Chapter 8 #2
‘You just focus on getting Lucy home safely,’ Fox said, smiling broadly at her new best friend before throwing a cheeky wink my way. I glared at her in response, of course, but I couldn’t help the little rush of excitement that rattled through me at the very idea.
I can still feel the buzz of it now. It’s pretty quiet up Flowergate at this time, though I can just vaguely hear the buzz of the harbour front, music and chatter carrying on the stiff sea breeze. I hear Lucy pull in a breath beside me and turn to see her looking down the hill, towards the water.
‘I think in another life I’d like to live beside the sea,’ she says in a faraway voice, blonde waves whipping to and fro in the gusts.
I frown. ‘Not in this life?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looks a moment longer before turning her focus to me, a soft smile playing at her lips. ‘Maybe.’ Her brows pinch as she studies me, and it feels like she wants to say more, but then in a moment her energy changes entirely. ‘You grew up here?’ she asks, and I nod.
‘Until I was twenty. Then I moved away for a bit.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘I got into music college in Leeds. Didn’t last more than a term, but I met some good people and started a band. With Dean, if you can believe that.’
It’s a tough ask not to grit my teeth as I say his name, but I do my best. I don’t mention Elias, the other member of the band. Not yet. And I definitely don’t mention the way that band ended. That’s something I’m not ready to share.
‘You and Dean?’ Lucy asks, eyes wide. I thought I’d done a pretty good job of concealing my animosity towards him in the interview, but then I remember I straight up called him a dick not one hour ago.
Whatever, I stand by it.
I breathe out a laugh that the breeze snatches away. ‘We were better friends back then.’
I thought we were, anyway. But friends don’t sleep with friends’ fiancées. My mouth pulls into a grimace, and this time I can’t hide it.
Lucy studies me for a moment. If she notices my face, she doesn’t let on. ‘Were you any good?’
‘Yeah, we were, actually.’ I smile, the thought of what could have been haunting me even all these years later. ‘Almost signed a record deal at one point, but’—I shrug—‘there was a lot going on. The short answer is that we crashed and burned, and I ended up back here.’
The long answer is that my mum was diagnosed right before we were about to sign, and I walked away from the deal, and the band, to look after her.
Elias forgave me in a heartbeat.
Dean didn’t.
Lucy is still watching me, those blue eyes trained on mine. ‘In Whitby?’
My smile is tighter than I’d like. ‘Of course. It’s home.’
I’m holding back the rest of the truth, and she must know it, because she stops dead, eyes wide.
I can tell she wants to ask more, but she doesn’t.
It’s that damn curiosity, I need to watch out for it.
I’m beyond grateful when she starts to walk again, falling into step with me as we start down the steps towards the alley that leads to the harbour front.
As a local, I nip through these little snickets without even thinking, but Lucy’s sharp little intake of breath reminds me a moment too late that this one is dark, narrow, and probably intimidating as hell.
Without thinking, I reach for her hand and squeeze lightly.
It was intended to be a friendly gesture – a reassuring guide – but the warmth of her small hand in mine sends ripples of feeling over my skin, building to a small, secret smile that I’m glad it’s too dark for her to see.
I duck in front of her as the alley narrows, reaching my arm behind my back so as not to lose contact, even though we’re almost at the end now and the light from the road at the end is easily enough to see where we’re walking.
I just want to savour this moment, this feeling that I’ve missed so much.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t exactly been short of action in my time, but I can’t remember the last time I got all flustered just from holding a girl’s hand. That hasn’t happened in a while.
I honestly didn’t know it still could.
‘So Quinn’s a bit of a character,’ Lucy says as we step out onto Pier Road, a well-timed interruption before my thoughts begin to spiral in directions they have no business heading.
I can’t help but laugh in response. Everyone says that about Quinn sooner or later. And it’s absolutely true. I mean, I’d probably go with the word idiot if it were me, but I suppose character works.
‘I can’t believe he proposed to her,’ I say, reluctantly dropping her hand as I lead her right, towards the bridge. ‘They’ve been together five minutes.’
It’s just a figure of speech though. I can completely believe it. Quinn’s impulsivity is legendary. If anything, I’m surprised it’s taken this long. I half expected him to be on his fourth or fifth wife by now.
I’m definitely still worried by the whole thing, but is there jealousy there too?
I mean, I could deny it, but I’d be lying.
Of all the things I lost when I changed, the chance of a normal future with someone I love is the thing that guts me the most. Not that I would describe anything Quinn does as normal, but still.
More normal than anything I can hope for.
The small breath Lucy huffs out makes me turn to her, and when I do, something about the expression on her face tugs at my insides. I’m not sure how to describe it. Wistful, perhaps?
‘The romantic in me wants to say when you know, you know,’ she muses, not looking at me. ‘Except that I actually don’t know at all.’
‘You’ve never fallen in love with someone three seconds after meeting them?’
She smiles and shakes her head, but when she speaks, her voice is quiet against the rhythmic slap of water on the harbour wall. ‘I’ve never fallen in love with anyone. At all.’
I try to temper the raise in my eyebrows, but it’s no use. I panic for a second about how she’ll interpret the expression, but she just laughs softly.
‘Ok, I’ve never been in requited love.’ Something deeper pulls at her smile. ‘Pining over someone doesn’t count.’
This time I definitely can’t believe it. I would have thought people would be falling over themselves for a chance to go out with a woman like Lucy. Even an arsehole like me has been in love, for God’s sake.
For all the good it did me.
‘Never?’ I ask, and she shakes her head in confirmation.
‘Never.’
I’m floored, and I say the only thing I can think of, which turns out to be, ‘Well, colour me surprised.’
The tightness in her jaw eases at once, and before I know it, she’s laughing out loud. It’s that angel laugh again, warm and melodic, and even though she’s definitely laughing at me, I can’t quite find it in me to be offended.
‘Oh my word, Bram,’ she says, mirth shaking her voice. ‘Colour me surprised. Are you someone’s nan?’
I feign offence, and it does nothing to tame the swell in my chest. Suddenly, making her feel better is the only thing I can focus on.
‘I’m not that old,’ I say, with an entirely fabricated huff. Not yet, I want to add, but I don’t. It vaguely registers somewhere that this is the first time she’s teased me, and it makes my inner schoolboy roar with pride. For some reason, I get the feeling she isn’t like this with everyone.
Her eyes twinkle. ‘You might want to tell that to your vocabulary.’
I pout to hide my delight. Trolling me has put a huge, genuine smile back on Lucy’s face, and honestly, I’m completely willing to sacrifice a little bit of pride for that.
‘All right, City Girl,’ I say with a wink, gesturing to the road in front of us. ‘Let this geriatric thirty-four-year-old walk you home.’
She begins to walk but I can see her considering me carefully out of the corner of my eye. ‘You’re thirty-four?’ she asks eventually, surprise raising the pitch of her voice.
‘Yeah, why?’
She shakes her head lightly. ‘You look younger, that’s all. I thought you were nearer my age.’
‘Which is?’
‘Twenty-six.’
I hum proudly in response. Hey, I’m not immune to a compliment here and there. ‘Must be down to my religious use of sunblock.’
Among other things.
We fall into step then, over the bridge and up the small hill at the other side.
It’s dark here at this time of night and, once we reach the cobbled streets, I hold one crooked elbow out to her to guide her on the uneven surface.
She slips her hand into it with a shy smile, and something inside me jumps at the contact as I tuck her in against me.
It’s a little cooler on this side of the harbour, and I can just feel her shivering through her jacket as the sea breeze rushes through the gaps between the buildings.
‘You’re cold.’ I frown as I say it, like it’s somehow my fault, but I don’t always notice temperature. And it’s not like I’m in charge of the weather.
She doesn’t look at me as she smiles. ‘I’m always cold.’
There’s an almost imperceptible pull in my chest then – some small flicker of protectiveness. ‘I’ll make you a hot drink once we get inside,’ I say, and I don’t miss how that makes her hand tighten on my arm just a little, nor how much I like it.
It’s a strange dynamic, walking back to the cottage like this.
It should be quite an awkward situation – we’re barely more than strangers, and Lucy’s actively researching my business for a story – but it doesn’t feel like that.
It feels like the end of a date, particularly when she turns to face me, just as we reach the archway to the annexe, and says, ‘I had fun tonight.’
If this were a date – if I were human – I’d lean in to kiss her right now.
She looks incredible there, against the warm glow of the streetlight, colour bitten into her cheeks by the wind, which has also tugged more wisps of blonde out from her updo.
I imagine that if I did, my lips would find the faint taste of gin and sea salt on hers.
But it isn’t a date, and I most definitely am not still human, so I straighten, remind myself of all the reasons I can’t kiss her, and smile broadly at her instead.
‘I did too.’
It’s true. Bitten is more than a business to me – it’s my heart and soul.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the fact that I get to work with my best friends, in my own bar, serving my kind of people, but tonight was more than that.
It was catching Lucy’s eye over the riot of black lipstick and whatever-coloured hair.
It was introducing her to the guys afterwards.
It was the small tug in my chest at noticing her there, over and over, standing out like a beautiful, softly spoken, pastel-coloured thumb.
She shivers again, a little more violently this time, and at the sight of it I whisk her under the arch and tap in the door code.
The small groan of pleasure that slips out of her as we tumble into the warmth of the annexe is absolutely not safe for work, and it shoots a dart straight down my spine, every nerve ending standing to attention.
I clear my throat and kick off my boots, heading into the kitchen area.
‘Tea?’ I ask, hoping that my voice sounds halfway normal and not as thick and lust-addled as it feels. ‘Coffee? Or I can probably rustle up a hot chocolate.’
Her eyes widen. ‘A hot chocolate would be amazing. Thank you.’
I ignore the rush of feeling in my chest as I watch her curl up on the sofa, and busy myself with making us both a warm drink.
It doesn’t matter how pretty she looks right now, with her rosy cheeks and that oversized jumper slipping off one shoulder, I’m not good for her.
So the next thing out of my mouth shocks me every bit as much as I imagine it shocks her. More, probably.
‘I don’t know what your plans are for tomorrow,’ I hear my voice say, going completely rogue, ‘but if you need a goth guide to show you the sights, let me know.’
Idiot.
I hear her blow out a little breath. She sounds pleased, or relieved, or something like that.
‘That would actually be really fun,’ she replies. ‘I was planning to just have a wander around, but a personalised tour by a local would be amazing.’
I want to kick myself and high-five myself at the same time.
I definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but I also can’t wait.
And hey, if Sammi tells me off, I’ll just tell her it was my chance to talk up Bitten a little more.
Because that’s what I’m doing. Not trying everything I can to be close to this beautiful, unattainable creature.
Because that would be a terrible idea.
And we all know I’m the king of those.