24 Everleigh From Finner—Of Monsters and Men
Everleigh
From Finner—Of Monsters and Men
“Thank you all for coming tonight. It’s my pleasure to open our newest collection to the public. This is Hawkthorpe of olde, a look back in time.”
Myriad champagne, wine, and beer glasses raise to clink together in celebration. At the front of the mezzanine room, Elias smiles broadly, soaking in the atmosphere for his big toast.
“Cheers!”
“Woo-hoo!”
“Congrats, Elias!”
A cacophony of voices washes over me, creating a loud roar.
So many people have turned out for his grand opening, including Cassidy, Jen from the bakery, and Abbie with her goofball son Liam who run the florist shop.
He seemed friendly, exchanging banter with the guys and cracking toothy grins that would enchant any woman.
Even old man Melville, the shrivelled librarian who introduced himself with an elaborate hand kiss, has ventured out of his retirement to support Elias.
Though I was surprised to see Piper here.
She made the effort to travel home from Scotland to support her uncle.
Maverick threatened to cause a scene when he saw her glassy eyes, all spaced out from necking a few too many complimentary drinks.
Curling his arm around my waist, Sterling plants a kiss on top of my head before taking a swig of his beer. I’m balancing my wine glass in one hand to keep my fingers interlinked with Fletcher’s shaking paw. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long in a jam-packed room.
Touching them both out in public like this would usually be too risky, and I don’t want everyone knowing our business. But after what we shared back at the cottage, I want them close. That way I can savour the memory of them claiming me like my body isn’t enough proof.
“You doing okay?” I whisper to him.
Jaw ticking, Fletcher nods tersely.
“We can step outside if you need a breather. You don’t have to put on a brave face for me.”
Fletcher mouths back, “Later.”
“Okay, just nudge me if you need a break.”
He winks back at me in agreement.
I squeeze his fingers in solidarity, fit to burst with pride. Coming out tonight marks huge progress for him. It’s still early days, and he’s only just commenced this part of his rehabilitation journey, but something has shifted in him since I revealed my secret.
I’m glad.
Excavating my shrivelled soul did something good.
Coming back from a bar run, Leo hands out a fresh round of drinks, ditching our empties on a spare table. He watches me shift uncomfortably on my feet, then ducks his head to brush the shell of my ear with his lips.
“Sore?”
“A little,” I admit.
“Based on what I overheard, I’m surprised you’re walking at all.”
“Jealous?”
“More like curious,” he whispers back.
“Is that so?”
“Next time, give us a heads up when you’re going to have a bathroom orgy. I’ll reserve a front-row ticket.”
“Who said it’s open to the public?”
“I’m not just any old riff-raff, sweetheart.”
Lightly nibbling my neck, he plants a teasing kiss, then straightens. If I wasn’t already aching, I’d consider getting the hell out of here to show him exactly what he missed.
“Leo,” Sterling scolds. “Stop teasing her.”
“What?” He holds his hands up. “Only you’re allowed to do that?”
“It’s not a tease if you follow through . . . and I always do.”
On my right, Fletcher inhales sharply, holding back a peal of laughter. Sterling narrows his eyes, reaching over me to thump him in the shoulder.
“Fuck off,” he grunts.
Still Fletcher’s smile blazes. It’s beautiful.
Our host filters through his guests, answering questions about the newly unveiled landscapes and directing them towards Maverick for any purchases. He’s playing the role of his uncle’s salesman tonight, placing reserved stickers on canvases and taking contact details.
From across the room, I blow Maverick a kiss. He makes a point of capturing it and grinning back at me before someone else gets his attention with another question. I’m used to seeing him in his element in the kitchen, but he’s just as good at working a crowd.
“I’ve never seen this place so busy,” Sterling comments. “It’s great.”
“Elias deserves it,” Leo agrees.
“It looks like they’re going to sell out at this rate. He’d better start painting again.”
“I’m happy for him,” I add, watching Elias schmooze. “He’s talented and deserves the recognition.”
Nuzzling my hair, Sterling studies the packed-out room. “Was his work this popular at the gala where you met him?”
An icy flash crackles over me. “Uh, yes.”
“What did you buy from him?” Leo turns his back on the crowd to face us. “And where is it?”
“In storage,” I quickly lie.
“You didn’t bring all your stuff when you left London?” Sterling frowns.
“No, I left in a rush. I still have stuff back . . . there.”
Swallowing the word home feels like chewing an angry hornet set on stinging my gullet. That hell-hole was never my home. But there’s no escaping the fact that I left my entire life behind when I fled.
“You don’t want to make some permanent arrangements?” Leo toys with his beer glass, appearing on edge. “Bring the rest of your stuff to our place?”
“Mm,” I hum around a wedge of anxiety.
“Or not.”
“It’s not that, Leo. I just . . . I have a lot to figure out.”
“What’s there to figure out?” He studies my reaction.
“Plenty. It’s complicated.”
“Well, we can’t help unless we know exactly what’s so complicated about it.”
“Leo,” I hush. “Don’t do this again.”
“I’m not doing anything. Just having a conversation.”
“And it’s not the right time for it.”
The hand cupping mine clenches tight. Fletcher knows exactly why I’m so cagey. I have to tell the other two—lying to them is killing me. But the fear of shattering this illusion and losing everything is all consuming.
“You okay, love?” Sterling removes his arm to peer down at me.
“Yes, of course.”
“You’ve gone pale. Don’t listen to him, there’s no rush to decide anything permanent. We’re not putting any pressure on you to make a decision.”
“I’m not putting pressure on her,” Leo protests.
“Aren’t you?” Sterling argues back.
“I just want her to be comfortable and have all her stuff. This isn’t a temporary living arrangement anymore, she should just move in officially.”
“Enough, Leo. You’re doing that thing where you stick your nose in again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You don’t even see it, do you?” Sterling snaps. “But this is meddling.”
His face falls, allowing fatal blades of pain to shred his facade. “Sorry for wanting more. Excuse me.”
“Wait!” I reach for him, catching air when he steps back.
“Forget I said anything. I’d hate to be accused of actually caring.”
Leo turns fast to leave us, easily blending into the crowd. Releasing Fletcher’s hand, I move to chase after him until Sterling catches my wrist to halt me.
“Let him cool off, Eden. He’s afraid of losing you.”
“Then why make it ten times worse by shutting him down?” My wrist wrenches free from his grip. “You know his triggers better than anyone.”
“I was trying to make him understand,” Sterling justifies.
“By making him feel unwanted?”
“By giving you time to make this decision yourself, not when one of us forces it. Leo needs to learn some boundaries when it comes to how he cares.”
“Then trust me to say if that’s what I want! How about allowing me that decision, huh?”
Wincing, Sterling lowers his hand. “Sorry.”
“I’m going to find him and fix this.”
He gives Fletcher a headshake that enables me to chase after Leo without being followed. My feet twang from the heeled boots—I’m not used to them after a few months without practice—but I still wade through the crowd.
“You see Leo?” I call to Maverick.
Mid-conversation with Liam, he focuses on me. “He isn’t with you?”
“Never mind.”
“You okay, Eden?”
“Fine! Don’t worry.”
The mezzanine level is full, but I scan far enough to spot Leo’s fauxhawk retreating downstairs. Pushing through the hubbub to follow costs me precious time. By the time I battle downstairs, he’s nowhere in sight. Shit, I bet he ducked outside for air.
“Leo?” I break outside to yell his name.
The cobbled street is quiet at this time of night. No sign of him. I don’t think he’d be upset enough to go home, not on Maverick and Elias’s big night. He must be out here somewhere.
“Leo!”
Arms curled over my stomach, I slowly walk down the street, blending into the darkness. Despite the odd street light, it’s blindingly dark. Not even the gallery’s glow can fully illuminate the night.
“Hey, Leo! Come out!”
At the end of the street, the cobblestones branch off into the desolate town square. There’s a collection of benches at the centre, shrouded in shadows cast by a large, billowing oak tree. Wait . . . no. Two figures are sitting on the bench.
“Leo?” I call out.
One shifts, acknowledging my shout. I watch them rise from the bench and turn to face me. It’s Leo. In the gloom, I can still recognise his outline. Relief swarms over me.
As I near, the sleek shadow looming behind him also rises. My relief soon shatters apart, transforming into the slow drip, drip, drip of dread leaking into every mental crevice.
Leo takes one step towards me, then crashes to his knees, a hand clasped over the side of his neck. The figure behind him remains unmoved without a hint of concern for the man collapsing in front of him.
“No,” I gasp in shock. “Leo!”
The screaming voice in my head doesn’t hold a candle to the horror that’s bloomed into poison ivy. Instead of bolting, I run towards the black-clad figure standing over Leo, railing against every survival instinct I have left.
“Leave him alone! Please!”
“Eden,” he moans weakly, his limbs spreadeagled.
Skidding to a halt brings me to my knees at his side. “Are you okay?”
Leo’s lips flop and his head lolls, matching the slack muscles in his face. Tiny slits peer up at me where his eyes usually reside. When his hand falls from his neck, I can make out a thin blood trail, emanating from a bruising circle.
Needle mark.
“Run,” he wheezes, then goes limp.