Chapter 27
Warren was summoned back to the bookshop two afternoons later by a flat text asking if they could talk.
He arrived bearing pumpkin spice lattes, a last, fruitless attempt to show Eiley he cared.
He clung to a shred of hope that she’d told that slimy ex of hers where to shove it.
He hadn’t liked the bloke at all, and not just because he’d laid into Warren like he’d been the one with no right to be there.
Finlay had an unsettling air about him, a way of saying the right things without much conviction.
Leaving them together alone had left Warren sick with worry, but he knew better than to get involved.
He’d wanted to respect her boundaries more than he’d wanted – and he’d wanted, fiercely – to protect her.
As he let himself in, he found new flooring under his boots: a smooth walnut wood that offered a homely rusticity to the place.
The walls had been painted the same forest-green as the van he remembered seeing parked outside a few days ago.
It was a place to sink into, even empty.
A place he wanted to curl up in even if books felt like a language he didn’t speak.
Then again, that was probably more to do with the woman crouched over a box of flat pack furniture, surrounded by black slabs that he assumed were shelves.
He made his way over, placing down the drinks before taking a seat opposite her on the floor. Her palm was marked red from the Allen key she clenched in clumsy fingers.
“Let me,” he offered gently.
Stubbornly, she shook her head, and he puffed out his frustration.
Seeing as she hadn’t looked at him yet, he assumed this was the beginning of the end – a fact he should have been fine with, considering how little time they’d spent together.
And yet he’d lay extra-long in bed this morning because his sheets still smelled like her, his hands wrapped around his cock as he remembered how she’d cried his name, sound muffled by her delicious thighs around his ears.
How she’d been wet and tight as he’d slotted into her like a missing puzzle piece.
How spilling into the condom, her walls clenching around him and nails curling into his back, had offered a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in years and years, leaving him dazed and senseless and satisfyingly, unexpectedly full.
He wasn’t ready to lose it. He’d only just got it, for Christ’s sake.
Roughly, he nudged her free hand away from the shelf so that he could hold it steady for her, and finally, the screw twisted in. “It won’t be long until you’re up and running again.”
“Still feels like there’s so much to do.” She let the shelf rest on its side and finally turned and locked eyes onto his face.
He recognised that same hollow exhaustion she’d worn on the night of the flood.
It was worse, now, somehow, because that fight she’d carried then, if only for him, was nowhere to be found.
His gut felt like an old building crumbling in on itself, chunks of debris cutting through his weakest spots and pinning him down.
“You’ll get there,” he forced out, because if she was about to let him go, he wouldn’t let her see what it did to him. What she had done to him.
“I’m really sorry that you got caught in the middle of my mess the other day,” she began. “I don’t even know how he found out I’d be here. Maybe one of his old mates or something.”
“You don’t need to apologise for him. As long as you’re okay.”
“I haven’t told anybody yet. If you could just … keep it to yourself?”
“Of course. None of my business, is it?”
“Well, it probably is a wee bit your business after …” She trailed off, rubbing her brow like the little patch of dry skin above it was the source of all her problems. Warren wondered what she’d do if he kissed her now.
If he told her that she was all he thought about, that they deserved a chance to explore this properly.
He didn’t care that she was a single mother.
Didn’t care about her history with Finlay.
If anything, he thought the world of her kids.
He’d never hurt them, never entangle them in any messes they might make along the way.
Would it make a difference? Did he even have a right? It was her family, her life. Perhaps he was just another obstacle in it.
So he leaned back on his palms, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “If there’s something you need to tell me, Eiley, can you just do it quickly?”
Eiley twanged her hairband against her wrist. The urge to stop her rushed over him, afraid all of that fidgeting she did – the nail biting and the skin picking – would hurt her if she kept going.
But he was afraid to reach out, afraid of the rejection encroaching over him.
He could feel it already, a shadow creeping around his shoulders.
If she was going to hurt him, he’d rather it be a quick rip of the bandage.
Let him keep his bloody useless pride intact.
“Finlay wants to give it another try,” she whispered finally.
Of course he did. He’d realised what he’d lost, and rightly so. Except any decent man would never throw it away to begin with.
He couldn’t let her see that her words had punched a hole in him. She had enough people to look after already. “And what do you want?”
“It isn’t really about me. I want my kids to have a father.”
“So you’re going back to him.”
“No! No, I’m not. I’d never do that to myself again.” The but hung thick in the air for seconds, minutes, like she really was intent on prolonging Warren’s suffering. “But I have to give him a chance to be a decent dad.”
She didn’t have to give that bastard anything, but the protest stuck on his tongue. Not my choice, not my fucking business . Still, a drip of bitterness escaped. “So the first time was just a test run, eh? I didn’t know that was how parenting worked.”
“He struggled with a lot of things, back then. He seems to be doing better now. Getting himself sorted out.”
Warren’s lip twisted in disgust. He couldn’t believe she was defending him.
He doubted he knew even half of what she’d gone through because of him, and yet she could sit here and find excuses.
Tell Warren, who tried and tried and tried to be a good man, that the shitebag who’d abandoned them deserved the benefit of the doubt.
God, what had he ever been thinking, letting himself dream about a life with a woman like her? Too complicated, too fucking honourable to ever put herself first.
Yet he couldn’t regret it. Not after the other day. Not after he’d feasted on her over and over, and she’d kissed his scars like they were beautiful instead of grotesque proof of the moment he’d lost everything.
At his expression, Eiley’s features hardened to something unrecognisable.
“I’m sure it’s very easy to sit there and judge me, as someone who doesn’t have kids.
You’ve probably never even had a serious relationship.
You live in a van, for god’s sake! You don’t get to decide if he’s a decent father when you’re not even close to being one yourself! ”
Warren worked his jaw, trying to keep the truth buried down. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to see him as anything more than – what was it? A sleazy jobsworth ?
No , he thought, standing up. If she was going to end this, she’d do it knowing him for real.
Not all of him, but at least most. “I’m living in my van because it’s the only way I can afford to build that house you saw yesterday.
” His voice was low, sour. “Because, despite what you think, I want to have a family one day. I want to be a husband and a father. And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.
I’ll want it all, and I’ll never fuck it up.
And believe me, I’d do a much better fucking job of it than him . ”
He clambered to his feet, wondering how she had managed to leave him so blisteringly exposed. He was so sick of her seeing him as something he wasn’t.
Eiley blinked up at him, at a loss. “Warren …”
“And since we’re back to trying to hurt each other,” he continued, the venom spewing out now, “I’ll tell you what you already know: you’re making a mistake.
You deserve better than that tosser, and so do your kids.
You talk about failing them? This is failing them.
No good man would abandon his family the way he did.
But I guess I don’t know anything about that, aye?
I’m just an insignificant shagger who lives in a van. ”
She hopped to her feet to argue, but he wasn’t done.
He leaned in, his touch feather-light over the strained hinge of her jaw.
He saw the muscles leap there, proof that somewhere, deep down, her body was linked to his.
“And I bet he’s never touched you the way I have, has he?
He can’t have done. You acted as though you’d never felt anything like it before.
Like you’d never had someone between your thighs, paying attention, wanting to make you feel so fucking good you can’t think straight. ”
Her eyes flared, and she stepped back with new, devastating repulsion. He probably deserved it.
“It isn’t anything to do with that. What we did the other day has no impact on my decision. You have no impact on my decision!”
“Aye, that much is clear.” Defeat rang in his ears. There was nothing left to say, no more ways of making her see what was right in front of her. “Good luck with it all, Eiley. I truly hope for the kids’ sakes that he doesn’t fuck it all up.”
She scoffed. “Just get out. Don’t fucking come back.”
Warren paused.
Eiley didn’t swear. She got angry, said things that peeled away his own patience, but she didn’t cuss .
Was that how much she despised him? How much she truly meant it?
His nod was stiff with finality. He stormed towards the door, braving one last look when he clutched the doorknob. She didn’t deign to catch his eye, her glare set on the shiny new floorboards.
Fine. If this was what she wanted, he’d run out of reasons to change her mind.