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It didn’t take long for the darkness to feel heavy, to become oppressive like a winter blanket in the height of summer. Maggie resisted the urge to cry and kick out at it, to try and push it away.
She could hear PJ’s breath deepening into sleep, feel the muscles in his hand relaxing, her only company slipping away into slumber. There was no way she could wake him; she knew his sore tooth was causing enough sleep disturbance as it was. But she wanted him with her - his presence, his touch, his conversation, sarcastic and honest.
Honest.
She’d been too honest with him, too open, too willing to open the locked doors of her heart. The locked doors she’d put between them.
Doyles weren’t supposed to be honest, not about the stuff that really mattered. They were supposed to keep their feelings, their hopes, their real emotions to themselves; present themselves to the world as an unbreakable force.
Something about PJ broke through all her defences, though. He pushed and prodded and pulled things out of her. Words. Confessions. Feelings.
How did she really feel about PJ? She shifted slightly, trying to get some measure of comfort. Trying to forget that they were trapped in a mineshaft and no one knew they were there. Trying to forget that he was asleep right next to her, his fingers enclosed in hers.
She always framed her feelings about PJ in the language of friendship. He was her mate, her best friend. They worked well together and she enjoyed it, even when he drove her crazy. They looked after each other. They were fixtures in each other’s lives, for better or for worse.
But a part of her, the part that was wide awake in dark suffocating places, knew that wasn’t the full story. Knew that she was just kidding herself. Knew that she really wanted more from him. Companionship. Passion. Maybe, her heart whispered to her, maybe even love.
But she protected herself by telling herself stories. By telling herself that PJ wasn’t the kind of man who would make her happy. That he only got into relationships for the fun, for the good times, until he got distracted by a case or an incident or another woman. Maggie didn’t need that. She needed someone solid, someone to be there in the tough times, someone who would be open and honest with her.
PJ couldn’t even tell her how he really felt.
She’d tried to press the issue once, in a moment of weakness at the hospital when she was recovering from tick poisoning. But he wasn’t willing to reveal anything then and she’d been too weak to push. And what would they have done if he’d opened up to her anyway? What possibly could have happened?
What might happen if they were both honest and open with each other? And why did that question scare her so much?
Her eyes felt heavy, despite the darkness, despite her fears, despite the deep breaths and fingers clasped in hers. She knew sleep would happen, just as PJ had told her. And that they would wake and only half their story would be shared.
She wanted his story too.
She wanted his words, his touch, his comfort. She wanted him to want her, to hold her, to be with her. She wanted them to finally admit the things they’d refused to say - for however long they had together.
As soon as she’s had some sleep.