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taken half a second to realise the primary reason for my anxiety. It was because Jensen wasn’t beside me. The secondary because the snow had stopped. I was torn right down the middle between
accepting that this wasn’t just a casual fling and grasping the out that Mother Nature was handing me.
The latter had diminished within seconds, leaving a searing sense of loss.
The weight of it had compelled me out of bed, the need to see Jensen driving me.
Only to come downstairs to this stomach-hollowing situation.
He gently massaged my muscles, intent on grounding me in the present when I wanted to flee both it
and the pain-ridden past.
And go where? Into a future filled with uncertainty? God, when had my future become so bleak?
When he knelt at your feet and gifted you with possibilities you knew you’d have to walk away
from.
The raw, soul-shaking admission turned my insides out even more than the last few minutes had.
My gaze lifted to the picture propped up above the fireplace. My breath caught; I barely recognised the woman in the photo.
He wanted to know when I’d last experienced that kind of...joy?
‘It was the last time I saw my mother before she left me for good.’
I wasn’t aware I’d spoken the words aloud until his fingers moved again, gliding up and down my
leg in silent reassurance.
But with the words out, I couldn’t hide any more. ‘I didn’t know it was the last time, of course. She was getting dressed to go to some function or other. I didn’t ask because I was so surprised she’d let me into her bedroom at all, never mind her dressing room. Both were strictly off-limits to every one of us. But that day was different. She was...strangely indulgent, didn’t berate me when I played dress up with the diamonds she’d expressly forbidden me from touching.’
‘How old were you?’
‘I’d turned nine a couple of days before.’ The recollection brought a small smile, my mother’s
presence at my ninth birthday a wonderful phenomenon in itself that’d made my small heart burst with joy, the belief that my fractured family was on its way to becoming whole again, a sacred conviction I’d nurtured for days. A wish I’d refused to let Gideon’s condescending sneers ruin. I’d later
discovered that he’d somehow known it was a foolish dream. My clever brother, perhaps the
cleverest one of us, had seen what was coming, used his trademark sarcasm and icy indifference to
safeguard himself against hurt. He’d known what was coming but had kept it to himself.
I hadn’t been so lucky...
Jensen’s hand wrapped around my ankle, infusing warmth into me, as if it would lessen the pain of
the recounting. Nothing could. But I appreciated the gesture.
‘I was tall for my age and my mother and I were of a similar build.’ We were more than that. My
mother had given birth to a near replica of herself, the only differences between us the hazel eyes inherited from the Mortimer gene and my black hair to her chestnut waves.
‘So she let you play with her stuff...’ Jensen coaxed.
‘Normally it took her hours to get ready. This time she took even longer. And I got to spend every