SHE was right. He sat there in silence, realising the truth of that. He’d thought himself a coward, and yet without realising he was raising a silent rebellion. He would not let his mother have this life, this precious life in his arms. He ruminated on that, flushing somewhat when she made his influence on her life clear. She cared for him, she wished to preserve his goodness. What greater gift would he ever ask for?
“You are sweet beyond words, Sally. You speak so highly of a man who has been more monster than man for centuries. If you’ve seen the things I have done… I think you would fear me rather than take comfort in my arms.”
This had to stop, Ambrose’s talk of self hatred that made tears well up beneath her closed eyelids. She knew what she knew and nothing he could have said would ever be enough to change Sally’s perception of him, good and brave; how could it happen, when it was him the one keeping her close like nursing her back to health wasn’t a complete waste of everyone’s time? The junkie was one hell of a stubborn person, he would soon come to learn that… if he chose to stay long enough to see her well and ready to fight him on it.
There was only one way of proving she meant what she said, up to the last word of it. Kisses had always been Sally’s secret weapon — her most reliable resource when it came to opening up to someone… and she made use of it with no shame, to finally shut him up. Ambrose’s lips felt warm against hers as they swallowed the last of his words, both her hands untangling themselves from around his shirt so they could hold onto his face instead. A loving grip.