Chapter Twenty-Four
Jules
“We’re going to lie down.”
I nod.
As if by magic, I’m lying down. Cillian’s face is difficult to make out under the lean-to. I concentrate harder.
“Good job keeping your attention on me,” Cillian says. “You can take a break.”
I waver. What does a “break” mean? I should stop looking at him? Or stop paying attention to him?
“Come here.”
I go to him. He guides my face against his throat, where I feel his warm, beating pulse. It’s too fast, but his hand is steady as he strokes my head. His calmness settles over me.
I listen to him breathe, waiting for instructions. I won’t be caught unawares. I realise, after a long time, that the instruction isn’t verbal. It’s in the calm stroking of my hair, the pressure of his chin on the top of my head, his thumb rubbing against the back of my hand.
Calm.
I breathe deeply. My lungs seize as if they’ve been bereft of air.
I grow aware of the buzzing in my head. It’s like static and hard to think around.
When I pull free of it, I get the sense that many hours have passed.
My throat is tight, and it hurts to swallow.
Pain throbs through my shoulder. A headache replaces the static.
Cillian is stretched out next to me. I’m guided against him, but nothing is holding me there by force. There’s strength in his broad shoulders, but they’re for leaning my weight against. His hands are large and sturdy, strength controlled for comfort.
“When I was fifteen, my friends and I were learning to drive,” I say, my voice croaky.
“I passed the theory test and had enough money saved for the lessons. The problem came after. You need a guardian in the car with you to practice, but at the home where I lived then, neither of the caretakers had licences themselves. My friends all practised with their parents, it wasn’t even a…
consideration. I lost my parents when I was eleven, but that was the first time I realised I didn’t have a safety net the way others did.
That things like having someone to sit next to me while I practised driving weren’t a given, and they never would be. ”
Cillian listens. I hear a rustle behind me. Mathieu, stirring. He’s awake too.
“That feeling,” I say. “That’s how I feel right now.” It’s this mixture of intense vulnerability, of loss, of realisation. There’s fear in it too. This…unfairness. That everyone else has something I don’t. “That feeling when I realised I was alone.”
I sit up.
The fire is burning low. Seán’s feet poke out from beneath his lean-to. The surrounding trees are full of shadows, humming with insects. Our island of plenty, that nobody can find.
Cillian’s hand brushes my side.
“Darren filled that gap. Someone I could call if my car broke down, or I needed to borrow fifty euro, or who I called to grab Lemsip if I was sick and didn’t want to leave the bed.
” And in exchange, I ignored the jealousy.
The outbursts of anger. The way my presence wore down his nerves, even when I wasn’t doing anything.
“I should have left him ages ago.” I’m barely speaking above a whisper. “But I didn’t want to lose home base.”
“You don’t need to justify yourself, Jules. He’s the one in the wrong,” Cillian says. “And if your car breaks down, or you need to borrow fifty euro, or you’re sick and want someone to bring you medicine, call me. I’ll be that person, if you like.”
I turn and meet his eyes. There isn’t pity, but the same steadiness I’ve felt in his hands all night. The same steadiness he’s had since day one.
“My brother’s a mechanic,” Mathieu says, “and France uses euros, and my dad’s a doctor, so it is probably better to call me.
” He sits up. I turn to him, finding dark, serious eyes focused on my face.
“I know I am not a survival expert, and I’m not the first person to volunteer myself for leadership roles, but I am reliable.
Just because I flirt and joke doesn’t mean I don’t take things seriously. ”
I think I could call either of them and they’d come.
Mathieu’s expression softens. Can he read the belief in my eyes? He reaches out, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of my face. “I know you have a driving licence. What did you do for practice?”
“I looked up the youth support groups in the city and called a few of them. They sent out two volunteers every weekend for me to practice with.” Those days had been nerve-wracking at first, but the volunteers were lovely.
Cillian sighs. I frown in his direction.
“Don’t worry.” Mathieu presses against my side. “That’s his ‘I’m attracted to you’ sigh.”
“That…was a sexy story?”
Cillian mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. He continues in a louder voice. “Obviously it isn’t a sexy story. It sounds like you had it rough, and I’m sorry for that—”
“It was a turned-on sigh,” Mathieu insists.
“I’m banning you from the lean-to if you don’t stop.”
Mathieu pushes even more against my side, avoiding my sore shoulder. “It’s Jules’s lean-to.”
Cillian glares. But the quality of it has me giving Cillian a doubtful look. His reaction makes it feel like Mathieu’s striking a nerve, not just throwing out random accusations. Cillian must read the doubt in my face.
“It’s the fact that you figured out a solution,” Cillian says. “You met a roadblock, and rather than sitting there and letting it get the better of you, you took the initiative to do something about it. It’s an attractive trait.”
“I’m very impressed that you called. I would have got my friend to make the call for me,” Mathieu says. “I could be in a car crash, and I wouldn’t call the emergency services. I’d text my dad my address and what happened, and make him do it.”
“If your brother is fixing my car, I can call the emergency line for you,” I say.
“Will you be my boyfriend too?”
“Mathieu, now isn’t the time,” Cillian says, before I register the question. He sounds genuinely cross.
“Jules says you don’t know if you don’t ask,” Mathieu shoots back.
Cillian sits up, scowling. “You’re not so dense you can’t figure out why this is the worst situation to ask something like that. He’s just been assaulted by his ex, and the story he just shared about—”
I put up a hand to stop Cillian. “Don’t fight, please.” I turn to Mathieu, who looks chastised and guilty. “I don’t think I should be making decisions right now. I’m not… I’m not steady.”
Cillian is quiet and tense, and I know from the look Mathieu shoots him, followed by the way he shrinks, that Cillian’s glaring.
“Sorry,” Mathieu murmurs.
I kiss him on the mouth. Chaste, but long enough that he can taste forgiveness. “It’s okay,” I say softly, aiming to be quiet enough for privacy between us. “I’m not angry. And I’m not rejecting you.”
“I want you, Jules. Very badly.” Mathieu cups my face, thumb stroking across my cheek. “Enough to be mean about it. Certainly enough to be desperate.” He returns a soft kiss. “Forgive me?”
“Of course.”
When we pull apart, Cillian is fixing an intense, unhappy look on Mathieu. I put my hand on his tattooed arm. “Can I have more painkillers?”
Cillian nods. Mathieu makes for the exit. “I’ll get them, since I’m very reliable. And if someone is sick, they could call me from bed and I’ll be right there.”
“I swear to God I will boot you,” Cillian growls.
Mathieu darts away.
“He’s just playing. You shouldn’t get angry with him.”
“I don’t think he is playing. He shouldn’t be—”
“You did the same thing, Cillian,” I interrupt.
Cillian looks taken aback. He faces me, dumbfounded.
“You’ll be ‘that’ person, if I like?” I remind him.
Cillian has an expression like it hadn’t occurred to him what that offer actually meant.
“You did the same thing, so don’t be mean to Mathieu. He just phrased it differently to you.”
At length, Cillian sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
If I had called Darren out like that, I would have got a wildly different reaction.
I note the difference to myself, but move past it.
I don’t want to think about Darren. I take the painkillers that Mathieu brings, which hurt to swallow, and I lie back down.
I’ve been up half the night, but my body won’t let me sleep. My mind won’t be quiet.
“Tell me about your exes,” I request.
Neither Mathieu nor Cillian speak. I glance at Mathieu, the more open of the two. Mathieu has his lip caught between his teeth and releases it when I turn towards him. “I haven’t ever dated anyone,” he admits.
I can’t help my surprise. “But you’re so experienced?”
Mathieu shifts in place, clearly embarrassed.
“I practised with my friend when I was a teenager, and I’ve hooked up regularly since starting college.
I’ve had some casual partners, but never a boyfriend.
People have asked me out, but I never wanted to go steady.
I…erm… I don’t know how to describe this.
I could tell that even if I liked them, I would never fall in love with them. ”
That was a far greater confession than I’d been expecting, especially if I’m interpreting it right.
Mathieu thought I was different from the others he’d met before?
That he could see himself loving me, not just liking me?
My cheeks grow hot. I’m tempted to revise my earlier “ask me later” for an immediate yes.
“This probably sounds odd,” Mathieu continues, “but I’m very picky. Always have been.” Mathieu reaches over me to nudge Cillian. “Your turn.”
I let Mathieu deflect and turn in Cillian’s direction.
“My girlfriend dumped me last month.”
“You were the one dumped?” I ask, incredulous.
“I can see it,” Mathieu adds.
Cillian fixes Mathieu with an intense look. The kind that would have me going completely still if it found me on the other end, and likely have my shorts getting tight. Mathieu rests his chin on my arm and stares back, grinning.