It had been one of those dreams, or at least he assumed it had, the tiny portion he could remember was him and her between the pure white sheets of a rumpled bed. He remembered the sensation of skin touching skin, the thrill of being near her. Or who he imagined her to be.

Anna…

If there were any steamy details to the dream, they were lost to him. What he did remember was her laughter, the way she’d looked at him. Her eyes had been full of fun and teasing, but also something else. Something deeper. He’d felt known. Accepted.

He put the figure down, even though there were still a few small finishing touches that needed to be attended to. His chest hurt and he pressed a palm against it, sure another panic attack was about to descend on him, but was surprised to find his heartbeat sound and steady. This wasn’t his nervous system misfiring, telling him peril was lurking nearby when it was doing nothing of the sort. This was something far more dangerous.

It was want.

Need.

For something he couldn’t have. For something he’d promised himself he’d never look for again, because, after the mistakes he’d made, he really didn’t deserve it. And even if he had been so foolhardy as to open his heart again, it would be a very, very bad idea. Not just for him but for the poor woman he dragged into the pit with him. He would never want to do that to someone he truly cared about.

He realized he’d been avoiding looking at his creation and he forced himself to focus on her. He took in the large eyes, the faraway look that made her seem sad, but also the hint of a smile in her expression, not even fully formed enough yet to play on her lips, but it was there, waiting to burst forth. You aren’t real, he told the figure silently. You’re just a figment of my warped imagination. Nothing but my subconscious playing a vicious prank on me.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t keeping her. She was for Moji, anyway. But after he picked the figure up, intending to complete it, he paused. She wasn’t the elf Moji had asked for, and he’d done too much to make any changes now.

He stared at her for a few seconds, then put her up on the shelf that held some of his tools above the workbench, and picked up another block of wood. He pulled his notebook closer and focused on the drawing. This time he was sticking to the plan.

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE CRASH HELMET fit snugly over her ears and went some way to drowning out the rumble of engines and the squeal of tyres. Anna stood at the edge of Brands Hatch racetrack, shaking. She’d turned up two hours ago with Spencer’s voucher, hoping there’d be an open slot today, and had finally got the word someone else had cancelled and she could have her go. The wait hadn’t helped her nerves much, though. Gabi would probably love this, but now the moment was upon her, Anna was definitely having second thoughts.