Page 47 of Kiln Me Softly

Juniper had lied before. Her heart was absolutely not fine. In fact, it beat so rapidly that she wondered if she should be watching out for symptoms of cardiac arrest.

He loved her. She’d never stooped this low before, been broken this completely, but he loved her.

Even as she bent, teary-eyed, over the pieces of her tea set.

His warmth radiated against her side as, together, they tried to match up the pattern, like a jigsaw puzzle that would never quite be right.

And he loved her. What was she supposed to do with that?

He didn’t seem to expect her to do anything, his attention narrowed completely on her pottery.

She looked at the clock with heavy lids and wondered if this could wait, or if she even wanted to pick herself up and try again this time.

Aiden had made it clear that quitting wasn’t an option, but it wasn’t his decision.

‘We don’t need to do this now,’ she said finally.

‘It’s late, and things are weird, and…’ Well, that was it really.

She was completely overwhelmed and incapable of doing much, but he’d probably deduced that already, considering how he’d found her.

She didn’t even know how long she’d been hiding under Chris’s desk, only that workshop hours had officially closed hours ago.

‘If you want to go and get some rest, I can sort this out.’

‘Aiden.’ She rubbed her gritty eyes, pushing away from him to rest her top half over the desk. But for once, she couldn’t think of a protest. Not one she hadn’t already used, at least. Maybe she would just have to accept that she’d never really understand why he cared about her so much.

But she couldn’t just let him do this for her with the words she’d spat at him still hanging in the air between them. He deserved better than that, especially after he’d peeled her up off the floor and confessed a truth she still wasn’t prepared to face.

She put her hand over his, halting his work so he would listen.

He looked up at her expectantly, sucking his gums as though bracing for the worst. She couldn’t blame him for that.

‘I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day.

I was angry and hurt, and maybe a little bit embarrassed.

But you’ve never done anything to hurt me, not intentionally.

In fact, all you ever do is take care of me, and I don’t think I deserve it. ’

Tears glimmered on his waterline, Adam’s apple working as he tried to curate a response.

It was strange, how easily she could read him now.

How she knew that he was probably battling between two options: a dry joke or the truth, just like her.

How the tic of his jaw meant that something still bothered him.

How the crease between his brows only ever seemed to smooth when he was asleep or inside of her.

‘You had every right to be angry,’ he decided. ‘I don’t blame you for any of it.’

‘But I wasn’t just angry. I was mean, and I said things that I knew would hurt you.

Things I know aren’t true.’ She was too tired to stand anymore, so she grabbed the nearest chair and sat at the edge of the workbench with him.

‘When I told you that I see you, I meant it. You’re nothing like your dad, and even though you did the wrong thing, you did it because you thought it was right.

I’ve spent the last few days trying to convince myself otherwise, that you really are horrible and I was right to hate you, but I can’t, because it isn’t true.

You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Bloody hell, I don’t think anyone else would, either.

I know I’m a lot to handle, especially when I’m this much of a mess. ’

He placed his hand on top of hers, tracing the side of her thumb.

That alone gave her a little more strength, a little more comfort.

Maybe, tonight at least, she would just have to need him.

Just have to let him be there for her. ‘You keep me on my toes, Hodge, but you’re not a lot to handle.

Not at all. And I was telling the truth about Elmington.

I had no idea my dad would do that. It…’ He shook his head, voice growing thick.

‘Finding that out really fucked me up. It made me realise that he’ll never see me for what I am, and I’ll never be enough. ’

‘Not for him, maybe, but that’s his loss. You are enough, Aiden. You’re more than enough. You’re kinder and more talented than he’ll ever be.’

Aiden sniffed, one last attempt to stop the tears, but they came anyway, and this time she was there to catch them. Seeing him so vulnerable left her shaken and unsure, and she wished more than anything she hadn’t played a part in his hurt.

‘I, er, went to Manchester to see him,’ he admitted after clearing his throat, wiping his eyes. ‘I told him I couldn’t have anything to do with him anymore. I should never have gone to him for help. I should have distanced myself a long time ago. I guess some habits are just hard to break.’

‘Well, it’s never easy with parents. How did he take it?’

A shrug. ‘The way he takes everything. Without much empathy or care. I’d rather lose him than end up like him, though. I wonder how many friends I’ll have in a few years’ time, when he’s smeared my name through the dirt.’

‘They wouldn’t be friends worth having.’ Juniper couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair. ‘How did you even get him to agree to help, if he hates ceramics so much?’

Aiden lowered his eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter now.’

Juniper held her breath. If Aiden had been the one to pay for this unsolicited favour… ‘Aiden.’

He rubbed his face roughly. ‘He wanted me to work with him next summer.’

‘And you were going to?’ she sputtered.

A shrug. ‘If it meant getting to keep you here, yeah.’

She didn’t know what to say anymore. It was her who wasn’t enough, not against him.

Not when he’d nearly sacrificed his own wellbeing for her.

It was difficult not to sound angry when she demanded, ‘Don’t ever do that again.

Don’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to suffer for someone else. Not for me, not for anyone.’

He tilted his head. ‘What if I said you’re worth it?’

‘ Nothing is worth that. Not after what you went through at Elmington. Promise me.’

He didn’t, instead looking at her the way he had a few nights ago, when he’d almost told her that he loved her the first time. That wobbly smile was too intimate, too raw, and she wasn’t sure she deserved it.

Luckily, annoyingly, he changed the subject. ‘So. Let’s fix this. You ready?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘How, exactly, are we going to do it?’

‘There are a few methods.’ Aiden blinked away his tears and stood, heading towards the drawers of materials along the side wall.

His silhouette was the same as it had been that first time they’d thrown together, tall and broad agains t the night outside the window.

Only now, she could pinpoint all the things that made him him: the defiant curl, always sticking up on the crown of his head; the way one shoulder was always slightly higher than the other; the subtle arch of his spine from a life spent hunched over his paintings and pottery wheels.

She’d been right. He was hers, because she saw him, because she knew him – sometimes better than she knew her own body, her own mind.

‘It’s called kintsugi. Think it translates to golden joinery.

But it doesn’t have to be gold. We can use whatever we can find. ’

She tried to imagine how it would look, but it was difficult to see beyond all the broken parts. One thing was for sure: it wouldn’t be boring if she could pull it off. ‘Well, I do happen to know a place where there are a lot of broken ceramics.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Caffé Verde. Haven’t you heard? I was recently promoted to the role of chief pot dropper.’

He laughed, and all she could think was how she wanted to hear it again and again and again. To know that she’d been the one to cause it felt like being granted a second chance.

‘Well, I’m up for a little adventure if you are.’

‘Since I happen to have closed up tonight’ – she produced her golden key from the zip pocket of her bag – ‘I don’t see why not.’

It wasn’t as though she had anything else to lose, except for him, and she was beginning to think that, this time, she might do anything it took to keep him.

‘Nope!’ Juniper told the security alarm when it tried to blare out at her. She dashed inside quickly to shut it off, inputting the numbers in the wrong sequence a few times until she remembered the combination.

It was the first time London had felt peaceful to her, and she wasn’t sure if it had more to do with the ebbing evening or the fact that she had finally surrendered to her fears and insecurities. Either way, the floating dust motes and sepia shadows of Caffé Verde covered her like a blanket.

‘Wow. It turns out I quite like it here without Gianna and the customers.’ She examined a potted fern. ‘Was that always there?’

‘Yes,’ Aiden answered, and then he was close again, passing headlights dancing across his face.

Somehow, they always did seem to end up alone in the dark.

She tried to keep her focus on the task at hand: broken pots.

She hadn’t been exaggerating about her clumsiness earlier, and only hoped the bins hadn’t been taken out before she could salvage some of the pieces.

Thankfully, as she hopped without much grace over the counter and into the kitchen, she found the remnants of her earlier shift shining in against the bin liner. Aiden flicked on his phone torch, then his face crinkled. ‘Are you really going to put your hands in that?’

It was a bit minging. The coffee beans and teabags went into the bin for compostables, as well as the food, but somebody had clearly forgotten and dropped in a slice of tomato. Not her. That she could remember. Cake wrappers and old rags cushioned the ceramics, too.