12. Morgan
Chapter 12
Morgan
B y the end of the following week, I had a pretty solid to-do list for the gala compiled. What was less solid was the budget – Aaron had gone over in almost every area where he’d actually managed to do something – but that was Next Week Morgan’s problem. By five o’clock, Today Morgan was wholly concerned with the tall blonde man in a plaid shirt and hiking boots greeting Chloe at the front door.
When he saw me walking over to him, Jack stood up straight and gave a stilted wave. He looked as unsure of how to greet me as I felt about him. As I got close, he opened his arms out to the side in a gesture that could have solicited a hug or could have just meant something like “ta-da, I’m here!” if I wasn’t keen on a hug. I indulged it though, wrapping my arms partially around his middle as he folded his around my shoulders.
As he did, I couldn’t help but relax into the warmth of his chest a bit. He was a great hugger; not too tight, but tight enough that it felt intentional. Wanted. Way better than my fumbled attempt at a hug on the weekend away. And he smelled so good: like sawdust, and a hint of something deeper, like amber or musk. I’d never been a scent guru, but whatever this particular smell was, I was a fan.
And then I had the tragic, humiliating realisation that I was hugging Jack for the first sober time ever and was actually sniffing him. Like, full-on inhaling through the nose multiple times to get a good whiff. Was I even capable of not humiliating myself in front of him?
I was instantly desperate to save face, so I pulled away and tried to confidently meet his eye.
“You smell like sawdust. Did you come from work?”
Jack smiled, and I got the sense he had noticed the sniffing but decided to ignore it. “I went home first. Trust me, if I’d come straight from work, there would be a lot more actual sawdust in my wake. But the smell does tend to linger.”
I smiled back, thankful for the save.
“You ready to go?”
I lifted my bag in answer. “Sure am.”
“Have fun you two,” Chloe said, and I looked back at her to find her smiling in a very strange and disconcerting way.
I followed Jack back out into the sunshine and to his car, which I recognised from the weekend before. It was a retro Land Rover Defender, with army-green paint on the lower half of the sides and a white top. The big black roof rack on top was empty today, but I imagined Jack used it regularly from what he’d said about his hobbies. I climbed into the passenger seat through the door Jack held open, nodding my thanks before he shut me in and moved around to his own side.
He offered me the auxiliary cable; the car was old enough that it didn’t have Bluetooth, I guessed. I plugged in my phone and chose a playlist I thought would be good, pressing shuffle; a Death Cab for Cutie song called “No Room in Frame” came on.
“Not this one,” Jack said, and it took me a moment to realise he was talking about the song. I looked up at him to see that he was pressed fully against the seat, his arms tense against the steering wheel. I skipped to the next track, and as Noah Kahan poured through the speakers, he visibly relaxed. Weird. I filed that one away for later speculation.
Happy with the music at last, Jack put the car in gear and turned out onto the A road. He had told me it would be nearly an hour until we got there, so I hung my arm out the window and let myself relax into the moment. The shopping centres and suburban estates gave way gradually to rolling hills and patchwork farmland, the lush greens of the grass and trees accented by pops of yellow gorse. I’d seen landscapes exactly like this hundreds of times in passing, but this was different. Maybe because I was here specifically to enjoy it, I noticed it in a way I never had before: the different types of hedgerows demarcating the farmland; the shadows cast over the fields by the tiny, fast-moving clouds; even the potholes in the road getting more and more prevalent as we got further out of town. And I looked over at Jack every now and then, admiring that view, too.
Before long, we found ourselves on terrifyingly tiny one-lane tracks, where the branches of trees we passed or from the hedges lining the road came dangerously close to scratching the car. The passing points were few and far between, and even then I doubted another car would be able to get through. Yes, we were essentially in a tank, and I had no doubt we’d come out literally on top if anything happened. But funnily enough, picturing those scenarios didn’t exactly make my grip on the door loosen as Jack barrelled down the roads, slowing only when we came to sharp bends or junctions. We only encountered another car once, and thankfully we were only a little ways past a passing point, so Jack reversed a hundred metres or so to let them squeeze through. And I knew it was a cliché even as it was happening, but when he put his hand on my seat and looked over his shoulder to reverse, I swooned a little.
Miraculously though, we made it to the car park without incident, and I jumped out of the car onto the ground, pulling the sweet, slightly manure-y country air deep into my lungs. Jack offered me a bottle of suncream, and I applied it as he shuffled things around in his backpack.
“I brought you a water bottle,” he said, holding it out to me. I took a sip and then handed it back, where it disappeared inside his bag again. If I’d had a competence kink, it would have been over for me then and there; he was clearly operating at Scout levels of preparation.
And then we were off, heading up a well-defined path that went straight up a hill. The gradual incline followed a ridge overlooking valleys on either side. I easily matched Jack’s pace as I walked behind him, to the point that I suspected he was shortening his gait considerably for my sake.
A long while later, just as I was wondering if our previous conversations were a fluke and the silence of the drive here would persist the whole hike, the trail opened up a bit wider, and Jack dropped back to walk next to me instead of in front of me.
“Thanks for suggesting this,” he said. “I haven’t hiked with anyone else in years.”
“Well, I need all the XP I can get before October, don’t I?”
“True,” he said, smiling softly. It was nice to see him so at ease; so in his element. “But I’m still grateful for the company.”
The scenery was beautiful, with views over the blue and green landscape for miles and miles around. Our steps fell into sync as we climbed the hill, which was now getting steeper and steeper. I intentionally dragged my heels as I walked, timing my inhales so the sound of my shoes in the gravel would mask my embarrassingly loud breathing. I wondered if continuing to talk would make it better or worse.
I asked about his family, so he told me about his parents, and how different they were, but how sometimes he would still catch them snogging in the kitchen like a couple of teenagers. About his sister Amy, whose most recent breakup was basically a non-event for everyone but their mother. And he brought up Chloe and Phil, too; I’d known they went way back, but I hadn’t realised just how close they’d been, and for how long.
Our fingers brushed against each other briefly a couple of times as we walked, setting sparks flying through my hand.
“What about your family?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t have a dad,” I said, pleasantly surprised at how unlaboured I sounded. “I was a donor baby. But Mum and I were always close. Until she decided a few years ago that life was too short and the world too big to stay in Bradford until she keeled over, so she went travelling. Now she’s even sold the house.”
“You’re northern?” Jack asked, his voice pitching up dramatically in surprise.
“I know, I don’t have the accent. Blame Cara. Her posh accent dulled the edges of mine.”
“It must be hard having your mum so far away,” he said. “So when you go home, where do you go?”
“That’s a great question. I’ll let you know when Mum gets back, if she actually does come back.”
“And no brothers or sisters? Grandparents? Wealthy, eccentric third cousins?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”
“Wow. That must be so lonely. Your mum’s on the other side of the world, and now Cara’s moved away?”
I didn’t say anything at first, not sure how much of my recent loneliness to admit. It had been hard, but in an almost embarrassing way. The fact that my life had been so wrapped up in one other person that I felt lost without them? And not even a partner or family member, but a friend? It felt … well, a bit pathetic.
I kept my eyes fixed on the crest of the hill still a long way ahead of us. Jack must have mistaken my consideration for offence though, as he jumped in to apologise.
“I’m sorry, that was insensitive to bring up.”
“Not at all,” I assured him. “You’re not wrong. It’s just a weird thing to admit. But hey, plus a hundred XP for paying attention.”
He paused for a long moment, and all I could hear was the scuff of our shoes on the gravel, our laboured breathing, and the rush of wind. I was expecting something snarky about emotional XP in reply, but it never came.
“Has Chloe told you about my hermit months?” he finally asked.
“Yes, because Chloe and I get paid to sit around and talk about you all day,” I said, smirking at him out of the corner of my eye. He laughed, just as his fingers brushed against mine again.
“Fair enough. Well, when Aria and I split up, I was in a pretty bad place. I came home and basically didn’t leave the farm for six months other than to buy food or building supplies. I built my house all on my own, and I fixed up the Defender, camping on site the whole time.”
“Wow. Very Bob the Builder of you.”
He shrugged. “I liked it. Designing the house, figuring out how to integrate it with such an aggressively altered landscape…” His voice turned wistful. “But the point is, I had a lot to process. I’d spent almost seven years as half of a pair, and I needed to get to know myself as a person without her. I had to do that in my own way. And Chloe and Phil respected that. They forced me to eat with them once a week, all of us together, but they put on a film so I didn’t have to talk. They’d even come sit with me whilst I worked, and hand me tools and stuff. They never made me talk. They were just there for me.”
I swallowed the feelings that were building listening to him talk about his built-in support network that I very much didn’t have, despite what Chloe had said. “Is this supposed to make me feel less alone?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not saying this well. What I’m trying to say is, you’ll work through it at your own pace. And in the meantime, no pressure to talk it out if you don’t want to.”
I smiled up at him. “That’s really lovely, Jack. Thank you.”
We came to a stop as we reached what looked to be the highest point on the ridge, where a small rock formation marked the summit. I made sure to get a good look at the view we’d worked so hard to reach. And it really was stunning.
A cloud passed in front of the sun, throwing us into shadow, which made all the colours around us come to life. Jack and I both pushed our sunglasses up onto our heads to see better.
“That’s Wales,” Jack said, pointing to the ridge on our left, and then to the right. “And that’s England.”
“Amazing,” I said, in a way that probably sounded trite, but I was genuinely amazed. The hills to our right – England, apparently – formed a dramatic cliff, and sparse low-hanging clouds drifted along it, only about halfway up the cliff face. The wind rushed at us, even though it hadn’t been a particularly breezy day back at the car, and I leaned into it. It felt like we were on top of the world. Like there was nothing I couldn’t do.
“How do you feel?” Jack asked, and I turned to see him smiling, because he already knew the answer. I was sure it was written all over my face.
“I feel invincible.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, the brilliant green of them glinting in the sunlight. He looked genuinely thrilled for me, and maybe something more. Something that I was sure I was reflecting right back at him.
I stepped off the rock and over to him, feeling emboldened both by the hike and the way he was looking at me. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached out and put a hand on his forearm.
“Thank you, Jack. I really wouldn’t have done this without you. And I would have been missing out.”
“I’m just happy you got the chance,” he said, his voice low and rough, and as I dropped my hand, he reached his out, our fingers brushed against one another. Looking up at him, his face was just inches from mine, and I got flashbacks to floating in front of him in the river. As if the current were still pushing me, I stepped forward slightly, and I saw him look down at my mouth as I did. I took the chance to admire his, too, and the slight golden stubble on his jawline, and the muscled line of his neck. His fingers pressed gently between mine so they were somewhat entwined. By the time my eyes made it back to his, I was certain this could only be headed in one direction, and I tilted my chin up just a bit more, waiting for him to close the gap between us.
But instead he took a big step back, his fingers dropping away from mine, and frowned.
“Sorry,” he said firmly. But he didn’t sound sorry. The shift in his tone so jarring, in fact, that it was like he’d become a completely different person.
“Sorry,” he said again, “but I think you’ve got the wrong idea here.”