Then, remembering, perhaps a little too late, that her ribs were still healing, that her arm was encased in plaster, he eased off the accelerator.
“The cast comes off next week, right?” he asked, eyes fixed ahead.
“Yeah,” she replied, already feeling the heaviness of pain meds settling over her, pulling her under.
“I’ve arranged for a physio to come see you."
“God, not more torture,” she groaned, shifting in her seat, trying to get comfortable.
“You’ll thank me.”
“No, I won’t.”
He blew a breath out slowly, but then the corners of his mouth curved just barely. The car was quiet after that. The air between them was thick with too many unsaid words.
A game of emotional chicken. Who would speak first?
Faolan’s head lolled slightly. He had placed a pillow against the door, another tucked near her back. Her lids were getting heavier.
Then, haltingly, he asked, “Why…”
A pause. Then again, more carefully. “Why did you let me… I mean, why did you let me treat you like that…touch you like that?”
She didn’t answer or turn to look at him, but her shoulders tensed.
“I mean…you knew who I was. Didn’t you?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. How could she? “I did,” she murmured finally. “But I didn’t know which side you were on.”
That silenced him.
“But why did you let me?” he asked again, voice rough. “If you’d said no… If you’d just… I wish you had said no.”
She could hear it in him—the torment and guilt scratching beneath the surface like it was alive.
“Because I wanted to,” she whispered finally.
The words floated out before she could second-guess them. She had promised herself that she would give him honesty if she ever met him again.
“For the longest time, my life was all about survival. About forgetting what had happened to me…to us. Then, I grew up, and I wondered… I’ve wondered about you for so long,” she added. “About what it would feel like…to be with you. Every man turned into you. Every boyfriend had your eyes.”
He didn’t respond right away. The engine hummed steadily beneath them, and her breath was starting to slow again.
“I have, too. You can’t even imagine…” he said at last. “Only…not like that.”
A bruised silence prevailed.
She was fading now, eyelashes fluttering, when his voice stirred her again.
“Why did you tell me your name was Dorothy?”
She opened one eye.
“I’ve been searching for Dorothy for so long. I couldn’t believe you would leave me like that, without giving me a chance to make things right,” he added, quieter now. “We don’t even know who that body belonged to. We may never know. But I knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be…”
She sighed, the sound low and aching. “You know how things were in that hell,” she said. “I didn’t know if I could trust you. I didn’t want to be Faolan anymore. I just…”
“Wanted to be someone else?” he completed.
