Page 120 of Pull Me Under

And I stand there, the taste of betrayal thick in my mouth, knowing I won’t forgive myself for this.

I find her outside.

She’s leaning against the harbour wall, arms crossed, staring out at the water. The rain has stopped but the air is thick with mist, hazing the streetlights into soft gold circles.

She doesn’t look sad.

She looks like she’s about to commit murder.

‘Brynn—’

‘Don’t.’ She doesn’t turn around. ‘Don’t you dare.’

‘Please, just let me explain⁠—’

‘Explain what?’ She spins. Her eyes are blazing – not with tears, with rage. Pure, incandescent rage. ‘Explain why you looked at me like I was dogshit on your shoe? In front of the whole fucking pub?’

‘My dad was right there⁠—’

‘I know he was right there! I have eyes, Jude!’ She advances on me, and I actually step back. ‘Do you know what I did when I came back to this village? I walked into a place where everyone hated my family. Where your father – your father – has spent twenty years making sure no one forgets what the Trelawneys supposedly did. I held my head up and I took it.’

‘I know⁠—’

‘You don’t know shit.’ She’s in my face now, close enough that I can see the fury crackling behind her eyes. ‘I came back here ready to hate you. Ready to hate all of you. The Hardings, who drove my family out. Who made my grandfather die in exile. Who made my father—’ She stops. Breathes. ‘And then you. You with your stupid fish puns and your sad eyes. You made me think maybe I was wrong. Maybe not all Hardings were⁠—’

‘Brynn—’

‘I let you in.’ Her voice cracks, but it’s not weakness – it’s the sound of trust breaking like a load-bearing wall giving way. ‘I let a Harding into my bed. Into my head. I told myself the feud didn’t matter, the history didn’t matter, because you were different. Because you saw me.’

‘I do see you⁠—’

‘Training’s not until Monday.’ She throws my words back at me like a slap. ‘That’s what you said. While I’m standing there with my heart in my throat, thinking maybe – just maybe – you’d have the balls to acknowledge me. And instead you looked through me like I was nothing. Like I was just another Trelawney. Just another piece of rubbish your family needs to sweep away.’

‘That’s not what I⁠—’

‘Do you have any idea what it cost me? To trust you?’ She’s shaking now, but not with sadness. With fury she can barely contain. ‘I spent my whole life learning that the only person I can count on is myself. That everyone leaves. Everyone disappoints. And then you – you made me believe it could be different. You made me soft. And the second it actually mattered, the second there was any risk at all, you threw me away like I was nothing.’

‘I panicked⁠—’

‘You panicked.’ She laughs, harsh and bitter. ‘You know what? My family was right about yours. The Hardings – you take and you take and you take, and then when it costs you something, you run. Your father drove my grandfather out of his home. And you? You can’t even look at me when Daddy’s watching.’

That lands. Hard.

‘That’s not fair⁠—’

‘Fair?’ Her eyes go wide. ‘You want to talk to me about fair? I gave up everything to come back here. I put myself in the firing line of Harding hatred. And you can’t even give me a smile in a pub.’

‘My father would⁠—’

‘What? What would he do, Jude? Yell at you? Disapprove? Cut you off from the precious family business you don’t even want?’ She steps closer, and her voice drops to a dangerous note. ‘You told me about Plymouth About marine biology. About how you feel like you’re drowning every time you step on that boat. You told me you dream about a different life. But you won’t reach for it because you’re too scared of what Reuben might think.’

‘It’s complicated⁠—’

‘It’s not complicated. It’s pathetic.’ She spits the word. ‘You’re not hiding me because of the feud. You’re hiding me because you’re a coward. You hide everything. Your dreams, your wants, your whole bloody self. You’ve spent your entire life performing for a man who will never love you the way you need, and you’re so desperate for his scraps that you’d rather lose me than risk his disapproval.’

‘You don’t understand what he’s like⁠—’

‘I understand exactly what he’s like. He’s a bitter old man who destroyed my family and poisoned this whole village against us.’