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Mick looked faintly amused for a second.
“Like father, like daughter,” he said inexplicably and then squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I can safely promise that nobody set foot in the cells.”
“Why do I feel like there are volumes to be read between each word in that promise?” Sophy sighed. “You know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know. As long as my dad’s not in imminent danger of arrest.”
“Not unless things took a dramatic turn after I left him alone with Sean.” He intercepted her appalled look. “If they don’t show up in the next hour, I’ll check in and make sure everyone’s still free and functioning.”
“Sean?” Sophy shook her head. “I really don’t want to know.”
“He’s angry on your behalf,” Mick said, and all humour had faded from his voice. “We’re all angry on your behalf.”
She looked down at her bitten nail, playing with a peeling flake of pink polish. The sun was still beaming intensely across her bedcovers and the pain pills were starting to dissolve in her stomach, casting the very edges of her awareness into a faintly spongy marshmallow sensation. She felt quite relaxed, all things considered, quite surprisingly positive, and the ugliness of the previous day was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But there were parts that needed to be discussed and explained. Things that needed to be forgiven.
“Mick, I’m so sorry,” she said, unable to meet his gaze, pulling hard at a loose thread in the quilt. “That I…shut down. That I pushed you away like that. I wasn’t thinking about what you needed. And I think that you needed to help me.”
“Sophy.” He cupped her jaw, waited until her eyes rose reluctantly. “You have nothing to apologise for. After what happened, you needed to be able to deal in whatever way worked best at the time. I had no business laying all that on you at that time. It was bloody selfish.” He looked uncomfortable. Streaks of red slashed up his cheekbones. “I just – I didn’t want to lose you. I panicked.”
It crossed her mind that if that had been Mick panicking, he even lost his cool with an air of capable stoicism.
“I still shouldn’t have run,” Sophy said, also flushing. “Because I was running. I wasn’t just freaked out because of what happened at the bar. I was just…escaping to what seemed safe, instead of accepting what I…what I want.”
There was a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“And what’s that?”
She swallowed hard, managed a slightly misty smile, held onto his fingers like he was all that stood between her and a precipice.
“You,” she said simply, and if it was the drugs that were giving her the courage to speak her mind, openly and seriously, she supposed she could only be thankful. “I want to be with you. I don’t know quite what that will look like or how it will work, but I want you. I want…I want us.”
He held both her trembling hands between his own large, steady ones.
“I meant what I said, Sophy.” Pure, undiluted relief was beginning to touch his eyes, deepen the lines at their corners, soften the harsher grooves around his mouth. “I love you. In a way that I never expected to love anyone.” He gave her fingers a quick shake. “I’m not going to crowd you,” he said firmly. “I understand the need for space.” His mouth twisted ruefully. “I might be a bit overprotective at times.”
“No,” she teased through a film of tears. “You? Mister “Don’t you think you should carry a third inhaler in case the first two accidentally explode?” I never would have guessed.”
“Don’t be cheeky,” he said, grinning. He tugged her face closer to his. “I’ll try not to be an overbearing prick about it,” he said against her lips. “If I’m getting on your wick, you can just tell me, you know. I was career Army. I can take direction.”
Sophy huffed a laugh through her nose, her mouth being otherwise occupied.
“I’ll risk it,” she said as they parted to breathe. It was a light-hearted parroting of his earlier phrase, but she recognised the truth of the sentiment deep in her gut. She would risk it – and she would bet high stakes that she wouldn’t regret it. Her elbows were loosely linked at the back of his neck, her fingers dangling against the top of his spine. She held his gaze bravely. “I love you such a lot,” she said, and her voice was a husky whisper.
He closed his eyes briefly, but not before she saw the intensity of his response. It was humbling, almost frightening.
“It won’t always be easy,” she felt compelled to warn him. “I can be absolutely awful.”
He snorted, and she glared at him.
“We’ll argue. Possibly right now, in fact.”
“What, argue with such a conformist, humourless, biddable person as you? Never.” Mick punctuated the likelihood of such future arguments by tweaking her on the nose and receiving an irritable poke in response. “If you’re going to pinch at me like that, at least take it in a more interesting direction,” he added, with a mock leer that made Sophy laugh as she soaked up his happiness.
“Don’t proposition a sick person,” she said primly. “It’s tacky.”
Caught by his playful mood, she tightened her hold on his neck and smiled into his eyes.
“I love you,” she said again, still revelling in the fact that she could say it, could feel it so strongly. His hard features had never looked more open and revealing, his defences temporarily down. “So, so much. I never... I never expected…” She stumbled over the words, wanting to express herself properly, never quite able to translate the thought into the verbal. “It’s like you’re a…a gift,” she said at last, and didn’t even feel silly. “And I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
His kiss was hard and urgent, communicating his own feelings, his own gratitude, far more effectively than her fumbled speech. His hands were unsteady against her throat, cupping her shoulders, delving into her hair.
