Chapter 16
TOM
The next day, I’m sprawled on Craig’s sofa like a teenager who’s just been told his favourite boyband has split up. Which, honestly, is not far off.
Craig’s making tea in that slow, deliberate way of his, like he’s in an M I didn’t realise how tense I’d been until that moment.
“How are you feeling after last night?” he asks as we sit down.
“Like I survived a Hunger Games trial run,” I say.
He laughs, and I feel absurdly proud for making him laugh. “James can be… intense.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” I say. “He barely said a word, but it was like he was in my head with a megaphone.”
“Look, I probably should have warned you—”
“You think?” I cut in with a laugh.
“I just didn’t want to put you off coming.”
“It wouldn’t have,” I lie.
Pete nods, tracing a circle on the table with his finger. “He struggles with me… exploring the emotional side of things outside the relationship.”
I scrunch my face up. “But you’re in an open relationship though? Isn’t this the whole point?”
Pete nods. “Yes, you’re right. It’s something we both want. But he just finds it more difficult than me.”
“That’s the bit I don’t get,” I say, leaning in. “He has a boyfriend! And you’re meant to feel, what, guilty?”
Pete gives me a small smile. “It’s different when it’s on the other side. For him, anyway. He wasn’t comfortable with it at first. Casual sex he can manage. Romance? That’s harder for him.”
“But then he ended up seeing Sam.”
Pete nods. “Exactly. They have their thing. And I’m happy for him that he has that. And we agreed that I could have the same. But the reality is hard for him, I understand that.”
I don’t even want to suggest this, but I do. “So, should we even be carrying on like this, seeing each other? Should we just cool it for a bit?”
“God, no!” Pete says. “I really want to keep seeing you and getting to know you.” He squeezes my hand as he speaks. “It’ll just take a bit of time for James to adjust. It’s not like we’re going behind his back.”
I can feel my overthinking engine revving up, so I take a sip of my drink to shut it up. “Do you think he even likes me?”
“James doesn’t dislike you,” Pete says quickly. “He just… worries. About me. About us. About everything.”
I nod.
There’s a pause, and I decide to go for it. “Pete, can I ask about Chris?”
He stiffens. “What about him?”
“Sam mentioned him last night. And then it got… weird.”
“Weird?”
“Weird. You all just looked weird and uncomfortable.”
“Well, no one likes talking about exes in front of the new boyfriend. Especially when I hadn’t mentioned him before.”
There’s a temporary burst of joy in my chest as Pete uses the word “boyfriend”, before my brain brings me back into the conversation. “No, I get that.”
“I was angry with Sam for bringing it up. He just loves to stir up trouble.”
He stares into his glass for a long moment. “Anyway, that’s all over now. Chris and I… we were together for two years. And then he… left.”
“Left?”
Pete shrugs. “He went away. Moved. I don’t know, it was all very sudden…” He trails off, swallowing hard.
I want to ask more, but I can see it’s costing him to even say this much. So, I nod, trying to make my face look sympathetic and not like I’m mentally rewriting this as the opening scene of a Netflix documentary.
“Okay,” I say softly. “I get it.” I take a short breath and continue. “I had a close friend, not a boyfriend — Guy.”
Guy. Why am I bringing up Guy?
“A work colleague,” I continue. “We were really close. But then one day, he just wasn’t around anymore.”
“What happened?” Pete asks.
I don’t really want to go into this now.
“Long story, I’ll tell you one day, but I suppose what I’m saying is I know what it’s like when someone leaves your life quickly.”
Pete smiles and places his hand on mine, and the air between us shifts in a good way.
“I really want to make this work with us,” he says quietly. “James just needs a bit of time to come around.”
I nod, heart doing that embarrassing swoopy thing. “I want this too.”
“Then we’ll take our time,” Pete says, grinning. “You’ll win him over.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say, my grin turning smug. “I’m very charming when I want to be. Give me three dinners and a bottle of wine and he’ll be asking me to move in.”
Pete laughs — a proper laugh this time — and I feel something uncoil in my chest.
“Careful,” he says. “He might take you up on that.”
“Perfect,” I reply. “I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a man who stares at me like I’ve broken into his garden.”
We’re both laughing now, and for the first time since last night, it feels easy again.
When we part ways outside, I feel lighter somehow. Like we’ve shifted a weight I didn’t realise I’d been carrying. Not all of it — there are still questions hanging between us like damp washing — but enough that I can breathe again.
Pete gives me a warm smile before heading off in the opposite direction. I watch him go for a moment longer than is probably socially acceptable, then start walking myself, hands shoved deep in my pockets.
I pull out my phone as I reach the corner.
One missed call.
Evelyn.
I hover my thumb over the screen.
She’s calling me now. Shit.
I can’t stop thinking about the blood, her last message said.
I shove the phone away and keep walking. The evening air has that perfect August balance — just warm enough not to need a jacket. The street is quiet, just the occasional car passing, headlights slicing across the pavement.
And then I see him.
Daniel.
He’s standing on the opposite pavement, maybe twenty metres ahead. Head down, hands in his pockets, like he’s just waiting for the lights to change.
He looks up and for a second our eyes connect.
I freeze. A shiver cascades down my neck.
Then a bus moves in front of us, coming to a stop.
But when the bus has gone, so has he.
The pavement is empty.