Braver Together (Together Forever in Fellside #2)

Chapter 1

Phil

The pub is louder than usual, the kind of loud that vibrates through the wood of the table and settles somewhere behind my eyes.

England is playing, which means half of Fellside has crammed itself into The Cricketers, pints in hand and opinions ready.

Every near miss earns a collective groan.

Every promising run forward pulls everyone to the edge of their seats like we can influence the outcome through sheer emotional investment.

I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my pint, letting the bitter taste ground me.

It’s been one of those days where nothing stays fixed.

I spent the morning repairing a leaking gutter at Fellside Manor, only to discover the water had rotted through half the fascia board.

Then a door refused to close properly. Then a radiator decided it had lived a full and meaningful life and wanted to retire without notice.

Being the handyman for the National Trust property just outside the village means I am the person everything breaks for. Most days, I like it. I like solving problems. I like the quiet satisfaction of putting something back into working order.

Today, though, everything fought back.

What I need now is this. A pint. Noise that isn’t directed at me. And maybe, if the football gods feel generous, an England win.

Beside me, Alex’s typing on his phone with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He hasn’t reacted to the match once. Not when England nearly scored. Not when the referee made a questionable call. Nothing.

“You’re not even watching,” I say.

“I am,” he replies automatically, without looking up.

He isn’t.

I’ve known Alex long enough to recognise the difference.

We met five years ago, halfway up Scafell Pike in weather that had no business existing outside disaster films. We’d both underestimated the forecast. By the time the storm hit, visibility had vanished and turning back wasn’t an option.

We ended up sheltering behind the same outcrop of rock, two strangers pretending not to be relieved we weren’t alone.

There’s something about shared discomfort that cuts through social awkwardness. By the time the storm passed, we weren’t strangers anymore.

Now he’s my closest friend. My climbing partner. My teammate in Fellside Mountain Rescue.

He’s also the exact opposite of me in most social situations.

Where I hesitate, he moves.

Where I think, he acts.

Where I disappear into the background, he fills the room without trying.

The smile on his face grows slightly.

“Emma?” I ask.

That gets his attention. He glances up, caught.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

Emma changed him. Before her, Alex treated relationships like temporary arrangements. Nothing serious. Nothing lasting. Then she walked into his life and, somehow, his priorities shifted.

I’m happy for him. Truly.

He deserves someone who sees him clearly.

Still, it means she’s around more.

And where Emma goes, Christina tends to follow.

The thought alone tightens something low in my stomach.

I take another sip of my pint, focusing on the condensation on the glass. The way it gathers. The way it falls. Predictable. Manageable.

Unlike her.

Christina exists at a volume I don’t understand.

She moves through the world like it belongs to her. Like every space is somewhere she has the right to stand. She laughs loudly. Talks easily. Looks people directly in the eye.

Looks me directly in the eye.

It’s not that she’s intimidating.

It’s that she sees me.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

“Emms will be here in a minute,” Alex says, confirming my suspicion. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I shrug. “No.”

Because what else am I going to say?

He studies me for a second like he knows I’m lying, then lets it go.

I try to focus on the match. I really do. But my attention keeps slipping towards the door every time it opens. Every time cold air rushes in with the next arrival.

Then she walks in.

Emma first, scanning the room until she spots us. And behind her—

Christina.

She’s wearing dark jeans and a loose jumper that slips off one shoulder, exposing warm brown skin that catches the light. Her hair falls in thick waves, streaked with muted lilac that shouldn’t work but somehow does. It frames her face, draws attention to her dark eyes.

She sees me looking.

And she smiles.

It hits like stepping too close to the edge of something high.

Emma reaches Alex and he immediately pulls her onto his lap, like gravity works differently for them. She laughs, protesting weakly, but settles against him easily, naturally.

Christina steps closer.

“Hey, Bambi.”

Her voice is warm. Teasing. Familiar.

Before I can react, she rests her hand briefly on my shoulder. Casual contact. Nothing dramatic.

Except my entire body notices.

Every nerve ending seems to turn towards her.

“Someone’s in my seat,” she says lightly, glancing at the crowded chairs.

There isn’t space.

Not unless—

She doesn’t hesitate.

She sits on my lap.

The world narrows instantly.

My hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to go. Not touching her feels deliberate. Touching her feels impossible.

She smells faintly of citrus and something softer underneath. Something warm.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asks.

She’s close enough that I can see the tiny scar just above her eyebrow. Close enough that I can feel the heat of her through both our clothes.

I try to answer.

Nothing comes out.

She grins, entirely unbothered by my silence, and reaches forward to steal a chip from my plate.

“Oh, thank god. I’m starving.”

She eats it without ceremony, completely at ease.

My heart is beating too fast.

I am aware of everything. The weight of her. The warmth of her thigh against mine. The way her fingers rest briefly at the back of my neck for balance.

The rest of the pub fades.

There is only her.

She picks up another chip and holds it out to me.

“Open.”

I stare at it.

Then at her.

Her eyes soften slightly, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do.

I shake my head because I’m not sure if I will be able to swallow anything.

“Be a good boy and open,” she coos like I’m five years old.

I open my mouth on command.

She feeds the chip to me.

Her fingers brush my lower lip.

It lasts less than a second.

It stays much longer.

She laughs quietly, like she’s pleased with herself, and stands, moving away as easily as she arrived.

Air returns to my lungs.

The world expands again.

I swallow hard to force the chip down.

“Bambi,” she says over her shoulder, settling into a chair beside Emma that just freed up, “you really need to relax.”

Relax.

Like this is something I’m choosing.

I stare down at my food, appetite gone.

“Mate,” Alex murmurs beside me. “You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“She likes you,” he says simply.

I let out a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh.

If that were true, I wouldn’t feel like this.

Like I’m standing too close to something that could change everything.

Like one wrong move would break it.

Across the table, Christina glances at me again.

Our eyes meet.

She gives me a big grin.

Not teasing this time.

Something else.

Something softer.

It’s too much.

I finish my drink in one swallow and stand.

“I need to go.”

Alex sighs. “Phil—”

“I promised Grampy I’d drop some magazines off.”

It’s not entirely a lie.

He studies me, seeing through it anyway.

“You can’t keep running.”

I don’t answer.

Because running is the only thing I know how to do.

I risk one last glance at her before I leave.

She’s watching me.

And for a moment, disappointment flickers across her face before she replaces it with that same easy smile.

Like she expected this.

Like she’s already forgiven me for it.

That somehow makes it worse.

I step outside into the cold night air, lungs finally filling properly.

Behind me, the pub roars as England miss another chance to score.

But all I can hear is the echo of her voice in my head.

Bambi.