Chapter 33
According to Maggie, there wasn’t supposed to be anybody in the bookstore this evening, which was why Warren had asked her to keep the door unlocked earlier.
It was ridiculous and probably wrong, but if the ex cocked up Eiley and the kids’ weekend away, he wanted to make sure at least some pieces of her happiness were put back together by the time she returned.
Besides, she really wasn’t very good at assembling shelves.
Only, when he stepped into the darkness of a supposedly empty Thorn & Thistle, an “Oi!” pierced through him, and he was confronted with a heavy hardback flying at his head.
He ducked just in time, squealing out an “I come in peace!” that probably wasn’t very manly.
As the book-slash-weapon thudded to the floor, a string of curses shocked him. He’d half-expected his assaulter to be Eiley, which probably would have been completely warranted. Instead, it was Fraser who glowered at him a few inches away in the strip of dusk’s shadows.
“What the fuck? I thought you were a burglar, you wee arsewipe!”
Warren tried to catch his breath, snatching up the book that had almost bludgeoned him. It was too dark to even attempt to read the title, but the hefty hardcover depicted a bird painting beneath torn paper.
“Maybe you wouldn’t need to worry about that if you had the bloody lights turned on!” He flicked the switch by the door, eyes bleary in the new, bright light. “What are you doing in the dark?”
“I was about to leave.” Hostility left Fraser’s voice as brittle as ever. “What are you doing here?”
“I, er …” Warren wondered if it was better to lie. Nobody but Maggie was supposed to know he was here. He shouldn’t have been here.
“I just wanted to help Eiley out. I know she’s still struggling to get everything sorted in here.” Though it was looking better, piece by piece. Some of the shelves were up, albeit wonky, and …
“That’s a snazzy chair.” He pointed at the furniture by the window, all of it brand new.
The pencil crayon-themed kid’s chair had been replaced by one whose legs were carved to look like a stack of books in all colours of the rainbow, and the coffee table was far more elegant than the scratched up one Eiley’s kids were usually found crayoning at.
Even the couch was brand new, with patchwork upholstery complemented by the granny square cushions.
“Whoa. Did Maggie get all this new stuff in?”
“You need to go. Eiley isn’t here,” Fraser uttered.
“I know. That’s why I am.”
His shoulders squared, face sharp with a warning Warren didn’t feel much like heeding tonight. He wasn’t here to bloody argue anymore. Not with her, and not with her family.
“I just wanted to do something for her without her fighting me on it,” he elaborated tersely. “You don’t have to tell her it was me. I don’t give a shite about that. Just … The shelves are all skew-whiff, and I don’t think she’s actually nailed them to the wall, which is a safety hazard.”
The truth must have surprised Fraser, because he fell silent for a moment, teeth scraping over his lower lip. “We had the same idea, then. I brought in the furniture.”
“Shite, you made all this?” Warren had seen a few of his pieces at the autumn fair, but he hadn’t dared stop to look properly before.
The craftsmanship was exceptional, not something any old handyman could replicate, with delicate etchings in the wood and smooth paintwork set under a glossy topcoat. “They’re great. She’ll love them.”
“Not before she’ll moan at me for giving her handouts.” He rolled his eyes.
Warren grunted his agreement, setting down the book and his toolbox to make a start on the most lopsided shelf by the counter.
“Oi!” Fraser snapped again. “I didn’t say you could stay.”
“I know. Maggie did, though.”
From the corner of his eye, Warren saw Fraser put his hands on his hips, one grimy work boot stomping with impatience. “Can’t you go and try it on with some other poor woman? My sister’s been through enough.”
“Do you honestly think I—” He stopped himself before the outburst, but the end of the sentence still rang like a tinny bell in his chest. Do you honestly think I could want anyone else?
“Think what?” demanded Fraser. “That you’re a cocky wee git looking for a challenge because you’ve got nothing better to do? Aye, I do.”
Warren’s blood boiled, the top of his ears burning, but he refused to rise to it. Refused to prove Fraser was right. He unscrewed the first shelf from the frame, then the second, while Fraser watched on like he was expecting some retaliation. Like he wanted it.
Calmly, Warren muttered, “If she’s a challenge, I’ve already failed, so you don’t need to worry about that. Just let me sort these fucking shelves, and then you or her won’t see me here again.”
His words seemed to dent Fraser’s steel, or maybe it was the trembling in Warren’s hands that finally convinced him he was no longer a threat. Fraser sank onto the new couch behind Warren, the air between them as stifling and gritty as sand over their heads.
“You’re really just here to help?” Fraser questioned.
“The bookshop means the world to her. When that fucker breaks her heart again, and he will, I want her to be able to come home. Feel safe. I don’t give a shite if you believe me or not.”
“Wait … What … What fucker?”
Warren sent a frown over his shoulder. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Fraser’s tone was cutting again.
Warren threw down his tools. Why the hell had Eiley gone off without telling him? Aye, Fraser was an overbearing arsehole, but he was the one she’d need around her if Finlay hurt her. He was the one who still had the power to protect her and the kids – unlike Warren.
It was difficult to push past that panic enough to respect her boundaries, but he managed. “It isn’t my place. Ask her.”
“Tell me you’re not talking about Finlay. Tell me she’s not …”
Fuck’s sake . Warren pushed off his knees to stand.
“Is that why Harper’s been trying to get me to go on some weekend break with her?” Fraser’s eyes flashed an intimidatingly icy shade of blue. “That infuriating bloody woman. Where is she? Where’s Eiley?”
He was already retrieving his phone, unlocking the screen with a firm jab of his finger.
“Don’t.”
“ Don’t ?” Fraser repeated incredulously.
Warren got it. He couldn’t believe he was saying it either, but if nothing else, this space with him and Eiley had made him see clearly.
He still wanted to protect her, wanted to drive to wherever she was just to make sure that she and the kids were okay – but she didn’t want that, and that mattered more than his fear.
“Look, I learned the hard way that trying to keep her safe only pushes her further away. That ex of hers is a bastard, aye, and I don’t trust him in the slightest. But she’s a smart, strong lass.
Stronger than you give her credit for. Might be best to let her deal with this the way she needs to, for the kids if not for her.
When it goes badly, she’ll have a lot of people around her to pick up the pieces. ”
It was a shock to see his words make their impact, Fraser sinking back onto the couch. The muscles in his jaw leapt with tension beneath auburn stubble.
“She didn’t tell me,” he muttered. “She used to tell me everything.”
“She’s stubborn that way.”
“ Harper didn’t tell me.”
“Probably because she knew it would only cause you more stress. She’s another smart, strong lass. You’re lucky to have them.” Warren knelt back to his tools. Tried not to drop the screw in his clumsy hands as Fraser tore at a button on the cuff of his plaid shirt.
“I know that,” he snapped.
No, he didn’t. Not really. People like them wouldn’t know what it felt like to have nobody at all.
When Warren broke, there was nobody to glue him back together.
Nobody to worry about him when he put himself in harm’s way.
Nobody to protect him when he couldn’t do it himself.
Fraser might have loved his people, but it was natural to take them for granted unless he’d faced a world without them.
“Are the kids with her?” Fraser asked shakily.
“They’re the only reason she’s there at all. She’s not going to let them get hurt, but she wants them to know their father. Can’t blame her for that.” Even if she was looking in the wrong places.
When Warren fumbled with the other side of the bookcase, Fraser approached to steady it, making his job easier. He raised his brow, surprised, but dared not question it. The time for winning over Eiley’s loved ones was long gone.
“You care about her,” Fraser said, like the evidence wasn’t etched into every part of Warren.
“Yup. Like I said, though, you needn’t worry. It’s not reciprocated.”
“Eiley cares about everybody.” He cleared his throat. “She isn’t like me and Cam. She can’t hide it, and she feels … everything. That’s why I’ve only ever wanted to protect her. I’ve seen how bad it gets when she’s struggling.”
“Guess I’m the exception, then.” Which must have meant there truly was something rotten in him. Why else would he still be alone otherwise?
Warren’s mirthless smile was more of a grimace as he finished the last screw, then stepped back to admire his work. “There. Not wonky. Only a dozen more to go.”
“Give it here.” Fraser beckoned for the screwdriver. “I’ll show you how to do it quicker.”
Warren did, quietly contemplating him as he worked. “I’m glad she has you,” he said when the drilling stopped.
When Eiley came home, she likely wouldn’t want to talk to Fraser about it, and if he was anything like Warren, he would take it as a sign of failure.
Warren saw now all the ways he wore fear and concern, in the creases of his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.
Not a bad bloke. Just terrified of seeing his sister in a bad way, as any good brother would be.
He deserved to know that, even if he was pushed away, he was doing a good job.
Fraser lowered his gaze, and Warren assumed that was the end of it. Until he said, “I’m sorry I was an arse to you. You’re actually not as terrible as I thought.”
To be seen, understood, meant more than Fraser could know, and Warren shook his hand with emotion tugging at the corners of his mouth. They worked in calm quiet until the bookstore finally looked like a bookstore again.
And when Warren left, his chest felt a little lighter than it had going in. Then, he went to work, and everything went wrong.