19 Everleigh Wanna Be Loved—The Red Clay Strays #2
Pulling free from his grasp, I retreat to create breathing space.
Everything is so close to the surface after digging my soul out to present to Fletcher.
God, I want to tell Leo. I need to release this sickness before it consumes me.
But that tiny seed of doubt still remains, telling me to keep a mask in place.
“Eden?”
“I’m scared to lose my second chance too,” I blurt out.
Watching understanding dawn on his expression knifes me in the gut, over and over, until all my dirty secrets want to spill free in a tar-filled organ sack.
“What could be so awful that you’d possibly think that?”
“Just trust me, Leo. You’re better off not knowing.”
“That isn’t your decision to make.”
My jaw locks into a vice, battling hard to keep it all in. Yet Leo won’t relent. Not until he’s struck his final blow to the armour keeping me locked out in the cold.
“Sweetheart, all I want in this world is you.”
The rising wind carries his confession out into the world where I can’t snatch it back for safekeeping. I choke on a million different responses, needing to safeguard his heart, but the storm chooses that moment to break.
When a sudden gust crashes into us at breakneck speed, Leo rushes to take me under his arm and move us back from the edge. The first few raindrops burst free from the clouds to offer a warning.
“Bad timing on my part,” he shouts over the wind. “We need to get out of here.”
Grabbing our packs, we return to the path just as the heavens decide to split wide open and dump a tsunami on our heads. Rain falls in frigid sheets, threatening to break us apart until Leo seizes my hand.
“I’ve got you!”
“Where are we going to go?” I holler back.
“Follow me! Don’t let go!”
The clouds above us have turned into deadly midnight, filled with fury. Leo’s grasp is the only thing guiding me through the flood that sweeps over the mountains without a care for anyone trapped on the steep slopes.
My foot catches on a protruding rock, almost sending me flying. I crash into Leo, and he steadies us both, falling back on his experience to navigate the gale. We link arms, moving in tandem to descend safely.
“We can’t make it all the way down!” I shout at him.
“Shelter . . . ahead.” His response dissipates in the wind.
“Where?”
“A little farther!”
Holding on to him for dear life grants me the courage to put one foot in front of the other. Even when we can’t clearly see the path ahead. It’s been obscured by heavy rain, throwing the world into greyscale.
Clambering down an incline, Leo pauses to help me, then steers us towards a stone structure tucked into the side of the hill. It looks like a miniature house but built from hewed stones and wooden timbers, complete with a wind-weathered slate roof.
“Inside!” Leo yells.
We escape the gale-force wind by ducking through the arched entrance, slamming a heavy lump of wood shut behind us. Leo slumps against the door to catch his breath. We’re both dripping wet, creating puddles on floor.
“Christ,” I pant for breath. “That came out of nowhere.”
“It happens up high.” He wipes rain from his face.
“Thanks for the assist.”
“Sorry we got caught in it,” Leo frets. “I checked the forecast before we left, but the weather can be a little unpredictable out here.”
“Not your fault. What is this place?”
“It’s called a bothy. Kinda like a public shelter on the trail path.”
Inside the cramped space, the wind and rain can’t attack us. We’re shielded by near-meter-thick stone walls and a low ceiling that creates an almost cave-like effect. There’s even a basic table, wooden rocking chair, and small open hearth.
“They’re maintained by volunteers and free to use,” Leo explains, stripping off his drenched coat. “There’s a few of them scattered over the Lake District.”
“This is crazy. Who would build such a thing?”
“Depends on which urban legend you listen to. Sterling used to tell me they’re hotels for the ghosts of hikers lost on the trail.”
“What?” I burst into laughter.
He cracks a smile. “Such a great big brother.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I was a gullible teenager.”
Leo dumps his pack on the table, then moves to inspect the open fireplace. It’s been freshly stocked with pulled-apart kindling by whoever last passed through and takes little effort to spark using a matchbook.
“It’s more likely they were cobbled together by miners, shepherds, maybe even hunters in the olden times,” he clarifies. “Most are a few hundred years old, built by hand with whatever materials are close by.”
“And anyone can just use them?”
“Pretty much. You’ll find them all over the UK.”
Shedding my pack and coat, I tug off Sterling’s cap to wring out my short hair. The rain was so intense, it quickly soaked through the material. Already I’m shivering and goose pimpled.
“Come warm up,” Leo instructs, blowing to build the flames. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
We huddle together around the hearth, sitting on a crate used to carry wood. With my hands outstretched to seek the heat, I worry my bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, Leo.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” I admit on a whisper. “The last thing I want to do is hurt any of you.”
“It’s okay, Eden. Let’s forget it.”
“No. You have every right to expect honesty from me. I just . . . It’s complicated. My life before Hawkthorpe is a mess.”
He chuffs in amusement. “Whose isn’t? I’m hardly a poster boy for normality over here. And look at who we’re living with.”
“This is different.”
“So you keep saying.”
The fire crackles and spurts as it expands, gradually growing to devour the scavenged kindling. Rain beats against the filthy windows, trapping us in a bubble within the stone walls.
“I’ve never had this before,” I reveal, avoiding his side glance. “People who care enough to keep showing up no matter how much I push them away.”
“That’s me.” He attempts to lay on a cheerful tone, but it comes out strained.
“It’s not a bad trait to have, Leo. You’re a good person. I don’t know what I did to deserve the love you’re giving me.”
“Plenty.” His shoulder bumps into mine. “If it weren’t for you, Fletcher wouldn’t still be here, driving us insane. You convinced him to come home.”
“I did what anyone else would do when someone is hurting.”
“But could anyone else talk him off that ledge?” he counters.
Stooping to unlace my walking boots and place my sock-covered feet in front of the fire, I battle the hot flush his attention prickles me with.
“You really don’t see yourself like we do, huh?”
“Leo,” I plead.
“No, don’t shut me down. Don’t close yourself off or push me away.”
Standing from the crate, Leo moves to crouch directly in front of me where I can’t brush him off. His hands cup my knees, allowing him to lean close and let me observe how his mouth carves each word.
“I am hopelessly, desperately, irre-fucking-futably in love with you. I don’t care what this world-ending secret is because I think you are perfect.”
The balloon inflating behind my ribcage ruptures, tearing a hole in the fabric of my protective cocoon. More emotion than I can hold mirrors the storm raging outside to shred me into scattered atoms for him to collect.
And I let it.
For this man, I’ll come undone. Every last twisted scar and damaged piece of me hidden inside a human shell. I’ll surrender control of the defences I’ve allowed the years to erect just to keep me safe.
Because I’m loved.
I’m seen.
Grasping his face, I climb off the crater and into his lap, causing us both to fall onto the bare stone floor. Leo catches me and cushions the landing with his limbs, arms entwining around me to form a protective embrace.
And the truth erupts free.
“I love you too.”