Chapter 37
The bookshop looked like an entirely different space when Eiley stepped into it on Monday morning.
Any evidence of the flood had been erased, the computer, cash register, and stationery back on the counter and the shelves standing like neatly lined soldiers through the store.
She was fairly sure that the furniture she’d built last week had not looked nearly this perfect, and found evidence of the handy culprit in the gorgeous new furniture by the window nook.
Fraser.
He’d outdone himself with the colourful book-themed chair and desk, not to mention the rustic patchwork couch, which she instantly wanted to curl up on.
The annoyance that rose was instinct: he’d put precious time and energy into helping her again when he should have been taking care of himself and his business.
But then she stroked the etchings in the wooden desk, and it was all shoved back down – somewhere she couldn’t find it again, this time. Tears blurred her vision as she turned around. The bookshop was back, cosier and more beautiful than ever, and that meant the flat wouldn’t be far behind.
Finally, something had righted itself.
Since they’d already planned to chat this morning, she wasn’t surprised when Fraser’s entrance tinkled through the shop. She whirled and hugged him before he could reach the welcome mat, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Fraser froze, voice hardening with dread. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, you big plonker!” Pulling away, she wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her hoodie. “I can’t believe you did all this! You fixed it all! We weren’t planning to reopen for another week or two yet, but now” – a shuddering breath – “we can!”
The joy was almost enough to overpower the heartache she’d felt since ending things with Warren.
Still, there were pieces of him in this bookshop that she wasn’t ready to confront.
The stockroom where their fire had first kindled.
Even the curb outside where he’d sat with her, wrapping her up in a blanket and gently asking if he could take her home.
Fraser squeezed her shoulder, his gaze unusually soft – especially considering she was owed a huge, long-winded lecture on how terrible she’d been to lie about seeing Finlay. “I’m glad you’re happy. As much as I’d like to take all the credit, I did have help.”
“Harper,” Eiley stated knowingly. “I’ll be thanking her with the best book party Belbarrow has ever seen. How was your weekend away, minus the headache Mum gave you when she thought you were caught in the wildfire? Not okay, by the way.”
“Aye, I know. I’ll never forget to charge my phone again,” he promised with a roll of his eyes. “But no,” he said as an afterthought, “it wasn’t Harper, and thank god for it. She’s banned from ever using my tools.”
“Oh. Cam?” That would have been odd. Cam wasn’t a fan of anything involving screwdrivers or flatpack. Assembling Isla and Archie’s cots had almost broken her, Sorcha always having to take over before she smashed the entire house to pieces.
“No, not Cam.” Fraser waited for her expectantly. “C’mon, Eiley. He told me not to tell you, which means you have to figure it out for yourself.”
She blanched, his name coming out in little more than a whisper: “Warren?”
A nod.
“Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he want you to tell me?” He had to have done this before their fight, even before the fire, yet he hadn’t mentioned it.
Fraser shrugged. “Because he knows you’d bite his head off, probably. He wanted to make you happy without also making you angry, which, by the way, isn’t that easy.”
Eiley looked around again at the uniform shelves, tall and steady where hers had been wonky and slow to build. He’d left the books for her to sort, likely because he remembered her complaints about Fergus.
“When?” Her voice was raspy, fragile.
“Saturday afternoon, before Harper and I set off.”
Knowing she’d be in Glasgow.
It wasn’t the first time she wondered if she’d made a mistake in ending things, but it was the first time the possibility hit her like a kick to the stomach, leaving her tender and breathless.
She’d rejected a man who had rebuilt everything that was broken.
Who cared for her enough to do it without asking, or even without taking the credit.
While she’d tried to fix her family, pushing him out of it in the process, he’d been here anyway.
“Which brings us to our next discussion,” Fraser began. “Please don’t ever make my fiancée lie to me again. She’s really very bad at it.”
Any scolding turned to white noise at that word. “ Fiancée ?”
He smiled, eyes glittering with unbridled joy. “Aye. I didn’t plan on asking before Christmas, but of course she found the bloody ring in my pocket.”
Eiley’s squeal was not a noise she’d ever produced before. She hugged him again, extra tight this time, relishing in the oomph he let out. “So that’s why you’re less grumpy than usual!”
“Oh, believe me, I was extremely grumpy when I found out you’d gone to see Finlay.”
Sheepishly, she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Fraser. I just needed to do this for the kids without other voices in my head trying to steer me in different directions.”
He sighed, and she braced herself for the stern telling off.
But he only said, “I get it.”
She raised her brow, wondering if all of this was a dream, because reality did not usually run this smoothly. The shelves should be falling down, and Fraser should be so angry he could barely look at her, and Eiley should be crying sad tears instead of happy. “You do?”
“Surprisingly, Fireman Sam said something that made me realise I need to lay off on the protective big brother stuff.”
Yep, definitely an alternative universe. It only occurred to her now that they must have been in here at the same time, for the same purpose: to help her. And yet there were no fist-shaped dents in the plaster.
What on earth had happened here?
She scratched her head, mussing her loose ponytail. “I’m confused and also disturbed.”
“Aye, as was I when I realised he’s actually not the worst bloke in the world,” Fraser retorted.
“He told me that you’re smart and strong enough to handle your own problems, and he was right.
I’m sorry for being too much, okay? Knowing that you didn’t think you could tell me about Finlay really fucking hurt.
I don’t want you to feel that you can’t talk to me anymore. I’m going to be better. I promise.”
“Fraser …” With a long breath, she dragged him over to the couch to get comfortable. She took the cushion onto her lap, fiddling with the yarn stitches.
You don’t know how lucky you are to have a family that cares about you. That wants to protect you. Some of us don’t.
Warren had been right. She was smart and strong enough to handle her own problems, but she didn’t need to do it alone. That was a choice she’d made, because she felt as though she had something to prove and maybe she didn’t deserve all of the effort her loved ones poured into helping her.
It wasn’t true. She could be the worst person in the world, and she knew her brother would still fight her corner. It was who he was, and a testament to how fiercely he loved his family. Maybe he needed to work on his boundaries, still, but she needed to work on accepting support.
“I’m sorry for all the worry I’ve caused you,” Eiley said.
“And I’m sorry for forgetting how lucky I am to have you taking care of us all.
I’ve just felt so useless since Finlay left us, like there’s not enough pieces of me to be a whole person.
And every time someone tried to help me, it was like they saw it, too. ”
“Just because we see you hurting, it doesn’t mean we think you’re weak.
” Fraser took her hand. “I’ve always wished I could take your suffering away.
I can’t imagine how difficult it is to have lived with depression this long, and then to deal with the rest on top of it …
I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t. ”
“It’s not easy.” She tried, and failed, to keep her sob at bay.
God, he was right. She’d spent her whole life trying, trying, trying, stuffing everything down because she had to hold herself together for the family, or the kids, or herself.
Meanwhile, her brain had wanted to fight her at every turn, convincing her that everything she did was either wrong or doomed to fail, whether it was the bookshop, or the flat …
Or Warren. Was she really protecting herself from more heartache, or was she living her life in survival mode? The only time she could step out of her struggles was when she was with him. He’d only wanted to make her feel good and safe.
“I think maybe I’ve made a mistake,” she admitted, and she couldn’t hold all of that pain in any longer. As she began to cry, Fraser pulled her close, holding her while she fell apart. Everything Eiley had faced poured out of her in torrents, her sobs echoing through the bookstore.