Lorcan watched her, his heart heavy, his gaze tracing every inch of her face, committing it to memory. His head whirred with confusion.
Going back to England felt, in a strange way, like leaving reality and going back to a shadow world, although it should have been the other way around.
London was where his work was, and his work had both supplied a reason to keep moving forward and kept him sane.
But in Ireland he'd found something even more satisfying.
Friendship.
Love.
Red-hot desire.
There, he'd had Indra mostly to himself, and although they'd exchanged only that one mind-blowing kiss on the Sky Road, he was hard-pressed to imagine life going forward without her.
They were on the cusp of going back to their separate lives, probably only seeing each other periodically at work. Or, at best, being casual friends who'd meet up for a curry or a drink at the pub.
Was that enough for him?
No.
But the fear he'd harbored for so long refused to let go.
His marriage to Mae hadn't just been a disaster. It had taken years to admit he'd been battered—emotionally—and to recognize the lingering effects. The withdrawal from family and friends. Holding everyone at arm's length out of fear of falling back into another situation where he would lose all sense of self.
With Indra he'd felt it lifting, but he still wasn't sure he was ready to love again. Not when he knew, without a doubt, what pain loving someone could bring.
The damage it could do.
So, although the words he thought on the cliffs were still true, they were also securely locked in his chest. And when he and Indra eventually made it back to London, he parted from her with just a light kiss on the cheek.
Walking away had never felt harder, but somehow, he did it.
*
It took him only a month to realize he'd have to take a chance on telling her the truth or quietly lose his mind. Seeing her around the hospital, even just hearing her name, made his heart race and ache at the same time. His nights were disturbed by memories featuring Indra's smile, her voice, and scent and lips—the sensation of holding her close.
The fantasy of making love to her. Of making her his own.
He'd always been the type who needed things clear-cut so he could make his decisions based on facts rather than supposition. Until she told him she would never be interested in him, it would be impossible to move on.
So, he called and asked if he could come by for a word one evening. It was getting close to Christmas, and with no guarantee she'd be available, it was a relief to hear her say "Sure. Everything alright?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to say no—that he was dying from wanting her—but instead he said, "Yes. It's nothing dire. I'll bring supper."
"I actually have a day off tomorrow, so come by then and I'll make dinner."
Funny how, when he had something to look forward to, the day seemed immeasurably brighter.
The next evening, though, the nerves all came back. Knowing he was about to put himself on the line again made his stomach clench as he climbed the stairs to Indra's floor.
Once in the hallway, raised voices drowned out the holiday music trickling into the hall, and Lorcan quickly realized they were coming from Indra's flat. His heart in his throat, he rang the bell and, getting no response, used the palm of his hand to bang on the door.
It flew open, revealing a short, stocky man with a red face and flashing dark eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
Before Lorcan could reply, Indra was there, reaching out, grabbing his hand. Hers was icy-cold and trembling.
"This is my boyfriend, Dad."
Instinctively Lorcan pulled Indra close, looping an arm around her shoulder. Her entire body was vibrating, so Lorcan held her tighter, elated she'd turned to him when she was afraid.
The other man's eyes narrowed, then he shouted into the flat. "Here's the nonexistent man, Kitty. What do you have to say now?"
A woman stepped into view, her hands on her hips and her chin tilted up at a pugnacious angle. The resemblance was so strong, Lorcan knew she was Indra's mother.
"I say you're still a fool, David Hughes, and you don't know nothing `bout your daughter. How could you, after you run off and leave us?"
"I never—"
"You're worthless—"
Indra's parents were cranking up again, and despite knowing it was none of his business, Lorcan was about to intervene when a bellowing shout split the air.
"Shut it!"
Who knew Indra had that kind of lung power? Loud enough to actually shock her parents into silence and induce a surge of admiration in Lorcan.
"Dad, Mum, I want you to leave." Indra's voice was cold and controlled.
When they both started talking at the same time, she shook her head and spoke over them. "I'd planned to introduce Lorcan to you, but I've changed my mind."
"But, Indra—"
She stopped whatever her father planned to say with a chop of her hand through the air.
"I'm tired of you two—the way you're constantly at each other and dragging me into your fights. You've gone too far this time, coming here, making a scene, embarrassing me. So, neither of you deserve the privilege of knowing him. Maybe I'll forgive you in five or ten years, but right now I'm sick to death of you and your drama. Just go."
Her mother huffed and, giving her daughter a baleful look, walked out the door. Indra's father seemed inclined to try to speak, but Indra shook her head firmly and pointed to the door. He slowly left, and as soon as he was out the door, Indra pulled away, leaving a cold spot on Lorcan's side.
"I think it best you go too, Lorcan."
Then she walked away, and all he could do was stare after her, at a loss as to what to do.
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