TWELVE
Kat’s To-Do List
Tent
Sleeping bag
Sleeping pad
Headlamp
Camp chair
Camp table
Lantern
Fairy lights
I did move out of the house. Technically. The day after Liam’s visit, I walked to the little hardware store on the high street. The owner, Ravi, introduced himself. He was a sweet, shy man dressed in a leather apron with Heath Hardware embossed on the front. Ravi helped me pick out what I needed—a tent, a sleeping bag, a headlamp and a lantern. All things suggested when I’d googled “camping essentials”.
For once, I thanked my neurodivergence for allowing me to think outside the box. If anyone asked, I’d say this was genius. Not only had I resolved the issue, but I’d already planned where to pitch my tent so that Liam and the crew wouldn’t see my set-up from the house when they arrived tomorrow.
Ravi helped me with my haul to my Uber. I wasn’t risking walking down the high street and someone recognising me. I’d give it an hour before Liam or Lydia found out. Everyone knew everyone here.
“I hope that’s everything you need. If you think of anything else, just let us know. If there is anything we don’t stock, I can order it for you,” Ravi said warmly.
“Thank you so much, Ravi. I’m sure I’ll be back.”
Almost a week here, I was still shocked to find everyone so welcoming.
Did I love it or hate it?
As I assembled my tent half an hour later, guilt crept in about my “technical manoeuvring” around my agreement with Liam. I should have just asked Sandra and Brian. Deep down, I knew they would welcome me with open arms. But there was something… exposing about the idea of living with them. I didn’t want them to see how late I got up in the morning or how I looked when I doom-scrolled on Instagram when I was overstimulated. I hated the feeling of being watched or on display. It was better this way. I would be comfortable with my own company, even if that comfort were the cold, hard ground.
I rubbed my shoulders as the chilly evening set in. The novelty of the February sun was setting behind a thick blanket of dark grey clouds. On my hands and knees, I climbed into my tent and shuffled into the sleeping bag. I pulled my Kindle out of my bag and did a little wiggle of excitement. This was actually quite cosy. It was the perfect backdrop for the fantasy series with fairies that Willa had recommended. The characters had just begun camping across ancient woods, so I felt immersed in the story. I got to a spicy scene set in a tent, which was very… enlightening when the rain began.
It ’ s fine , I repeated to myself. I’d expected some rain at about seven p.m.
The pitter-patter of the rain was nice anyway—nature’s ASMR.
Twenty minutes in, the gentle pitter-patter morphed into an onslaught, and I couldn’t concentrate on the words on the screen. The rain pelted the tent, and the sound became deafening. I put my hands over my ears.
The wind picked up.
A gale whipped my tent from side to side.
“Fuck,” I shouted when the water began to seep into the tent, which I had to admit was on the cheaper side.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered as I tried to find where the water was coming in. I blocked it with some of the blankets and towels, which worked well .
I sighed and settled back into my sleeping bag. No excited wiggle this time. But it was fine. Everything had a thin layer of mist, but I wasn’t a quitter. No, I was quite determined to prove that my idea was genius, even if it was just to myself.
I frowned when I heard what sounded like a branch breaking.
A wet panel of tent hit my face.
It wasn’t a branch that snapped.
It was one of the tent poles.
“For fuck’s sake!” I shouted as more water began to trickle in. I shoved my boots back on and climbed out, tried to wrestle the tent pole back into shape. I cursed my dad for not teaching me how to camp properly on all those trips to Cornwall or the Cotswolds. He’d always sort everything for me and my mum. We didn’t have to lift a finger.
Rain pelted against my face, and my hair and clothes were soaked. Deep down, I knew that even if I managed to get the tent back up, I would never be able to get dry and warm again.
It was hopeless.
I gave a useless, frustrated cry.
I couldn’t even camp without it turning into a disaster.
The garden lit up, light cutting through the heavy sheets of rain, and then it was extinguished.
Through the rain and darkness, I could see a figure approaching the garden through the side gate, and my heart started to pound quickly. Great, now I was going to be murdered in my own garden.
“Who is that?” I shouted.
“It’s me,” a deep voice shouted back, and my heart sank. I lowered my face into my palm. Fuck . The jig was up.
Liam’s face came into view as he approached the tent, his jaw set. His eyes scanned over me, grazing over my T-shirt that was wet and stuck to my body, and flickered away quickly. His face morphed into a grimace when he took in the pitiful sight of my tent.
“So, this was your big plan, huh?” Liam crossed his arms.
“Do you want to stand there, or do you want to help me?” I shouted back, trying to hold up the broken tent pole. “Have you got any duct tape in your van?”
“You can’t camp out here, Red.”
“It’s fine,” I said while rain ran down the sides of my face. “It will settle down.”
“This is Manchester, remember? It’s kind of known for the rain.”
“That’s a myth. There is more rainfall in Cardiff.”
“Semantics.”
“It’s true. It will be fine. It’s supposed to be heavy for another twenty minutes, then it will be fine.”
“Red—”
“There isn’t even that many centimetres of rainfall due—”
“Get in the van, Red,” Liam growled. “We can debate rainfall statistics when I’m not getting soaked.”
The rain got heavier and joined forces with a gale-force wind. Liam turned on the heel of his boots, heading back for the van.
Was he going to leave me out here?
I made a frustrated noise. I was out of options. I was beginning to shake from the cold. So I gave in and ran after Liam, climbing into the safe harbour of his warm van. The smell of cedar and wood in the air filled my senses. It was tidy. I had a feeling Liam would be tidy. He had the air of someone who had an anal process for everything and would level anyone with a look if they went against his system. He was the opposite of me. I never did the same task the same way. It was partly why I didn’t trust myself to go freelance, even if I could make more money alone. I wouldn’t file my taxes on time, and the HMRC would arrest me. I’d be pulled out of my home, handcuffed. And I’d deserve it.
I glanced at Liam through the wet hair stuck to my forehead. We were both panting and pushing the water off our faces.
Frustration rolled off us in waves.
“How did you know I was here?” I demanded.
“Why are you so stubborn?” Liam’s voice was like thunder. Oh. He was very pissed off. “Next time, slip Ravi a tenner to keep quiet. I overheard him talking in the club about a ‘pretty but clueless’ redhead buying a load of camping equipment, and I put two and two together.”
“Ravi said that?” My mouth fell open. I’d underestimated the man. He’d seemed so lovely. Unassuming.
“Red”—Liam shook his head—“Ravi is the biggest gossip in Everly Heath. He gives Pat a run for her money. I was happy to leave you to it.”
“Then why did you come? Why not just leave me? I would have been fine.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Because you could have hurt yourself. I sat at home, watching the rain come down heavier and heavier, and I—” He stopped. “I didn’t fancy calling the police about a dead body when I came into work tomorrow. I was going to text Lydia or Brian but you said you didn’t want to ask them—” He petered off, running his hand through his wet hair, now jet black. The anger dissipated from his features, now replaced with tiredness. A bone-deep kind of tiredness that I was familiar with. Burnout. Liam was burnt out.
Had he even realised yet?
I reached out; I couldn’t help it. It was like our skin were magnets, and I touched his arm.
“Are you okay?” I asked as Liam’s eyes tracked my movement. His eyes came up to mine, something burning in them—something like anger or frustration.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You seem—like burnt out.”
He laughed humourlessly. “Of course you’d be the one to notice.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned, pulling my arm away.
Liam sighed. “I’m fine, Red. I’m just a bit tired.”
Guilt thrummed through me. I’d given him another burden. Another reason to be tired.
“I know I said I’d sort it”—I rubbed my face, searching for the words to explain—“but I just… I just can’t ask them. And I can’t afford an Airbnb, even with you not charging me for labour. It’s so expensive as it is. I can’t believe how naive I was about the costs.”
When Liam sent over a quote for materials for the project, I had to sit down. I hadn’t realised how the prices had increased massively since the pandemic, and it sent me into another spiral of self-hatred. I was so incredibly unprepared and naive about this project. Luckily, the money from my dad’s estate just about covered it, but with nothing spare left over. I was seriously betting I could make some profit on this house.
It both thrilled and scared the shit out of me.
I lowered my hands. Peeking at Liam, I prayed I saw some semblance of understanding on his face. I literally couldn’t afford to scare him off.
“Okay.” Liam let out a harsh breath. “I’ve got somewhere you can stay. You can’t camp outside for weeks. We’re due rain for the rest of February. And March.”
I swear, the rain bombarding the van was a paid actor.
“You can stay at mine.” He held up a large hand. “Don’t argue with me until I’m finished. I have an annexe in my garden. I built it for my dad during the pandemic. He had a health scare, and I wanted somewhere for him to stay. But he is as stubborn as you, so he has never used it. It has a little kitchen to make food, and you can have the privacy you want.”
My mouth was hanging open unattractively. This was incredibly generous and would resolve my problem, but the thought of seeing Liam every day made me feel a bit… funny. It was like I had pins and needles running down my back. Then, there was the guilt thrumming under my ribcage. I would be a burden. I would be messy. I would probably accidentally break the shower or smash his collection of vintage Charles and Diana mugs from 1996.
“People will talk,” I said .
“Talk about what?”
“Me and you.”
Liam’s eyes were laser-focused on me. “And what would they say, Red?”
“You know—that you and I…” I gestured between us.
“That you and I what?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
“That you and I are, like, together.”
“Together like sat in this van?” he asked.
I made a frustrated noise. “No, like having S-E-X.”
“S-E—” His eyes widened, and he gasped. “Sex!”
The penny dropped. He was mocking me. I rolled my eyes as a wide grin took over his face.
“You’re taking the piss.”
Liam’s laugh filled the van. “You make it so easy.”
“I’m serious, Liam.” I couldn’t help the smile pulling at my lips. “You said people are nosy.”
“No one is going to care.” Liam paused and stared ahead, like he was imagining the conversations he would be having at the social club. “Some people might care. A beautiful woman moving into my house isn’t particularly normal—”
My eyes widened. Beautiful. He’d said beautiful. Liam turned to look at me.
“Did you just call me beautiful?” I laughed. “Does that line usually work?”
“It wasn’t a line, Red.”
I scoffed. “Okay.”
“I’m serious. I don’t make a habit of hitting on women I’m asking to move in with me.” Liam ran his hand through his hair. “ Nothing like that is going to happen.”
I flinched at the serious tone that took over Liam’s voice.
Liam’s gaze bore into me. “I want you to know that you’ll be safe living in the annexe. I won’t try it on.”
“Oh.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t disappointed. I’d gone from being called beautiful to being completely off-limits. Great. He clearly didn’t fancy me, which was fine. It made things a lot simpler. There was no chance of anything happening.
“Are you sure? I’m not going to be in the way?”
“No more than usual,” he said with a smile, an attempt at lightening the mood, I was sure.
“If you are sure and only if you are sure. It would be really helpful, thank you. But I want to pay you something.” He protested, but I shut him down. “Please, just let me pay for utilities.”
“Lydia mentioned you’re a graphic designer. That’s why you were so offended by these.” Liam leaned forward, pulled a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to me. My nose wrinkled at the boring black card.
“So boring,” I muttered under my breath.
“You’re the expert. So you can pay me back by redesigning the logo and get me some new business cards.”
I waved it in front of his face. “You have to admit, they are boring.”
Liam levelled me a dry look, but his lips lifted slightly.
“We’re builders. All of our work is by word of mouth. Handing you that card was the first time I’ve ever used one of those cards. And that was only because I was worried if I didn’t provide you with my ID, you’d throw another lamp at me.”
A burst of laughter came out of me at the memory.
“I didn’t have any more lamps to throw. I am lampless.”
“Just as well,” he muttered. “I think I’ve still got the bruise from the last one.”
“Baby,” I crooned, and surprise flooded Liam’s features at the word, his ears going pink. What… what was that about? It arrived as quickly as it was gone.
“Redesign the logo, and we’re even.”
Excitement bubbled. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll design a complete rebrand. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s sufficiently manly.”
Liam laughed. “It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever you give me. Have you got everything you need?” He nodded to the mess of my collapsed tent.
I groaned. “My stuff’s in the tent. It’s probably soaking now.”
“Wait here, I’ll go and get it.”
Liam jumped out of the van and returned to the tent with most of my belongings. Liam was clearly an “acts of service” kind of man. I’d always wondered what it would be like to meet one of those. I’d always dated guys who could say lovely, honeyed words but then would inform the barman that we were paying for our drinks separately. Liam seemed the type to pay the whole bill and help you move a sofa into your apartment on a Saturday afternoon. He wouldn’t spiral when you asked if he would come to your cousin’s wedding. He was an all-in kind of guy.
He didn’t do casual, which was a shame because casual was all I could offer.
I shook my head, berating myself. I wasn’t offering anything. Like Liam said, it wasn’t going to happen.
Climbing back into the van, Liam had rain glistening on his cheeks.
“I couldn’t rescue the blankets and towels, but I’ve got some you can use.”
Liam started the van and pulled off the drive, his words giving me a zip of excitement. I was going to see where Liam lived. He was still a bit of a mystery to me. I imagined the last bachelor pad I’d visited—a loser guy on Tinder. I’d taken a chance on him and had been bitterly disappointed when morning rolled around. I left his eerily bare apartment in the same clothes from the night before and a green shoot of regret in my stomach, adding a new branch to my deep-rooted self-hatred.
“Do you have navy sheets?” My thought-to-mouth speed was incredibly fast.
Liam arched an eyebrow. “You want to know what colour sheets I have?”
“No! Not like that. It’s a thing. Men have navy sheets. I saw it as a joke online, and then it was confirmed by pretty much all the guys I’ve met on Tinder.” My eyes widened. “Not that I’ve hooked up with a load of men on Tinder. I don’t go home with them until I know they won’t murder me in my sleep. I’ve listened to too many true crime podcasts.” I stopped myself, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that was a lot.”
Liam chuckled as we stopped at the red lights. “No, I don’t have any navy sheets. I have white ones.”
“Shocking. I had you pegged for a navy sheet man.”
Liam glanced over at me. “Disappointed? ”
“Not at all; it gives me hope. One guy used empty booze bottles as decor and Fairy Liquid as a body wash.”
Liam shook his head. “A serial killer.”
“I know, right!”
“I’ve got proper shower gel.”
“Phew.”
“It’s five-in-one.”
I groaned. “Take me back to the tent. Please!”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Let’s not joke about the tent.”
“Too soon?”
“Too soon.”