Page 63 of Criminally Yours

She’d hunkered so far down in her sleeping bag that her face was hidden.

He slid into his sleeping bag, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Will you tell me what happened that day you left?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Okay. That Sunday night”—he hesitated, dragging the words from when he’d buried them—“that Sunday, while both our parents were away and your brother was still… away, I realised I’d get to spend the whole night with you. I never intended for us to have our first times that night.”

“Me neither,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought we’d kiss, cuddle, and fool around.”

“Same. But that night, the best night of my life, sealed that, for me, it would only be you. When I went to university, I’d know my girl waited for me back home, and when you went to study medicine, I’d worry, but I’d never walk away. My future would be you. When I woke you, because you needed to get to college, I was going to tell you all of that.”

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeping bag, hoping she’d turn around so he could decipher her reactions.

“And I announced I was following you to university as soon as my year was done, and it didn’t matter that yours didn’t offer medicine, because I’d give it up so we could be together.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And I said we didn’t need to be apart for longer than a year.”

His stomach turned at how certain he’d been about their future. How foolish they’d been.

“You said your parents would be angry you wanted to give up your dreams, but I was worth it, and you’d give up all your dreams to be with me because I was the one that mattered.”

She gasped, “That was it, wasn’t it? You couldn’t let me give up my dreams for you.”

“I didn’t want you to give up medicine to be with me. I’d wait for you. I tried to tell you, but?—”

“But like a madly in love eighteen-year-old, excited by ideas of what could be, I didn’t listen. But you didn’t have to leave,” she said. Her breath was a little cloud of moisture

“Things escalated while you were in college. I’d planned to chat about the future when you returned and find a solution.”

“When I wasn’t basking in the afterglow.”

“Your afterglow was beautiful.”

She turned in her sleeping bag. Even in the moonlight, he could see her tear-stained cheeks. He reached out, wiping away the remnants of her grief.

“After you went to college, I bumped into your mum. Your parents had returned from their long weekend.”

She sighed, closing her eyes as if she must to clamber for memories. “I’d messaged her that morning to say I wanted to discuss my future and suggested I was unsure about medicine.”

“She mentioned that as she dragged me to your house. Your dad was at work, but your brother was there. He disliked me because there was something he worried I’d tell you. Your mum was livid, blaming me for your decision to ditch medicine.”

“I’m sorry.” Her shoulders trembled. Sadness was overwhelming her again. “I’m sorry you had to face them alone.”

“I’m glad you weren’t there so you didn’t have to listen to their vitriol. They told me I must break things off with you. They suspected we were sleeping together. Although we were adults, they talked like I’d coerced you. That night was about our love, yet they spoke about us like I should be ashamed.”

“It’s taken years for Mum to consider me an adult. I still try to act more innocent than I am. I’ve not helped myself.”

He stared at her, his forehead tightening, wishing he could stop her blaming herself. But he was in the same place as she was.

“But why did you run?” she asked tentatively.

“They said they’d stop us from seeing each other. My parents briefly struggled financially, and with our dads being friends, your dad helped them out. I couldn’t give them money because I’d given mine away. Your mum said she’d stop your dad from helping them.” Millie gasped, but she yanked up the front of her sleeping bag, muffling it. “I don’t think she meant it. She was reacting. She said she’d send you to boarding school.”

“That’s ludicrous. She wouldn’t have done that. You were leaving for university.”

“If I’d spoken with my parents and thought clearly, I’d have known all of this, but I panicked. To ensure your happiness, I had to leave. I wanted you to follow your dreams of medicine–what I thought were your dreams. I didn’t want to ruin your life. As I returned home, I realised that for as long as I was in your life, I’d hold you back. Those worries I told you I had as a teenager?”