The ferry jolted against the waves as it slowly reversed from Mornington Pier. Kate flinched in shock as Tilly’s hand shot out to grip the back of the chair beside her for balance. Attempting to regain her footing, Tilly glared down at her outstretched hand that held a takeaway cup. Black tea had leapt from the mouth of the cup and onto her thumb.

Tilly’s gaze flickered from her hand to Kate’s stare. “May I sit with you?” she asked, so softly that Kate could barely hear her over the noise of the engine and the storm.

Kate nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice husky from so little sleep. “’Course.”

Sinking into the seat beside her, Tilly crossed her legs. Kate tried not to stare as Tilly lifted her wrist to her mouth and kissed the droplets of tea from her hand. “It’s gloomy today,” Tilly murmured.

“Mmm.”

“And rough.”

“Won’t notice it once he picks up speed.”

God, can we open a window in here? The ferry was stuffy with humidity and Kate felt sticky, sickly.

“Where did you go last night, Kate?”

Kate picked at the corrugated cardboard sleeve of the cappuccino from the Mornington Pier café. “Nowhere. I just walked around.”

“All night?”

“If you’re asking if I saw Elodie, I didn’t. I just walked around.” There had been a visit to a bar around two thirty, but Tilly didn’t need to know about that.

“You must be exhausted.”

Kate shrugged. She looked across the aisle. Lexi, Molly, and Grace talked quietly amongst themselves while Emma rested, eyes closed, hand pillowed between the vibrating window and her temple.

Tilly’s hand that wasn’t holding her coffee slipped between her crossed legs. “I’m so sorry, Kate. For last night…”

Kate took a sip of her coffee. “We’re okay,” she murmured.

“I’m not,” she said, whisper soft. “I’m scared, Kate.”

Kate looked at her, searching.

“I’m scared that I’m being used, that everybody can see it but me.” Her green eyes bore into Kate’s. “I’m scared to think of going to bed with him.” She paused. “And I’m terrified that, deep down, I wasn’t scared of that with you last night. Not in the slightest.”

A potent mixture of satisfaction and relief stole the air from Kate’s lungs.

Tilly’s lips parted and for a moment, she struggled—not to find words, Kate thought, but to voice them. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” She searched Kate’s gaze for an anchor. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tilly,” she said raggedly. I can’t tell you who you are.

Tilly leaned across the armrest, so close Kate could feel her breath on her neck. “But you know me better than anybody.”

Kate looked out at the water. Tilly’s disappointment was palpable. It seemed Tilly was expecting some kind of pleasing, titillating response. If Tilly was looking to be seduced, she’d come to the wrong woman. There was nothing Kate wanted more than to have Tilly in her arms, but the threat of consequence rattled those fantasies close to death. Making love with Tilly…it could destroy them.