Chapter 10
Killian
Ding, dong.
I breathed on my hand and sniffed. Yep, minty fresh.
I’d showered and washed my hair, now in a loose bun. I’d visited the laundrette and washed the best clothes I owned, my old, worn boots on my feet. They were the best I had.
I fully expected Harvey to cancel. I didn’t know exactly what was going on with him, and I didn’t want to hazard a guess, but I knew this was a big step for him.
The door flew open, and a very flustered Harvey stood in the doorway. “Hi, come in. I’m almost done.”
I followed him into the kitchen; the smell was divine. Pots and pans covered almost every surface, and steam filled the air.
“Whoa, what’s cooking, Harvey?”
He swiped a hand across his forehead. “Erm, shepherd’s pie with vegetables and sticky toffee pudding.”
Poor guy sounded stressed.
“Anything I can do?”
“Drinks? I bought lime and soda, or there are some soft drinks. I didn’t get any alcohol.”
“That’s absolutely perfect.” I was impressed he’d taken note. “What’ll you have?”
“Juice is fine.”
I poured the drinks and stepped out of his way. I glanced around the small kitchen; there was barely enough space for us. It was typical of old houses like this. It could have done with some modernisation.
“How long have you lived here?”
“All my life. It was Grandma’s, then she handed it to my parents. When they died, they left it to me.”
A homeowner at twenty-eight. I knew kids who would have killed to own a house outright at such a young age.
“It’s nice.”
The cupboards were oak with granite worktops. Harvey cooked on an old electric oven. How long had that been there? Beige tiles covered the floor. A back door led to a veranda, but I couldn’t quite see what was in there. This time of year, it was so dark that I couldn’t see out into the garden.
He tutted as he worked, muttering under his breath. “I’m usually so good at this. I’m fucking it all up.”
“Hey, chill, Harvey. It’s all good. I’ve got all night.”
“I know, but I wanted it to be right.” He put down the pot he’d been holding and faced me.
He tensed as I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Deep breaths. You know the drill.”
He looked tired, and I wondered how much sleep he’d got last night. Not much by the looks of things.
“I’m just stressed.”
“I know, and there’s no need to be. It’s just me. I’ve been living on Pot Noodles and crackers for the past week, so this is gonna be good whatever you do to it.”
A small smile crept across his face. There it was. I vowed to get a few more out of him this evening, but first, we needed to get dinner dished up.
“Now, let me help.”
He handed me a pan full of potatoes and a block of butter. “Can you mash?”
“Can I? I’m Irish. We love potatoes.”
A laugh burst from him. Not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full-blown laugh. The tension he carried ebbed away, and for the first time since I’d met him, he relaxed.
I remembered how he’d lit up when we talked about music and opened my favourite playlist. I pressed play, and the sound of Van Morrison filled the steamy kitchen. I sang as we worked, and before long, the pie was in the oven, and all the pans were washed.
“Now, that didn’t take long, did it?”
“I wanted to have it all done before you arrived, but I overslept, and then I had a quick session with my therapist.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, slightly concerned.
“Everything is good. I promise. Now, let’s take our drinks, and I’ll give you the tour. Dinner will be another half an hour at least.”
“Lead on, Macduff.” I gestured for him to go first.
“You know Shakespeare?” He looked a little shocked, but I wasn’t a complete heathen.
“Judgmental much? Macbeth is just one of my favourites. I can quote Bill with the best of them.”
I coughed and stood with my arm out, ready for my performance of the decade.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Okay, maybe I don’t know so much. That’s all I can remember of that one.”
“You did better than me. I failed miserably at school in English. Not one of my greatest subjects.”
Seeing him like this was like a breath of fresh air. What had happened to the distant introvert I met only last week?
By this time, we were in the lounge. Again, it needed some modernisation, but it was clean. A marked improvement on my place. It was better than it had been when Seth last visited, but it still needed work. No way I’d let Harvey in there.
“What was your favourite subject in school?” I wanted to keep the conversation light.
He sat in one of the armchairs. I sat on the sofa, almost facing him.
“I enjoyed computer science and maths. I’ve never been very eloquent, so English passed me by. What about you?”
“Well, computer science wasn’t a thing when I was at school. Music was my thing. I loved it and spent my lunch hours in the music room, playing guitar, piano. Any instrument I could get my hands on.”
“How many do you play?”
I blew out a breath. “Now you’re asking me.” I ticked each one off on my fingers. “Guitar, piano, ukulele, flute, and drums, of course.”
“So, you could be your own Irish band.” He laughed again, and it was like talking to a different person.
“You’re right there. I could be a one-man band.”
I sipped at my drink and watched him closely. In all the time I’d known him, other than yesterday, I’d never looked that closely at him. He’d always look away or hide his face. But tonight, I could see him. Really see him.
His clothes were better than mine, but that wasn’t difficult: blue-black jeans and a plain grey long-sleeved shirt.
His brown eyes shone in the lamplight, almost liquid in appearance.
Short brown hair and a beard to match, which did nothing to hide the sharpness of his cheekbones or the set of his jaw.
I was sure many wouldn’t have found him attractive, but his vulnerability drew me in. His good looks were a bonus.
He fiddled with his fingers as the silence stretched.
“So…”
“What…”
“You first, Harvey.”
He sipped his drink, and while he was a changed man from last week, his nerves simmered beneath the surface. The small smile, slightly crooked, not as bright as before.
“I’ve done nothing like this before.” He waved his hand around. “No one has stepped foot in this house since Grandma died.”
“No one at all?”
He shook his head, “It’s like I said. I’m a loner. Having you here takes a lot of courage on my part. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Just friends, Harv. Nothing else. I’m not that kind of man.” I’d never coerce or force anyone to do anything against their will, least of all someone like Harvey. The nerves, the worry on his face… I knew it had taken a lot to invite me, let alone let me in.
“I know. That’s what my therapist said.” He paused for a moment. “Look, you should know I have a lot of issues, so, you know, if you want to leave, if it’s not something you think you can deal with, I understand.”
“Hey, it’s no problem at all. We all have our issues.” Time to be candid. “I’m a recovering addict. Well, drug addict. I didn’t give up drinking until a week ago. I realised a few things. Reconsidered my life, you know?”
He took a deep breath. “I did the same. I’m not sure if I can do it, but I have to try.”
“Of course you do. For me? I can’t go on the way I am, fucking around and getting nowhere fast. I’ve been here long enough now. I realised I’ve got to let go of a few things, including friends, if I want to make anything of myself. Time is running out. I’m thirty-five, not twenty-five.”
“You don’t look it. Fuck, I wish I looked as good as you do and I’m younger.”
That wasn’t true. He had an innocence about him, a naivety, but that was probably because he’d closed himself off to the outside world.
“Do you get out much? I know you said you don’t have any friends.” How difficult it must be to go through life with no one to rely on? What if something happened?
“I go to work, and that’s it. The past two weeks have been a complete anomaly. Other than a trip to the tattoo artist and the supermarket.”
“Who do you talk to?” I couldn’t imagine not talking to anyone from one day to the next.
“I talk to customers at work. That’s enough sometimes. Listening to their problems and trying to solve them can be difficult. And like I said, I game. Usually online, so I talk to people then.”
His shoulders had dropped, no longer up around his ears, and he’d folded his legs beneath him. I hoped that meant he was more comfortable with me being here.
“And you live here alone?”
“Yep. I should go check on the dinner.” He swept out the door, leaving me to look around the room.
There were photos of what I assumed were his parents, an elderly lady, and a photograph of a small boy enveloped in the arms of a woman.
Her smile was bright, as was the boy’s. There was no mistaking Harvey.
His eyes were the same, but without the heaviness they conveyed now. Death and grief had taken a toll on him, that was clear but then losing your loved ones in such a short space of time, of course it would.
I still carried the grief of my brother’s death, although I’d tried to hide it with drugs, alcohol, and sex.
If I was high, I sensed nothing, but as soon as I came down, the feelings of loss, the bone-deep ache of no longer having my brother around, would tighten the hold on my heart until I was sure it would fracture.
And now? Without that barrier, memories long buried invaded my dreams to the point of exhaustion. The temptation to go back to how I was was an ongoing struggle. Maybe Harvey was the distraction I needed.
“Killian? Dinner’s ready.”
I hurried into the kitchen to see him struggling to get the pie out of the oven. I dashed over to give him a hand, completely forgetting the dish would be scalding hot.
“Ow, fuck.” I jumped backwards and fell on my arse. I shook my hand out and looked at it. A blister had already formed.
“Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Harvey looked at me with wide eyes, then covered his face with his hands, the pie now safe on the work surface.
“It’s grand,” I said and winced as I held my hand under the ice-cold water from the tap. It did nothing to stop the burning sensation. The blister might only be small, but it fucking hurt.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising, Harvey. It was all my fault. How about you dish up, and I’ll join you in a minute.” The frigid water hurt more than the burn, but the moment I removed it from the water, it stung like a bitch.
He didn’t move and stood off to the side, his arms in front of him. He nibbled on a nail, concern on his face. “I knew something would go wrong. I shouldn’t have said yes.”
“Harvey. Just breathe through it. I’m fine, and it wasn’t anything you did. Please, let me see to this, and we can eat as we planned.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure, and I’m starving.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
I watched as he set the plates out and scooped a serving of bubbling shepherd’s pie from the dish. No wonder it had burnt me. He served up the vegetables and carried them into another room.
I followed him into a dining room where a table for two was set. Not an intimate setting. Two sets of cutlery, a jug of water, and two glasses.
“This looks great, Harvey.” Despite his objections, he had tried to make it look good.
“Does it? I’ve never entertained anyone before. I couldn’t even find a tablecloth.”
“You wouldn’t find one in my place either. I don’t even have a table.”
“Really?”
“Really. This smells amazing.” And it was.
We barely spoke throughout the meal. My finger stung, and I could barely hold my fork, but eventually, we were done.
“I’ve not had a home-cooked meal for… actually, I can’t remember.” I sat back in my chair and patted my stomach. “That was so fucking good, but you’ve barely touched yours.”
He’d made a good show of pushing his food around the plate, but he’d hardly eaten anything.
“I don’t eat much, and I was saving myself for dessert. Sticky toffee pudding okay?”
“Fucking amazing!”