Inconsolable by Ainslie Paton Page A

ached to hear her scrambling away.
    â€œDrum, please come away from the edge.”
    He closed his eyes and softened his knees. He’d hurt her when he’d been trying not to. Why did she keep coming to him? Why did she make it so hard?
    â€œI promise. I promise I won’t ever come back if you step away from the edge.”
    The wind scoured his skin, but didn’t rub the filth of him away.
    â€œI didn’t mean to break my promise. I didn’t mean to. I want you to be safe. Please come away from the edge. You didn’t hurt me. I’ll go when you come away from the edge. Please, Drum, please, please, please come away.”
    Her voice wrapped around him and held him steady. She should be gone. He should be alone.
    â€œPlease Drum, please.”
    She was frightened. And so was he, frightened of what she made him feel, of how much he wanted to hear her voice, see her smile, touch her skin and have the life of her close to him. He took a step back from the edge.
    Her breathing was all broken up, choppy like the sea. He took another step back and another and another, then turned to face her. Her shoes were off, her sunglasses, her hand was over her mouth and she shook like the wind was inside her.
    What could he say? What would she understand? He took a step towards her and she nodded, turned to pick up her shoes.
    â€œStop.” He put his hand out. He no longer wanted her to go. He needed to explain.
    She straightened up but kept her eyes down. She was ready to run, her shoes in her hand. His reality was bad enough; he couldn’t send her off with nightmares.
    â€œI would never jump. I would never kill myself. That’s too easy. You don’t need to worry about me. You need to stay away.”
    She sobbed aloud, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were shocked into hard marbles, glistening wet and fixed on him.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Useless words. He’d said them so often and they’d never mattered, but he didn’t have any better. “I’m bad news for you. But I won’t hurt myself.”
    She heaved a breath. “I don’t believe you.”
    He took another step away from the edge, closer to her. He could smell sweet white flowers; her perfume. He lifted his hand to her, wanting to take the fear away, not knowing how, but she reached her hand out too and their fingers brushed, then her hand was in his, like that one time before but different too, because this time she truly knew to fear him and still she touched him.
    And he couldn’t take it. It mattered that he’d scared her. It mattered that she was here. He closed his hand around hers and stepped closer. She dropped her shoes. He watched as her breath settled as she blinked slow, squeezed her eyes to stop them tearing up.
    â€œI am sorry, Foley.”
    She lifted her chin, her hand squeezed his. “If you ever do that again I’ll …” She was so fierce, but she knew she had nothing to threaten him with. She launched herself at him, slapping his chest and arm. “You fucking scared me. You fucking great shit of a man. I thought you were going to jump and it would be my fault.”
    He let her hit him, shake him, his arms at his sides, until she exhausted herself, one hand resting on his chest. “I have never been so scared in my whole life. I nearly wet myself.”
    If he’d been a better man he’d have known how to soothe her, known how to hold her. She was so slight, so small compared to him, but she was stronger, so much stronger. When she broke away he thought he might fall. “I’m sorry.”
    She lifted her face. “Can we sit? I need to sit for a minute. My legs are made of wobble.”
    He let her go. The longer he had her, the harder it would be. He took off his shirt, wet but the driest thing he owned, and wiped the couch down, made a place for her. She sat beside him, and they both faced out at the ocean. She should want