Sunshine Kisses

‘I’m fine. The shower helped.’ The cold, cold shower had done nothing for her muscles, but it had helped slow her heart rate. ‘Can you leave now so I can get dressed? You’re getting my bed all sweaty too.’

‘These sheets are very absorbent.’

How could he possibly know that? ‘That makes it worse, actually.’

He rolled back over and swung his legs off the bed with a sigh, pulling himself into a sitting position. ‘Am I allowed to open my eyes so I walk out safely?’

‘Fine.’

Grey eyes met hers before flicking quickly down her body and back up to her face. ‘That’s what you were freaking out about?’ He paused at the door connecting to his room and—in a voice that completely undid all the calming effects of her shower—said, ‘Your yoga outfit showed a lot more, Sunshine.’

Chapter 5

Worthy of You – Plested

D

inner that evening was quiet, with everyone relaxed from yoga in the morning and a spa treatment in the afternoon. Abby had never understood why the trip began with the most calming activities. Her young, responsibility-free brain had reasoned that it made more sense to end a holiday like that, and return to reality well-rested. But now, her world filled with deadlines and reading lists she would never see the end of, she finally got it. Even after vacating her life the previous afternoon, her brain had been swirling. Now, blissed out in a way that only a hot stone massage could achieve, she was ready to forget anything outside this hotel existed, and focus on living for each comfortable, wine-soaked moment. Because she’d quickly realised that family holidays were significantly more fun when you were old enough to get just the right amount of buzzed at each meal.

After three courses and a cheese board, Abby’s parents declared it time to retire for the evening, with Nora and Peter echoing their agreement.

‘Want that drink tonight?’ Erik murmured in Abby’s ear as they left the dining room. She nodded, allowing him to slip an arm around her shoulders and steer her towards the bar.

‘Don’t forget we have an eight o’clock tee time tomorrow,’ her father said, clapping Erik on the back as he passed them. ‘Can’t keep Abby up too late; you know she likes to sleep in.’

Erik’s arm tensed around her. His voice was light when he answered, but Abby could hear all the strain it took to keep it so. ‘I’ve always found her to be an excellent morning person. Night, everyone. We’ll both see you bright and early,’ he called over his shoulder, ushering her away faster.

‘Geez, you have one minor depressive episode where you can’t drag yourself out of bed for a few weeks and it brands you for life,’ Abby grumbled.

Erik’s thumb moved to the same spot on her neck he’d rubbed the night before. She no longer needed it—the massage had worked all her knots out—but it still felt heavenly. Tonight. Tonight she’d enjoy this. And if he got weird about their closeness again, she would confront it.

‘Do they even know? How bad it was? Did they ever realise why you got like that?’

It was on one of these holidays that Erik had convinced her to drop her science electives the following school year. They had been sitting quietly together when he gently brought up the dark circles under her eyes. The way her clothes had hung limply off her diminishing frame. Abby had been struggling in her chemistry class for ages. Had hated it even longer. But her parents had decided her career path the moment they knew she had been conceived. Their daughter would grow up to be a doctor, like them. She would work the same long hours. Miss countless dinners and school commitments when she started a family of her own one day.

It hadn’t mattered that she hated the idea of pursuing medicine. Studying it. Practising it. Looking after people she had no connection to.

Her parents had pushed her straight into their shadow, then left her to find her way in the darkness. And she had begun floundering.

Despite the tireless attempts at tutoring Erik made, science concepts simply could not stick in her brain. Ask her to compare and contrast themes and motifs in literature, and she could weave a compelling argument out of the loosest common thread between two seemingly entirely dissimilar books. But ask her to remember how a single theorem worked and her brain filled with white noise.

Abby had never failed at anything. Had never had to work so hard to keep up academically. And the effort had begun to slowly destroy her, until she felt wrung dry. Scraped open. Raw. All in pursuit of a future she hadn’t even chosen for herself.

Depression had felt like a word that was all at once too big and too small for what she had been feeling. But what else did you call it when you started isolating yourself because being alone, having no obligations to anyone, felt safer than the risk of letting people down?

Erik suggested therapy. Abby scoffed. Her parents weren’t averse to it in theory. They recognised psychology as a valid practice. But Briars didn’t need that sort of help. So instead, Erik did what Erik did: he looked after her. From bringing her lunch every day, knowing she wouldn’t have bothered to pack her own, to informing Nora every time Abby was home alone for dinner, knowing she would insist on feeding her. He called her every night and read to her over the phone until she fell asleep, because she’d mentioned in passing that she found his voice soothing.

It got worse before it got better. Breaking the news to her parents that she wanted to study literature was…explosive. They didn’t take the news kindly, not understanding why on earth she’d want a life different to theirs. A cold war broke out, with neither party prepared to budge. Abby lost more weight, slept even less. She no longer spent her seventh period feeling like a failure when she couldn’t get an experiment to work. But she did spend every waking moment at home feeling like a failure because she’d let down her parents.

After another few weeks of silence and passive aggression, the ice that had sprung up between them slowly began to thaw. Susan and Andrew finally seemed to realise that while they didn’t have to like their daughter’s decision, they had to accept it. They were both stubborn, and their independent wills had combined to produce an even more headstrong daughter. They had simply assumed they would be the exception to her mulish rules. In this one instance, they were wrong.

Life in the Briar household began to return to its natural resting state—one of cool detachment and politely feigned interest, with only occasional barbs about the choices Abby was making. They cared enough to pretend some of the time, and that had felt like a win somehow.

Each day she had felt a little closer to normal. A little more like herself. Her clothes had begun to fit better. Her skin had regained its flush. Her sleep schedule had adjusted until she could rest through the night, instead of staring at her ceiling for hours on end, waiting for the inevitable crash when the weekend hit.

And through it all, Erik had been there. Making her laugh when she had felt numb. Walking her home from school the long way so she’d get some fresh air and exercise. Holding her when it had all got too much and she’d just needed to cry. Quietly keeping her together when it had felt like too much work to do it herself.

‘I’ve never really thanked you,’ Abby said quietly. Erik’s hand inched along the bar towards hers, catching her wrist lightly. ‘You did so much for me that year and I just—’