the bed and look down on her. “I’m going downstairs to get the tea. Get your freakishly blue arse into the shower and when you’re clean and pink again, we’re talking about all of this, including why Seb. Astian is currently in your lounge and you’re starkers.”
She nods silently with a look of abject resignation on her face, unmoving but for her eyes that sweep in the general direction of the bathroom as though she’s working up the energy to move.
I kneel down in front of her and push the straggly hair off her face. “I’ve missed you, Molly. I’m sorry I had to leave, but I’m here now, and I’m going to help you.”
I stand and press a kiss to her forehead before leaving her bedroom and walking down the stairs and into the kitchen. When I step into the room, two pairs of eyes flash to mine.
“Imogen,” George begins, stepping forward. “How is she?” he asks.
“She’s… cold. I need tea while she has a shower then we’re going to talk.”
Green eyes glare at me through narrowed lids as Sebastian sits forward, slamming his hands down on the counter with a ferocity I wouldn’t have believed the usually placid man capable of.
“You’d be cold, too, if you’d plunged yourself into the sodding ocean in the middle of winter,” he growls.
Yeah, he’s got it bad.
“Okay, easy there.” I smile. “We haven’t got to that part yet. You’re spoiling the story.”
“The story…” he repeats, his fingers curling against the marble top before he shoots out of his seat, his hands moving to clutch the back of his neck, his expression fuelled by anguish and anger. “You think this is funny? She could have died.”
My eyes flash to George who gives me a worried look. “No, I don’t find it funny. I just mean, she hasn’t told me that yet. She hasn’t told me anything. I don’t know what’s been going on here.”
“No, well she doesn’t, does she? She finds it preferable to store up all the things that hurt her inside that ridiculously fragile heart of hers and then let it all fester there until something has to give. And then she leaves her bed in the middle of the night to go for a goddamn moonlit swim in subzero waters because she has absolutely no concept of how to deal with anything she feels in a healthy way.” His voice starts off as a growl, anger shredding every word that spits from his tongue, but gradually, fury simmers into pain, and pain into fear.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been here trying to make her better? You think I don’t bloody know my best friend?” I growl at him. “Don’t try to tell me what my best friend does to deal with things. You must have done something, Sebastian. She was getting better. What have you done to my friend?”
“Loved her,” he breathes, all traces of anger gone, leaving behind only pain and despair. His body falls into the stool he just vacated, his hands scrubbing furiously at his face as his voice cracks. “I fucking loved her is what I did.”
His confession takes me by surprise, the rawness of it making my hands shake. George spots it and walks over to me, wrapping one arm around me, but I shake him off and go over to where Seb sits deflating in front of me.
“You love her?” I whisper. “Does she… Does she know that?”
He shrugs. “Lord knows I’ve done my best to show it, but the words? No. She’s more skittish than a newborn kitten. Even just… what we did was enough to send her spiralling into a tailspin of self loathing.”
What we did.
It dawns on me then how stupid I’ve been. Of course. It’s the only thing that could cause this amount of pain and regret for her. It’s the only thing that could cause her to break apart so quickly.
“You slept together.”
His eyes lift to mine momentarily before casting away, shame firing from them like bullets. “I wasn’t expecting it to be too much for her.”
I reach out a hand and place it on his shoulder. “Everything is too much for her. She can’t deal with anything logically because she’s still in so much pain. But she’s getting there. Don’t give up on her. She’ll push and push, but she only wants you to push back, to fight for her, to show her that you’re not going to leave her, that you’ll be there no matter what she does.”
“Are you all done discussing me now or should I go back to the shower?” Molly’s voice is scratchy and faint, but there’s no mistaking the irritation deeply rooted in her words. She’s standing in the doorway, freshly dressed in more leggings and a huge jumper that could easily fit two of her inside. Her hair is still wet but her lips finally have some colour and her skin is no longer tinged with the blue of hypothermia.
“Don’t you even start that,” I tell her, not in the mood to tolerate her sassiness right now. “Yes, we’re talking about you, but you need to be spoken about. Are you forgetting that everyone in this room cares about you? Are you so caught up in your head that you’ve completely forgot you have people who love you?”
She doesn’t appear to have a response to that. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment before she tugs it into her mouth, glancing at Sebastian who is still sitting in place, looking at her as though he’s terrified to even move in case it breaks her into more pieces.
“How are you feeling, Molly?” he asks formally, his lips pursed and serious.
Her glance twitches between me and him as though she’s weighing up which of us she’s more comfortable answering. It appears to be a no brainer.
“I’m okay,” she
whispers, her hands disappearing inside her long, baggy sleeves and wrapping around her middle protectively.
It’s clear something more has happened between them. The air is thick with tension that practically shimmers in the air, but neither of them will voice it.
George clears his throat and Molly’s startled eyes flash to him. Clearly in her daze she hadn’t noticed him standing there silently the whole time. “How about Sebastian and I go out and get some things for breakfast while you two ladies have a talk?” he suggests, his soothing voice having an almost instantaneous calming effect on the situation.
“Good idea,” Sebastian replies, a little too eagerly for my liking. I see the way his keenness to escape the situation makes Molly’s shoulders curl and her small frown deepen. Once I’ve got the truth out of her, the two of them need to talk.
“Get bacon,” I tell George while grinning at Molly.
Her lips manage a slight twitch, which gives me hope that she’s still in there somewhere. “And Frazzles,” she adds with a small smirk.
I can’t help the smile that escapes as my feet carry me over to her. I wrap my arm around her and kiss her temple. “Cookies will also be gratefully received, I think. And don’t feel the need to rush back.”
With a slight flourish and a big grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, Sebastian reaches for a cupboard door and flings it open. Inside the space I’ve only ever seen empty before, stacked up in neat lines, are way too many packets of Fox’s cookies to count. “Already got that covered. Go nuts,” he says, grabbing a packet and throwing them to me with a small wink.
He stalks across the room purposefully, stopping beside Molly and brushing her cheek with his lips before moving on to me, murmuring quietly in my ear. “Look after her.”
“You have my word,” I tell him. “Look after him for me, too.” I nod in George’s direction.
“Consider it done.” He nods curtly then leaves the room, but he doesn’t take that awful tension with him. It lingers behind in Molly’s stiff posture and wary expression.
Knowing she won’t talk unless I make her, I usher her over to the counter and sit her on the stool. “We need tea. And then you’re going to tell me how long you’ve been struggling with your feelings for Seb. Astian, okay?”
Her wool covered hands fiddle anxiously on the countertop, her gaze fixed on them as though they’re the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen. “I guess… since the art shop?”
“That long, huh?” I call over my shoulder as I pour the hot water into two giant mugs. “And things progressed too fast? Or was this whole episode inevitable, really?”
“This should never have happened. None of this should have happened.” Her arms wave around her head manically, and I can’t help wondering whether she’s talking about her relationship with Sebastian or the mess she’s dealing with inside her own mind.
I walk over and take a seat next to her, placing one cup directly in front of her and opening the cookies. I hold them out until she takes one and then I take one, too. “Molly, I’ve never told you this, but I know what fills that beautiful mind with sadness. I know about Ben. I know about everything,” I say softly, not wanting to cause her more pain but knowing the time has come for me to be as honest as I can be with her.
The slight catch of her breath on an inhale is the only outward sign that she’s heard me at first. She just stares at her hands on the marble, as though she’s willing a hole to appear for her to disappear into. I can’t say I blame her. A rabbit hole to Wonderland would be really nice about now.
Eventually, her fingers stretch out from their thick woollen prison and sit softly on the cool surface as she drags in a deep breath. “I betrayed him. I broke everything and then I just… God, what sort of person does that even make me?”
“A real one? One who has lived with so much pain for so long and one who found someone who makes them feel alive again? Molly, I can’t pretend to understand how you feel. I can’t pretend I know Ben or how he would feel, but I can’t imagine any man you loved, who loved you, would want this kind of life for you. He’d want you to find happiness, find peace, find love again. I’m sure of it.”
Her fingernails turn white as she presses them hard into the counter, a look of pained determination on her face as she refuses to meet my eyes. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
I reach for her hand on the counter and squeeze her fingers. “I know you think that, Moll. I know you do. But you’re not guilty of anything other than loving the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Life is cruel, and it can be taken away in a blink of an eye. That I do know.” I laugh sadly. “But sooner or later you have to realise you’re not to blame, okay?”
“He told you,” she breathes, mortification in her eyes. “He hates me, Immy. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
“You foolish girl. He does not hate you.” I tug her face so she’s looking at me. “He’s bloody in love with you.”
She tries to wrench her head away but I hold it fast, forcing her to meet my determined stare so that she can see the absolute truth shining from me. Her eyes close, then open again.
Open.
Closed.
Open.
Closed.
And when she finally opens them again, there are tiny pearly tears resting on her eyelashes, just waiting for permission to fall.
Her breaths are uneven and ragged, but still I don’t let go.
She blinks and the tears fall, winding their way slowly down her cheeks, but I don’t let go.
Her shaking fingers tug at a loose thread on her jumper, threatening to unwind the whole thing, but I still don’t let go.
Finally, when all her fidgeting is spent and her eyes are still forcibly locked with mine, she lets out a shuddering sigh, blinking slowly, and whispering, “I think I’m in love with him, too.”
“Finally caught on, have you?” I smile encouragingly at her.
“But it’s too soon.”
“There isn’t a timeframe for these things. The heart chooses who it chooses, when it chooses them. It’s only too soon if your heart tells you it is. I think your heart is telling you you’re in love with the good doctor and you’re scared. Forget about the opinions of people who don’t deserve your time, Molly.”
She sniffs. “You sound like my mum. Listen to your heart, not the gossip mongers, she always says.”
“She sounds like a wise woman. She has to be; she successfully raised my best friend.” I knock my shoulder with hers and she sniffs again. “It’s okay to feel again. In fact you have to. You’ve been torturing yourself, letting yourself die inside. It’s time to set the joy free. It’s time to allow yourself to fly free again.”
She nods a little uncertaintly, but I’ll take it. Then she takes a small bite from her biscuit and crunches it quietly before clearing her throat. “You should come meet my mum. I haven’t been a very good daughter lately.” She winces. “I haven’t been a very good anything lately. I haven’t even seen her since the awkwardness that was Boxing Day.”
‘I haven’t been great either. Will I be forgiven if I tell you some gossip?” I whisper then bite into my cookie.
“There’s nothing to forgive but tell me anyway.” She smiles, and it finally begins to melt the frosty wall around her irises that she’s been using to hold people at bay for too long.
“Remember the tall, dark, gorgeous man who was here like, fifteen minutes ago?”
“You mean the one we’re going to agree to pretend didn’t see me naked? Yeah, I remember him.”
“Don’t stress it. You have a good butt, and for someone who barely gets out of bed, you’re well groomed and tidy,” I tease her. “Well… he’s as gorgeous out of his clothes as he is in them.” I smirk.
She blinks and stares at me for a moment, confusion swirling in her expression before she catches up. “I knew it!” she squeals, jumping out of her seat with more animation than I think I’ve ever seen from her. “I told you. I to
ld you.” Her victory dance is a little over the top but I’m so happy to see her with some life in her that I let her awful moves pass. For now.
“You told me? Told me what? That he looks like an adonis naked? Or that he’s the best kisser in the universe? Or that he’s incredibly sexy when he’s on his horse?” I drift off into a daydream of images and only snap out of them when she slaps my arm.
“None of those things. And eww by the way. There is such a thing as too much information.”
“Too much information?” I scoff. “Please, that’s nothing. I haven’t shared with you how it drives him crazy when I—”
“Don’t,” she growls, slapping her hand over my mouth. “God, I forgot how disgusting you are.”
I kiss her hand and she pulls it away, disgusted.
“Missed me, haven’t you? Admit it.”
“Yeah, well if you have toothache for long enough, you miss it when it’s gone,” she chirps.
“Toothache?” I glare at her. “You’re comparing me to bloody toothache? You’re harsh you know, hermit? You’re breaking my heart.”
“Just keeping it real.” She grins, a sight I’ve missed more than I can say. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Friends are also for discussing our sex lives, and getting tips and pointers. Got any of those? Or, you know, details on what Seb. Astian is like between the sheets?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she groans.
I watch as guilt flashes momentarily in her eyes before she shoves it down. It’s clear that while the message may have sunk in to an extent, her natural propensity for skipping the positives and heading straight for guilt is going to take some time to pass.
“Well…” She looks thoughtful for a moment in a way that doesn’t fill me with confidence. Her eyes glimmer with amusement as she stretches her arms out in front of her, cracking her wrists from side to side before turning an evil grin on me. “You see that spot where you’re sitting?”
