Chapter 26
For Eiley, exhaustion usually felt like rough gravel scraping down her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, but there was nothing unpleasant about the sort that followed her afternoon with Warren.
On their way back into town, she rested her head against the car window, body still vibrating – and not just from the sex.
She was content, she realised. For the first time in a long time, there was nothing she wanted to change.
Nothing that made her sad or angry, except maybe when he sang loudly to the Oasis song playing on the radio after she’d said she didn’t much like them.
Even then, his voice was gravelly, silly, melodic as he exaggerated a thick Mancunian accent.
When she told him to stop, it was through a laugh that came straight from her belly.
They pulled up outside the bookshop, and the joy fell away. She’d wasted time that should have been spent sorting out the book bus. She didn’t dare imagine how Maggie would react when she found out that her new van had broken down not an hour after setting off.
“What are you thinking about?” Warren asked. She didn’t realise she was chewing her nails until he nudged her hand away from her mouth to lace their fingers together.
“All the things that still need to be done.”
“I can come in and help you for a bit, if you want.”
She checked the time on the dashboard clock and sighed. “I should check in with the kids soon.”
He frowned. “Eiley, what you said before, about their dad …”
She silenced him with a finger to his lips; she didn’t want to talk about the secrets they’d shouted into the wind earlier, and she certainly didn’t want to think of Finlay. “What happens on the hill stays on the hill.”
Smirking, he chased her finger away with a kiss. “I was only going to say that you’re doing a really great job, and it sounds like the kids are better off without him. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
That, she knew. Mostly. Still, it warmed her to hear him say it, and she leaned in to brush his tousled hair from his face. “Okay, fine,” she decided, “you can help me put up a couple of shelves while I call Maggie.”
“How generous of you.”
They got out of the van together, giggling like nervous teenagers when they met each other’s gaze.
It was different now. Not just the air between them, but everything that surrounded them.
The sun warmed Eiley’s skin, the sky a slightly richer shade of blue than she’d noticed before.
She thought maybe this was what most people felt when they walked around town, smiling and chatting: a knowing that everything was okay, even just for now.
She could exhale without her lungs tightening.
Inside, Maggie stood at the counter, face lit by her laptop screen. An unusual sight at this time of day, until Eiley saw she wasn’t alone. Eiley presumed the tall, sandy-haired man at the counter was one of the contractors who had been flitting about during repairs over the last weeks.
And then he turned around, murky brown eyes locking on hers, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. Finlay, sipping coffee out of one of Eiley’s old mugs, greeting her with a wary smile.
No. The bookshop was the one part of her life he hadn’t infiltrated. Why was he here?
Why now ?
“Oh, thank goodness you’re back! I wondered where you’d gotten to.” Maggie dropped her half-eaten Hobnob biscuit back onto its plate, slapping the oats from her hands. “You’ve got a wee visitor!”
“Hello, Eiley.” Finlay’s attention settled on Warren with an intimidating heat. “Who’s this?”
Eiley didn’t know what to say, what to do. Her legs turned wobbly, nausea wrenching through her stomach.
“Are you okay, dear?” Maggie asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I …”
“I should have said. She wasn’t expecting me,” Finlay supplied, scratching the unkempt beard rounding his usually pointy chin.
He looked a little healthier than last time she’d seen him, which wasn’t saying much, considering he’d been drunk at her doorstep.
Now, he was composed, full of smug clarity, his hair perfectly styled around his oval face and dipping across his lined forehead.
Ruggedly handsome, but she knew too much about what lay beneath to be swept away by it anymore.
It felt contrived. Compared to Warren’s beauty, and his delicate care, there wasn’t much to admire.
Warren’s hand was a reassuring weight at the base of her spine, prodding her back to life. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” He laughed. Laughed . “I wanted to see you.”
“Sorry, dear. He said he was the bairns’ dad, and I just assumed it made him welcome.” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Should he go?”
“No,” Finlay said at the same time Warren muttered, “Aye.”
Eiley saw some of that ill temper bleed through when Finlay rolled his shoulders back. She felt like the exposed underlay was about to crumble beneath her.
“It’s not your fault, Maggie.” She spoke carefully. “He knows he shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, come on, Eils.” Finlay set down his mug. “At least hear me out. Please.”
Maggie winced. “I think I should make myself scarce.” On her way, she patted Eiley’s shoulder sympathetically. “Good luck, dear.”
Eiley needed it. A gust of stiflingly humid air – air that had just a moment ago, been wonderful and fresh – rushed into the bookshop with her exit, and she stepped further inside. Further towards Finlay.
“Should I be leaving, too?” Warren asked stiffly.
“Aye, off you pop,” said Finlay before Eiley had time to even consider.
A gnawing twinge burrowed into her chest: a desire for Warren to stay, yes, but also a grief.
Their time was over. Their explorations cut short.
For a moment, she’d been untethered, able to give in to what she wanted, but the chains had returned all at once, and she couldn’t let Warren get caught in the tangle.
Their connection was too important to taint with all her baggage.
She wanted him here, but she couldn’t have him here. Couldn’t thrust him in the middle of this. Finlay was a reminder of all the reasons why she couldn’t give her heart away again.
“I was asking Eiley,” Warren clarified. “And while I appreciate you two have history, I think maybe you’re an ex for a reason, which leaves the decision completely up to her.”
“I’m a bit more than an ex, mate. We have three kids together.” If Finlay, with his lanky five-feet-ten frame, was intimidated by Warren, he didn’t show it, folding his arms and shooting him daggers as he swaggered closer.
A venomous scoff left Eiley. “Kids you haven’t seen in over a year. You don’t get to play that card.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He hadn’t changed at all. Still unable to take accountability, blaming the world for his own mistakes.
And just for a moment, she felt a stab of worry. Had she done that, too, with all the things that had gone wrong recently?
“If I were you, I’d go now. Save Eiley the unnecessary headache,” Warren decided calmly.
Finlay’s feigned confidence soured in an instant. “I don’t think so. Eiley, tell me who the fuck this bloke is. Now.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Warren snapped.
She couldn’t deal with this. Her world was caving in, and she was caught between two men who made her feel too much.
But Finlay was the children’s father, even if she wished he wasn’t. It was the first time he’d made an effort in over a year, and she needed to know why .
She turned to Warren. “I’m sorry. Can you give us a minute?”
Warren’s eyes narrowed. His knuckles brushed hers, but all the friction between them did was drive her further away.
If Finlay found out about them, she’d never hear the end of it.
He’d always been possessive: he didn’t want Eiley, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either.
That was why their breakup had been followed by drunk texts and phone calls at all hours, random visits where she could barely understand what he was saying.
Empty promises, but never “sorry”, so it didn’t matter.
She’d wanted to believe that leaving him would show him what he had to lose – not her, but the kids.
Had hoped that if he didn’t owe her anything, he could focus his attention on being a decent father.
She’d been wrong. He wasn’t made to be a partner or a parent.
Yet she never, ever wanted to keep him from them. Only wanted to protect them. The fact he was sober and at least semi-comprehensible suggested that something had changed. He was closer to being the man she remembered.
Warren’s expression shuttered as realisation set in.
He looked between Finlay and Eiley once, muscle in his jaw flicking, and then ducked his head and left the bookstore with a resolute nod.
A moment later, she heard his van door slam, engine turning on.
She pretended it didn’t split something inside her.
“I see you’ve been keeping yourself entertained while I’ve been gone,” Finlay pointed out tersely. “Has he been spending time with my kids?”
“It isn’t like that, and even if it was, you’d have no right to be upset,” Eiley snapped. “What are you doing here, Finlay? Make it quick, because I don’t have time to waste on your horsepoo today.”
“You still refuse to swear, then.” He smirked as though it was some inside joke; as though she hadn’t told him over and over again not to use vulgar language in front of the kids, not because she minded if they heard a few bad words, but because she didn’t want them to pick up on the poison that usually accompanied them.
She’d made a lot of mistakes as a mum, but they would never, ever see her dissolve into selfish spite and careless tantrums the way Finlay used to.
She would never make her problems theirs.
When Finlay had itched for a fight, she’d always made sure they were in their rooms first, usually asleep.
“Just answer the question,” she ordered with more authority than she felt.