Page 80 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
It had taken nine months for him to come to the realization that maybe he could say Fern was his again. And that, while his crimes were not forgotten, maybe he still had the ability to learn from his catastrophic mistakes.
Coral's wound had healed until there was nothing but a faint pigmentation on the back of her hand, which sometimes itched. Connor would moisturise it every day after her bath and before she went to school. Sometimes Fern would catch him running a careful finger over it with a blank expression in his eyes as if remembering...
It had taken one year from the time they moved back to Sale for the dust to settle, for the rawness in their hearts to fade. One year and a month since that day when he had driven to the hospital with his heart in his throat. And since then, they had moved to Manchester, and he had earned his place back in Fern's heart, convincing her into the quiet, halting decision to try again.
And now, they stood at the threshold of their new house—a sensible semi-detached on a quiet road, close enough that Coral could walk to school when she was older. The profitable sale of the old place meant they could afford something in a good neighbourhood, which made for a short commute to Connor's workplace and a fifteen-minute drive to Harlan's house.
Fern exhaled as she sat on the floor in the middle of the small conservatory in the back. "It doesn't feel real."
Connor's hand slid to the small of her back as he sat behind her while Coral played with her Legos. Her vocabulary had improved by leaps and bounds. Her reading skills were far beyond her age, and she had a close circle of friends in school, including a boy named Channing, who followed her around like a lost puppy.
Connor was keeping a wary eye on that one because he recognised that look.
"It will. Give it time. Everything improves with time," Connor murmured in her ear.
She glanced at him. "Like you did?"
His mouth twitched. "I don't know what you are talking about."
He had finally confessed that he had researched her book interests. Only after a few months of her taking him back, of course.
She snorted, heat prickling across her cheeks at what they had been doing while Coral was down for her nap.
"You carried me off to your apartment like a sack of flour." she pouted, remembering that outing with her friends.
"Another man had his hand on your bare skin," he murmured, leaning in until his breath brushed her temple. "And I wasn't about to let that happen."
She shouldn't have liked that.This hovering, the new possessive edge to his voice.But it ticked a box inside her she hadn't realised needed ticking. It was like he flipped a switch when he gently put his hand on the nape of her neck and squeezed just enough to let her know he meant business.
***
The night he'd carried her into his flat was the night everything had changed.
His flat had the bare basics—a bed, a desk, a single chair. A kettle in the kitchen and just milk and eggs in the fridge.
It was like he was waiting for the right signal to move out. His clothes were still unpacked, as she found out when she went looking for a T-shirt and socks to sleep in.
The next morning, Connor had stood watching her with a cup of coffee in his hands.
Things had been awkward as she dressed and he drove her home in silence, as if he was worried that even one wrong word would break this fragile truce.
It was a Saturday, and Coral was all over him. He couldn't quite meet Harlan's eye after all the ways in which he had debauched Fern the night before.
When it was time to go, he hesitated.
"May I... stay?" he asked, voice rough, abandoning all his inhibitions. "Just sleep over tonight?"
Fern had swallowed. "Connor... "
"We don't have to do anything," he added quickly. "I just… Sleep is easier when you're there."
She said yes before she knew it was what she wanted.
She tried to be cool as she nodded. "Okay."
And that was how they ended up snuggled together in her queen-sized bed, his long body in her bed in only boxers, the dusting of chest hair arrowing into a V to disappear into his shorts. She moved through her night-time routine—moisturiser on her legs, smoothing lotion over her arms, brushing her hair until it glowed under the warmlamplight. She tried not to feel self-conscious. It was like their first time all over again.
Connor watched her intensely from the bed, propped on one elbow, his eyes tracking her every movement.
