Audrey's not sure what she was expecting as an answer, but she looked down, with a small nod. The word that comes out, more press, than certainty, as she stepped to the side of him. "Yeah."
It feels hollower than it was supposed to, walking away. Not like she said it wrong. Not like he didn't understand; not with that small smile and the quietness to his voice. They'll come back to it later. It's a promise. Later. When she comes back. After Lucy Ripley. After whatever happens with Lucy Ripley, if it is Lucy Ripley. It's a promise. Hers. His. Not not. Never now. Always later.
But later --
Audrey's steps away stopped cold.
-- later there's always more that's come up. More dominoes. More questions. More cases. More things they can't predict. And it's not. It's not enough. It's still not enough. Not good enough for what she means.
Words are not enough. Words can change. They can be taken away. Forever. There's a certainty building in her, beside something like fear, and something like fragileness, and something else so tired of always waiting, always having to go ( she still has to go now). She can't think about it. About going. About stopping to consider, not even him, when she turns. It's only few steps, she barely feels, with her heart suddenly in her throat.
Reaching up to catch the side of his face and push up to kiss him. Clear. Something so much clearer than words. What she meant.
no subject
The word that comes out, more press, than certainty, as she stepped to the side of him. "Yeah."
It feels hollower than it was supposed to, walking away. Not like she said it wrong. Not like he didn't understand; not with that small smile and the quietness to his voice. They'll come back to it later. It's a promise. Later. When she comes back. After Lucy Ripley. After whatever happens with Lucy Ripley, if it is Lucy Ripley. It's a promise. Hers. His. Not not. Never now. Always later.
But later --
More dominoes. More questions. More cases. More things they can't predict.
And it's not. It's not enough. It's still not enough. Not good enough for what she means.
Words are not enough. Words can change. They can be taken away. Forever. There's a certainty building in her, beside something like fear, and something like fragileness, and something else so tired of always waiting, always having to go ( she still has to go now). She can't think about it. About going. About stopping to consider, not even him, when she turns. It's only few steps, she barely feels, with her heart suddenly in her throat.
Reaching up to catch the side of his face and push up to kiss him.
Clear. Something so much clearer than words. What she meant.
What he did.