Chapter 87

"Damn it!" Marcus growled in frustration as he stumbled over a pair of long boots next to the front door. "Fuck's sake..." he muttered to himself as he trudged away to the sofa. Seeing it covered in stacks of paper, he went to the other sofa and flopped down into it.

"You alright, honey?" Hope asked, peering at him over the rim of her cup, feet folded up underneath at the other end of the sofa.

"Fine," he nodded, immediately burying himself in his book.

"It's just a pair of boots."

"They're in the way."

"You used to trip over my bag when I left it next to the kitchen door. You still kick Sho's shoes every morning. You don't get worked up over them. What's the difference?"

"They belong here."

"So do the boots now. We've invited Yvonne to stay here. Remember?"

"I know."

"I know you don't like her much, but she needs people around her right now."

"I don't dislike her. I'm just ... She's not comfortable."

"Comfortable?"

"Shawna's comfortable, now. She's been there for so long that I know her. She's predictable to an extent. I trust her."

"And me?"

"You? You I trusted straight away," he admitted, his grimace softening slightly as she smiled.

"You don't trust Yvonne? What is it that you think she's going to do?"

"It's not ... Trust isn't the right word. She's not comfortable. I can sit down like this with you and read a book and not feel concerned at all. I can relax, not just despite the fact that you're there, but because you're there. That's why I love you.

"With Yvonne I can't relax. She makes me agitated. Most people make me agitated."

"Hang on. Step back. You love me because I don't irritate you like some people do?"

"Exactly," Marcus nodded, not picking up on the tone of Hope's question.

"That's it?"

"That's what?

"Your feelings for me amount to 'not irritating'?"

"Well, that's not all of it obviously."

"I'm glad."

"I mean I felt comfortable around Tony eventually, but obviously there couldn't be anything there. That took time, but with you it was instantaneous."

"I see."

"Look, I've got to go. I've got another lecture in a minute."

"Right, sure," Hope said, forcing a smile.

"Angel," he said and stopped, turned back, and settled onto his haunches in front of her. "What's going on?"

"You're just going to have to get used to her, Marcus. It'll take time," Hope explained, leaning away from him slightly, covering her chest with the book she'd been reading.

"I meant with us."

"What ... Us? What?"

"I'm comfortable around you, I'm comfortable around Shawna. You say I'll get comfortable around Yvonne, and you're probably right. But you're not comfortable around me any more."

"I am!"

"Then why did you bring your book up in front of you like that when I turned back?"

"I..." Hope folded the book closed — remembering the bookmark a moment after Marcus held it out for her — and put it on the side-table beside the sofa. "I was just —"

Marcus cut her off.

"It's not the first time. I walk into the room and you walk out unless someone else is there, a lot of the time. We go to bed and you make sure you get in last so that you can sleep on the other side of Shawna from me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, studying her nails to avoid looking up at him.

"Have I done something?"

She nodded, and he rocked back.

"Oh."

"What?" she said when finally she looked up at him and saw that he was confused.

"Well, normally I ask you that, and you say no and then go on and explain what's going on," he admitted. She couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. I really am." She patted his arm and was surprised that she didn't have to force herself to keep her hand there. "It's just ... All I can see of you in the last few days is the way you looked in Yvonne's room."

"How did I look?"

"Frightening? Feral, somehow. You were ... I knew you could fight, in an abstract way. I'd just ... I didn't realise how violent it would be."

"You didn't realise fighting would be violent?"

"No, not ... I watched your competition, and it was ... clean. Precise and accurate and controlled. What you did to Connor was..."

"Brutal?"

"Yes."

"I ... I don't remember doing it, really."

"You don't?"

"I remember what happened, but I didn't really choose it. It was just a reaction. He pretended to be Yvonne, so I knew something was wrong, and I kicked the door in." His voice started to quiver a little, and she stroked his arm, pulling him up onto the sofa beside her. "There you were, and ... that just seemed wrong. I had to stop him. That was all I could think of.

"After Shawna and then you I just had to stop him."

"Marcus, I was still dressed."

"So was Shawna when she came home that night."

"Oh."

"And then I got clear of him enough to check how you were, and you ... The look on your face was horrible. I didn't think I was going to get you back."

"You really thought he'd raped me?"

"I ... It wasn't that clear. I wasn't sure what he'd done. You just looked like the bottom had fallen out of your world."

"It had. You'd just ... You'd done that."

"I wanted to kill him just then."

"Why didn't you? I mean it would have been easy, and you were all puffed up and ready for it." Hope held her breath, feeling the room spin a little as she spoke, the significance of the question rushing over her.

"I ... He ... It didn't seem important compared to making sure you were alright. Making sure Yvonne was, too. That's why I went in; that's why I did what I did. To try and make sure you were alright, and I thought I was too late."

"You ... for me? I thought you went there for Yvonne."

"I went there for Yvonne. If it had just been her I don't know what I'd have done. I might have backed off and called the police or something. I'd have probably panicked about what he might do to me and then he'd have got the jump on me."

"So..."

"That anger, that ... I was afraid, Angel. More afraid than I think I've ever been."

"The park?"

"He smacked me around the head with a bat. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Bleak Hill?"

"That was anger. And desperation. I just wanted to get him out of my way. Once I'd done that it was over."

"And Yvonne's room was fear."

"And once I thought I was too late ... it wasn't important any more. I thought I'd failed you."

"You didn't." She pulled him in tight, wrapping his cautious arms around her and nestling into their warmth. "I'm sorry I made you afraid."