Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
brAM
I’m absolutely buzzing when I walk through the front door of the bar.
I mean, sure, it was a strange morning and all, but that was completely overshadowed by the utter magnificence that is Lucy Partridge.
Waking up this morning to see her next to me in bed was a sight that’s going to stay with me for a long time.
And then the way that she was with Gilly, I just can’t even put it into words.
It’s always bittersweet, going to see my mum.
I crave and dread it in pretty equal measure.
It never fails to remind me of everything I’ve lost. But it felt different with Lucy there.
It was like I was more easily able to focus on the good bits, because there was someone there to support me through the bad.
I could get used to that.
Ok, the chances are that I won’t get used to it at all – that Lucy will get back on her train tomorrow and I’ll never see her again – but it’s not a day for dwelling on that particular fact.
Today I kissed a pretty girl, and now I’m going to hang out with my favourite people in the world.
One in particular who, if my calculations are correct, should be landing in the country right about now.
If I’m going to dwell on anything, it’ll be that.
Quinn looks up as I push through the door. ‘All right, dickhead?’
Yeah, I’m even counting him as one of my favourite people in the world. That’s how good my mood is.
‘Always,’ I reply, and maybe I unknowingly sing it like I’m in a damn musical, because three more pairs of eyes snap in my direction.
‘He slept with her,’ Quinn says without missing a beat, and he steals a packet of pork scratchings from the box in front of Emmy before she can swipe his hand away.
Emmy tuts at him. ‘Slept with who?’ she asks, as she picks up another bag and throws it at Quinn’s face. He dodges it easily before hooking it onto the hanging strip behind them.
‘You know, Pastel.’
I hold a palm up, confused. ‘Pastel?’
Fox snorts. ‘Blame Quinn for that one.’
We all look at him, and he does at least have the good grace to look repentant. ‘She was wearing pastel colours at the bar the other night,’ he says with a shrug. ‘It just really made her stand out in that crowd.’
To be fair to him, he has a point. And it’s by far the least offensive nickname he’s ever given anyone. I don’t even want to mention the things he calls me.
‘Her name’s Lucy,’ I remind them, rounding the bar and resting against the worn wooden surface. My chest warms when I say her name. ‘And no, I didn’t sleep with her.’
‘You wanted to, though,’ Quinn says, throwing a pork scratching and catching it in his mouth.
‘Obviously.’ I snort a laugh. ‘Have you seen her?’
‘I liked her,’ Fox says, from a stepstool down the end of the bar. ‘She had good vibes.’
Emmy nods her agreement, still guarding the box in front of her.
‘I like her too,’ I say, with what I hope is an air of finality. ‘Now can we stop invading my privacy and start getting sorted for tonight, please?’
It’s then that Sammi – who I only just realise has not said a single word since I walked in – straightens on the other side of the bar, dark eyes snapping to mine.
‘A minute of your time first, if I may,’ she says, and the formality in her tone worries me. What the hell have I done now?
She leads me out into the storeroom at the back, pulling the door closed behind us.
‘Isn’t Pastel the reporter?’ she asks, voice dropped. ‘Who’s currently writing a story on you?’
I frown. ‘Yes.’ I’m not completely sure why we couldn’t have this conversation inside. It makes me feel like I’m in trouble. ‘I mean, not just on me. She’s writing about the whole weekend.’
‘And are we sure that this is a good plan?’ she continues, a small crease forming between her brows. ‘’Cause to me it feels like … not a good plan.’
I shrug, immediately defensive. ‘I know how it looks, but—’
‘I’m not judging, man,’ she says, more softly this time, and it’s then that I recognise the expression on her face. It’s concern for me, not about me. She’s got my back. ‘I’m just trying to stop you from getting any more bad press.’
I soften. ‘It’s not like that.’
Her mouth twists to the side, sceptical. ‘Bram—’
‘I like her, Sam.’
She looks shocked by my admission. I’m a little shocked myself. I think we both realise at the same time that this is the first time I’ve actually liked anyone since Jess. The first time I’ve liked anyone since my change.
Which feels … kind of monumental.
Significant, at least.
It’s a moment or two before she speaks again. ‘Just be careful,’ she says eventually, her brow still creased. ‘Because of the media thing, and also because of, you know.’
‘You know?’
She huffs out an exasperated breath. ‘Don’t make me say it.’
I try to hide my grin as I shrug innocently. Sammi’s an all-business kind of girl. Any talk of emotions usually makes her run for the hills.
‘Because of your heart, you idiot,’ she blurts, a blush darkening her cheeks, but then a smile breaks through her awkwardness. ‘Heartbroken Bram was a real downer.’
‘I’m sorry that my inner torment was uncomfortable for you,’ I deadpan, and she fixes a glare at me. I can’t help but laugh.
‘Ok, I’m sorry.’ I drop the smile, and I’m deadly serious when I say, ‘I promise I’ll be careful.’
She doesn’t say anything for a while, and I could swear I see the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes. It makes me grateful as hell that I have this lot in my life – they’ve all loved the hell out of me, even when I really didn’t deserve it.
‘Good,’ Sammi says, and while there’s a definite tug to her voice as she does, she soon shakes it off. ‘Now let’s get our shit together and go put on a show. When’s the band getting here?’
I chuckle. She’s back to business in the blink of an eye. ‘Around five.’
Sammi nods. ‘And our special guest?’
‘Same.’ I check my phone in case there’s been an update from Elias, but my lock screen is clear. I’m going to say no news is good news.
‘Great,’ Sammi says, with a glint in her eyes. ‘You ready to cause a stir for all the right reasons?’