Chapter 38

As rain thundered against the window and the logs in the in the fireplace crackled merrily, Betsy rubbed at healing wound on her thigh. Phantom pains, which had haunted her repeatedly since that night, shot through her leg. It had been a few months since the attack. Yet even now, when the wound was finally closed over with angry pink scar tissue, Betsy still swore that she could feel the knife in her leg. It felt so real, she sometimes thought she would see the handle jutting from her leg if she just looked down.

It was never there. It was just her mind playing tricks as if determined to keep her locked in the bubble of fear.

Closing her eyes tightly, Betsy drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She hated the way her hand trembled as she wiped aware the tears. She was helpless against the lingering effects of that day. Her mind was not an easy thing to fight against. After all, how can you escape your own mind?

It was the woman's eyes which haunted her the most. Not the colour. Most of that had faded to an obscure grey colour, the details bleeding away as if her brain was doing everything it could to blur out the memory. However the one thing that was resistant to its effects was the crazed looking eyes which had been focused on her. The eyes of a killer. She may not have done the deed but in her heart Betsy knew that she would have if she'd had the time.

It was the scariest part.

Betsy had known there were people out there capable of killing. She had been a teenager when she had watched the news with her mum and truly grasped that people were dying at the hands of the other. Yet it had taken her attack to truly put it into perspective. It wasn't just a story anymore. It had been real.

And yet she had still come back to the scene of the crime. She had to.

"Knock knock." Claire sang, forced cheer in her voice.

Turning away from the windows, Betsy smiled over at her sister. "Hey."

Taking that as a sign to approach, Claire crossed the room and pulled her little sister into a one armed hug. With Christmas just a few short weeks away, Claire had already started wearing her fluffy jumpers. The baby pink Fair Isle pattered number tickled against Betsy's cheek as she was hugged close. The shorter woman found that she didn't mind – it felt familiar. Comforting. Safe.

And all Betsy wanted was to feel safe.

"I know you're fed up with me asking this, but how are you feeling?" Claire asked softly.

The pair watched one another's reflection in the glass. Even through a reflection Betsy felt undone under her sister's gaze.

Betsy snorted and shook her head. "I won't lie and say I'm great. I'm far from it. But I'll be okay." Tilting her head to the side, Betsy rested her head against Claire's shoulder. "With a big sister like you, how could I not be?"

Claire laughed and pressed a kiss to Betsy's blonde curls. "I know you're just trying to butter me up. The answer is no. I'm not stealing cookies from Mrs Reed for you. I want to be invited for Christmas dinner."

Betsy laughed and shook her head. "You're no fun. Where are the kids?"

"With Nick. It still surprises me with how great he is with them. If you knew the Nick I first met." Claire trailed off, her reflection wearing a matching wistful smile.

The pair fell silent. Betsy opened her mouth a few times to say something. Say anything. But she just couldn't seem to find the right words.

"Have you spoken to him today?"

Betsy shook her head, her eyes closing briefly. "No. I want to." She paused and let loose a long sigh. "Since the incident, we've barely spoken about anything important. There's always some reason or other not to talk. Some reason for him to leave the room."

"Don't stress about it. Things will work themselves out." Claire reassured her. "Now come and help me get out some board games. I think a game night is in order."

"Fine." Betsy relented before giving her sister a playful nudge in the ribs. "But we are not playing Monopoly. I know how you get."

Claire snorted out a laugh. "I really don't understand what you mean by that comment."

"Of course you don't." With a roll of her eyes, Betsy hobbled to the door. "Come on then. I'll show you where they are."

Betsy's feet carried her through the house without thought. She knew the place as if it was her own home. She could admit to herself that it still felt like her home. The new cottage she had decided to rent just a few small towns over was beautiful and cosy. It was exactly the type of house she had always wanted – right down to the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling. And yet it wasn't home.

Betsy stepped into one of the smaller rooms secreted off of the hallway. It was more like a large windowless cupboard. It was filled with shelves from floor to ceiling, each of them buried under stacks of different games. From Hungry Hippos and Buckaroo to Cluedo and the dreaded Monopoly. And there, on the highest shelf – 'The Game of Life.'

"Had to be on the top shelf," Betsy muttered to herself, standing on her tiptoes using one hand to steady herself while the other was stretched above her head. She shifted her weight on to one foot, her injured leg protesting at the movement.

Betsy had a single moment where she sensed the presence of another person within the enclosed space of the games cupboard before an arm was stretching past her head. The familiar scent of Nick's cologne surrounded her as he easily drew the board game from its perch.

As he stepped away from her, she turned. Their eyes locked but neither made an attempt to speak. All the things left unsaid lingered in the air between them – almost a physical barrier which couldn't be breached. Betsy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and tried not to sigh out loud.

Nick didn't appear to be having the same dilemma; he looked perfectly at ease. His was dressed in comfortable worn in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt. Even his cheeks were covered with the start of a perfectly pruned beard. It was like he had finally allowed himself to stop and see the world around him. To relax and be comfortable in his own skin.

Betsy resisted the urge to brush fingers through the coarse hairs on his cheeks. Nick had always been so clean cut. From the suit to the clean shaven cheeks – he was always pristine and in control. This new version of his was so different. A good different.

Nick cleared his throat and held the box out towards her. "Here you go."

Betsy blinked and looked down at the box before reluctantly taking it into her hands. She knew as soon as it left his hands he would walk away and the conversation would go unsaid once more. But still she couldn't make herself bring it up. Instead, she just said, "Thanks."

"I should be getting back." Nick released his hold on the box before dragging his eyes away. "Is there anything else you need from in here?"

Betsy didn't even look up at the shelves. She just felt her stomach rolling uncomfortably as she just shook her head and whispered, "No."

Nick's shoulders dropped just a little bit as he sighed. It was almost like he was disappointed. Betsy ignored that thought. He was the one who was always walking away from her – he was the one who avoided conversations just as he was trying to do once more.

Before he could make his great escape, the door to the cupboard swung shut in his face with a loud bang.

"What the hell?" Nick grabbed hold of a door handle and turned it but it would not budge.

Muffled giggling penetrated through the door. Little shadows moved as the guilty parties huddled on the other side.

Betsy snorted at the sound and shook her head, a smile lifting the corner of her lips as she did so.

Turning his head, Nick raised a brow at her.

"What? It reminds me of the day we met. Though it wasn't us locked in the cupboard that time."

"I'd forgotten about that. Poor Mrs Reed." Nick chuckled before turning his attention back to the door. When the handle still would not turn, Nick thumped his hand on the door. "Delilah? Tommy? Open the door."

There was a squeal of surprise from the children before their footsteps hurriedly retreated away from the door. Their chance of escape gone, Nick hit the door for effect. He turned and leaned against the solid wood.

"Looks like we're stuck in here for the time being." Betsy stated lamely as she folded her arms across her chest. Nick glanced at her face before dropping his gaze. Her frustration, which had been growing steadily day by day since she had left the hospital, could no longer be contained. "Okay, that's enough. I've had enough! Will you just look at me?"

"What?" Nick asked in confusion, his eyes darting towards her before he could stop them. "What do you mean?"

"You've been avoiding me since I got out of the hospital." Betsy responded. "Don't even try to deny it. I'm not stupid."

His head bowed. Betsy caught a brief glimpse of guilt upon his features before he hid his face from view.

"Why? What did I do? I know I chose to take a step back but I didn't mean for you to avoid me. I just needed time. Was that too much to ask for?"

"No! Of course not." Nick replied vehemently, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I just- . You've been through something traumatic, Betsy. I can't even begin to imagine what it has been like for you." Reaching out, Nick caressed his fingers across her cheek. Betsy tilted her face into his touch, enjoying the feel of it once more. "It was never my intention to make you think I was avoiding you. I just didn't want to overwhelm you – I wanted to protect you. It's the kind of man that I am."

Betsy sighed as she stared up at him. "I wish you would stop treating me like I'm some fragile porcelain doll. I like that you want to protect me. I love that you protect your family. But I think it's time you realised I am a strong woman. I can handle more than you give me credit for." She pulled her face away from his hand and watched it fall uselessly to his side.

"I never doubted you were strong. But even strong people are allowed to have moments of weakness. It's okay to rely upon other people, Betsy."

"I'm not arguing about that. I just don't need you to mollycoddle me. I need you to talk to me and to tell me the truth. And if my strength ever wavers, I want you to be standing there by side. I want you to be my partner - supporting me."

Betsy stepped closer to Nick, her fingers entwining with his. "Can you do that?"

He squeezed her fingers in response before after a long moment she nodded her head. "I think I can manage that."

Betsy smiled up at him, her features softening as she did so. She made no move to remove her hand from his. Instead, under the glare of the artificial lighting, they just stood there in comfortable silence. It felt right.

"We should probably try and get out of here." Betsy said after several minutes had passed, her eyes flitting towards the door.

"I suppose we should." Nick responded, his eyes boring into the side of her face. "But before we do. If it's not too soon to ask. Can I take you out – on a date?"

Betsy snapped her focus away from the door and glanced up at the man before her. His cheeks had a faint blush upon them, almost obscured by his growing beard. He was watching her with anxious anticipation. Someone other than her might not have noticed the small ticks that gave him away but Betsy knew him. She saw the way his lips thinned just so and the way that his eyes twitched at the corners.

"No."

The simple word slipped from her lips with ease. As the words registered, a frown formed on his brow as Nick stumbled backwards. Betsy used his hand to tug him back.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say no?"

A small giggle escaped Betsy's lips as she stretched her hand up and stroked his face. "Of course I said no, you silly man. You can't take me on a date." When Nick choked and spluttered in response, Betsy moved her hand to cover his mouth. "Because this time I'm taking you out."

Nick's shoulders slumped for a brief moment, relief spreading through his entire body. Yet, a moment later a gleam began to shine in his eyes. Betsy swallowed nervously in response. A moment later his tongue slipped past his lips and he licked across the palm of her hand.

"Nick! That's disgusting." Betsy chastised, wiping the saliva covered hand down his top. She heard a crash as the game slipped from her hold and crashed to the floor but she was too focused on drying her hands.

"It's called payback." Before Betsy utter a word of protest, Nick leaned forwards and pressed his lips to hers.

Even though she saw it coming, Betsy couldn't stop her gasp of surprise. As soon as she parted her lips, Nick groaned low in his throat capturing her gasp as he deepened the kiss. As their tongues danced, his hands settled upon her hips, holding her close as they stole a moment together. It had been too long – far too long – since she had been kissed by Nick. She had missed it.

The kiss was tame by comparison to some of their kisses in the past. Yet this kiss was filled with so much more meaning.

Closing her eyes, Betsy allowed herself to feel. Feel the way he held her. To feel the sensations only Nick had ever been able to invoke. But most importantly to her – to feel loved and cared for. It was what she need wanted. It was what she needed.

A click sounded through the room but neither paid it any mind. Nick just moved a hand up and threaded his fingers through Betsy's hair.

"I can't believe the kids-. Oh." Claire's words stuttered to a stop before she cleared her throat. "I'll just leave you both to it."

Nick and Betsy broke away from the kiss at the sound of the voice. Unable to completely step away just yet, Betsy just chuckled as she rested her cheek against Nick's chest. Claire always had impeccable timing. Her sister's form was already retreating but the moment had been broken.

As her foot shifted, plastic crunched under foot. The Game of Life had exploded over the carpet, like tiny pieces of shrapnel. Maybe it was because she had let her guard down. Maybe it was because she finally felt for the first time in weeks. Betsy wasn't sure exactly caused it but within seconds her chuckles turned into giddy laughter. She laughed so hard her entire body was shaking and her muscles ached at the strain.

Nick's arms tightened around her, his cheek resting on top of her head. It was like he knew exactly what she needed. Quickly the laughter turned into a strange hysterical mixture of laughter and sobs. Betsy couldn't decide whether she was coming or going. It was like the dam had finally broken and everything she had kept hidden and locked away, everything she had tried to keep at bay, had finally made its escape.

"It's okay. I've got you." He whispered in her ear.

Betsy, reassured by those words, clung to Nick's t-shirt for dear life and allowed herself to truly let go. She hadn't been able to properly cry after the attack. Sure there had been a tear or two over the months. Yet it was in the safety of Nick's hold, she finally let herself breakdown for the first time since her ordeal. It was painful. It felt as if she was rubbing at all of her wounds, reopening them once more. And yet it felt cathartic. It was as if she was being unburdened.

And even though she was raw and exposed, Betsy felt safe. And that was what mattered most.

"So where are you taking me on this date?" Nick asked when her crying had slowed to a pathetic sniffle.

Slapping him on the chest, Betsy sighed and relaxed into his hold. She just felt drained – both physically and emotionally. Still, she mustered up enough energy to wipe away her tears and offer him a rather pathetic attempt at a playful wink. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Nick laughed in response before drawing her into his arms  once more.  And even though she looked and felt like a mess, and even though the pair of them were still trying to figure things out, Betsy knew with a strange amount of certainty everything was going to be okay.