Losing Control

‘YOU WERE REALLY impressive tonight.’

He’s sitting on one side of the car, me on the other, and his voice is filling the space between us and drawing me in. I want to scoot over, curl up against him and rest my head on his shoulder. I want to close my eyes and empty my head.

It’s what I would have done years ago. It’s what I would do now if there weren’t this chasm of hurt between us.

‘Thank you.’

I keep my eyes on the window, my hands clenched in my lap. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m wary of the admiration warming his voice, the admiration that’s shone in his gaze all evening.

I can almost forget the fact that he ran from me hours before. That pain, that anguish, so obvious in his face.

Maybe this is a foolish idea.

What do I hope to achieve by going back to his place?

Do I think that he’ll open up, tell me how he’s truly feeling, and we can go some way to repair the damage of the past? Am I hoping this will be my chance to tell him the truth? Get it all out in the open and face whatever comes my way? Whatever I deserve? Am I really ready for that?

I wet my lips and ask, ‘How far is it to your place?’

‘Ten minutes.’

I nod. I can still change my mind. Ask that he take me home.

I grip my fingers together tightly. No. Get it done now, before too much time passes.

Too much time with him back in my life. Too much time when I’ve had the opportunity to be honest and haven’t been.

Because, let’s face it, I could have told him the truth years ago. Once I knew how to reach him I could have tracked him down, made him listen and dealt with it head-on. When Liam and Robert were still alive...when there was a chance for him to make amends.

Oh, my God. The realisation hits me like a slug to the stomach, the air leaving my lungs on a rush and my eyes tearing up. It’s my fault it’s too late. Mine.

‘Lexi?’

I hear the frown in his voice.

‘Are you feeling okay?’

‘Yes.’

My lie is obvious in the pained whisper, but he doesn’t press, and I stare unseeing at the passing world outside, knowing that this is it. It’s time to tell him everything. He deserves the truth. I owe it to him and I owe it to Liam. I owe it to Rose, too. Her father should know she existed—still exists as a part of me, of us.

He doesn’t talk again and I’m grateful. My nerves are shot, my head and heart a mess. All he needs do is ask if I’ve changed my mind and I’ll be going home instead.

But then I’d be the one running.

And I refuse to run.

* * *

I’m nervous.

It’s a weird state of mind.

After everything we’ve achieved these past two weeks I should be used to her, to this, to the whole chaotic lot. But this is different. This is my home. The home whose existence I only recently disclosed to Mum, and she was stunned.

No surprise, really, since it took almost a year to build and was completed well before the plane crash. It’s helped convince her I was serious about returning, and I guess it’ll do the same for Lexi.

‘So, you had this built?’