Chapter 38
“So that’s it?” asked Nate in disbelief. “After all that fuss, all that infatuation with each other, it’s just over?”
Warren hadn’t meant to talk about Eiley but, naturally, Nate had questions after last weekend, especially after Warren took a couple of personal days. Nate had found him in the tavern, drowning his sorrows, five whiskies in and ready for a sixth.
Getting it off his chest had helped, in the end.
Nate was a top lad; he didn’t make fun of Warren for acting like a lovesick puppy ( much ), instead listening to him with concern and understanding.
It might have been the healthiest friendship Warren had ever experienced, and hoped it would be a new constant.
Having somebody to lean on was uncomfortably novel, but he was grateful for every bit of it and only hoped he’d have the opportunity to return the kindness if Nate ever needed a shoulder to cry on.
“She doesn’t want me,” Warren replied, glumly watching the ice cubes slide around the bottom of his glass. “I don’t think she wants anyone just now, but especially not me.”
“I find that hard to believe, mate. She was ready to walk into fire for you.”
“Aye, well maybe that’s the problem. She can be so …” Warren clenched his fingers before deciding on: “Frustrating. She’ll fight me at every turn just because she’s too stubborn to hear me out.”
“Like someone else I know,” Nate muttered into his beer.
Warren flashed him a look, and Nate shrugged unapologetically.
“Look, I don’t know a lot about love and all that stuff, so I don’t have many words of advice.”
“There’s no advice to give. There’s nothing else I can do.
” Warren waved Graeme down for another drink: a bad idea, considering his barstool was already wobbling unsteadily beneath him, but what good was being sensible?
Apparently, it was a terrible quality to have.
Made him suffocating and impossible to love.
Nate pushed his pint glass forward and Warren clinked in cheers before realising he’d meant it for Graeme. Okay, maybe he was a bit drunk.
As the bartender refilled their drinks, a waft of fruity perfume brushed against Warren. He turned to find a familiar blonde leaning on the bar beside him.
“Hi, Graeme. I’m here to pick up the champagne?” Harper asked. Then, she looked at Warren and whistled through her teeth. “Wow. You’re a sight for sore eyes. You all right?”
“Dandy.” God, he hoped she didn’t tell Eiley about this. “Champagne, eh? What’s the occasion?”
Her brown eyes swirled with sympathy, the last thing he wanted.
“A book signing and an engagement. I’ve been trying to hunt you down all week to invite you, but you disappeared on us.
I’d ask now, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to show up like …
” – she looked him up and down with a grimace – “that. You smell like you’ve been bathing in the stuff. ”
“Well, it’s very kind of you to think of me, Harper, but I don’t think I’d be welcome either way,” he slurred, and tried to clink glasses with her, too, except she didn’t have one, so he tapped her shoulder with it instead before downing his fresh drink.
“Congrats on all the good stuff though. Fraser’s a lucky lad. ”
Harper perched on the stool beside him, looking at Nate as though to say, really? You’re letting him be this pathetic?
Nate winced. “Pity parties are sometimes necessary.”
“Yeah, don’t I know that. The Milligans have a habit of breaking your heart, don’t they?”
Warren shifted backwards in surprise, held up by Nate’s gentle hands on his shoulders. “Whoa, that was quick. I thought you just said you were engaged.”
She prodded his bicep hard enough to leave a sting. “I don’t mean recently, dopehead. I just mean it wasn’t always smooth sailing for us, either. Eiley and Fraser suffer with the same habits of self-sabotage, especially when they know it’s real.”
“It isn’t her. It’s me.” Warren gulped his drink until the whisky turned bitter in his mouth.
His chest hadn’t felt this heavy in a long, long time.
It wasn’t just the relationship he might have had with Eiley that he was grieving, but also the man he’d thought he was; the idea that he could find his big, happy family, as though love was that easy to come by. As though he’d been entitled to it.
Now, he knew better. He could keep building that house, but the joy he hoped to fill it with could never be guaranteed.
The woman he wanted, the one he was certain, despite all signs pointing to the contrary, was right for him, would never be his, and he didn’t know how to move on.
He didn’t want to move on. The devotion he felt for her, for her kids, wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before, and he feared he might never again.
Even if he did, maybe nobody would put up with his need for rules and security, even if it came hand in hand with his trauma.
Perhaps his past would always hinder his future, and he’d been silly to believe building a house would fix it.
“Well, I assure you, that’s not true,” Harper said. “I know she’s given you a hard time, but you’re a decent guy. You’ve made her happy for the first time in a long, long time. I’m still rooting for you, Hercules.”
“Cheers.” Warren leaned his head against his hand, finding it too heavy for his neck, suddenly.
“By the way, I’ve been listening to your wee fairy book in audio.
It’s very … interesting.” Not really his cup of tea, given that the lumberjack love interest’s similarities to Fraser were not very subtle, but she was certainly a talented writer.
He could see why Eiley had wanted to celebrate.
He’d never listened to books before, always thought he’d zone out, but he’d wanted to have more to talk about with Eiley, and he’d found a smooth voice in his ears could provide comfort when he no longer wanted to drown in the isolating quiet of his van.
She grinned. “Why, thank you, Warren! I thought you didn’t read!”
“My eyes don’t read but my ears are all right at it.”
“Wait, I want to read it,” Nate chimed in, swirling a beermat between his finger. “What’s it about?”
“Fairy sex,” Warren said at the same time Harper said, “A princess in the woods.”
Harper shoved him again. “Not just fairy sex, thank you very much. Though, yes, it is a bit smutty.”
“Which is a great thing,” Warren made sure to add before he was misconstrued again to be some sort of judgemental arsehole. “Sexual empowerment!”
Nate’s “Oh …” was filled with trepidation – and intrigue.
Harper chuckled. “I’ll get you a signed copy, don’t you worry.”
“Is she, er …” Warren cleared his throat. “Is she okay, though? She’s doing okay?” As much as he’d tried to stop, worrying about her was embedded in him. It would ease at least some of the ache to know she was back on her feet, even if it only proved she was better off without him.
“She’s Eiley. She’s managing. And she’s preparing to move back into the flat, so there’s that.”
“Good. That’s really good. That’s all she wanted, aye? Good.” His eyes burned just a little. That was that, then. She was moving on, getting her life back, and he’d never had a place in it. Never would.
“That’s a lot of goods,” remarked Harper.
“Because it’s all good.” On another note, he wasn’t sure he could feel his lips, which probably wasn’t good. “And the kids?”
Graeme placed two bottles of champagne on the counter, and Harper thanked him, paying on her credit card before returning to the conversation with soft consideration. “Cam said that Brook was asking about you a lot during the fires. Wondering whether you’d be okay.”
Nate patted Warren on the back, almost pushing the tears straight out of him. He held them back just enough, dipping his head. “He’s a good lad. Sorry. More goods.”
“I’m really sorry, Warren,” Harper whispered.
“Don’t be. Some people just don’t work, aye?
” He sniffed and straightened up. Or tried to.
“Listen, I have something in my van I wanted to drop off for the kids. Would you see they get it before Fireworks Night?” He stood up on unsteady legs, swaying against the bar with a new urgency.
While Bonfire Night had technically been last night, and a nightmare of a shift, Belbarrow’s community fireworks display would take place over the weekend.
He knew Eiley and the kids probably wouldn’t be there because of all the noise and wanted to give them another way of celebrating.
“You could give it to them yourself,” she offered.
“No, I’m better off staying away. Please, Harper?”
She pursed her lips. “You’re parked outside?”
“Aye.”
He was shoved back onto the stool, almost toppling into Nate. “Give me your keys, and I’ll get it, then.”
“All right. But you can’t steal my van. She’s all I’ve got,” he warned, patting down his jeans to find his keys. They fell onto the floor, and Harper swiped them up before he risked another injury.
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on committing grand theft auto tonight.” She smirked.
He told her what to look for and where it would be, and she bounced away.
“Oi,” Nate said softly.
“What?” he grumbled.
“The van isn’t all you’ve got, okay?”
Warren met his friend’s gaze, a rush of appreciation overcoming him. He put his hands over Nate’s. “Thank you, mate. Nate. ’Ey, it rhymes!”
Nate’s sincerity remained unwavering despite Warren’s babbling. “If you get sick of living on wheels until the house is done, I’ve got a spare room in my gaff.”
“Really?” He liked the simplicity of van living, but the offer tempted him all the same. Wouldn’t it be nice to have household appliances again? A shower that wasn’t in the station’s locker room? A ceiling high enough to avoid bumping his head on and a bed he wasn’t cramped up in?
“Yeah, why not? I’ve never had a roommate before and you’re probably better at cleaning than me.” The corner of Nate’s dark eyes creased with humour.
For the first time that night, Warren smiled. He was pretty clean. Quite missed having a proper carpet to hoover, actually.
“I might take you up on it, then.” He thrust his arm around Nate’s shoulders, leaning into him. “You’re a good friend, Nate. A really good friend.”
Nate patted his chest awkwardly. “Not so bad yourself, Warren. Now get off me, you big lump.”
Warren tried, but this time, he was sliding off the stool too quick to stop himself. It seemed fitting to end the night on the sticky tavern floor, even if, tomorrow, he would cringe to think of it.
At least he had a proper mate to pick him up, which was more than ever before.