He needed to accept it never would be, because he couldn’t keep dancing in this limbo.
15
“Mum, did you know that fire makes poisonous gases that can burn your lungs and kill you?”
Eiley snapped her head up at Brook’s disturbing fact, almost cutting her finger with the scoring knife in the process. Disorder surrounded her on all sides of the bookstore’s counter: torn cardboard, glue, thread, and, worst of all, Harper’s damaged books. All week, she’d been trying to save them from certain death by dusting off her old bookbinding supplies. She’d never been much good at the craft, but she was trying – with the help of Bookstagram tutorials. The hobby had once been a way to relax and rediscover her creativity after Brook was born. But then life had got too busy, and Finlay had complained the supplies were cluttering the living room, so she’d packed it in.
Until she’d found the old kit while moving back into Mum’s over the weekend. It had felt like fate, striking a match in her – and perhaps offering a distraction from all the things that were going wrong. She’d managed to complete two new copies already, replacing the ruined covers ofThe Lost Princesswith fresh hardcovers created from old journals and recycledfabric, restitching the pages into a stronger spine. She’d only sent the loose papers sprawling into disorder across the floor twice so far, which was surely a win.
Meanwhile, Sky taught Saffron how to glue dried autumn leaves onto paper by the window. She hoped Maggie wouldn’t mind the haphazard decorations for this weekend’s autumn festival book stall.
It was difficult to focus on any of that, though, when her seven-year-old was talking aboutburning lungs.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s very disturbing, Brook.”
Brook’s gap-toothed grin shone with pride. “Thank you.”
“I don’t suppose you learned this from Warren?”
Warren, who seemed to be everywhere at the moment. Warren, who had looked more irresistible than ever at school yesterday despite clearly not owning an iron. She’d tossed and turned all night at the thought of that navy, slim-fitting uniform: the way the buttons had stretched a little too taut around his chest, black belt cinching in his narrower waist so that his overpowering shoulders had looked wider than ever. The way she’d not so long ago had her legs wrapped around him, possibly about to experience something she’d only ever read about in her books. And then, when she’d fallen asleep, he’d followed her there, a dream-version who had been eager to dip his head between her legs. The swirl of his tongue against her centre had felt so real that she’d jolted awake, wet and wanting. As she’d ground her core against her pillow she’d tried to imitate the way he’d toyed with her breasts and roved over her stomach, but her hands weren’t big, rough, new enough to trigger that same pleasure. Even after an orgasmhad passed hazily through her, she hadn’t felt satisfied. She’d tried again, fingers this time, but in the end, she’d been too tired and too frustrated to finish, as was often the case. Only, usually, she could move past it. When she thought of him, claws sank into her and wouldn’t stop, stomach coiling but never snapping.
It was becoming a problem. Especially since he’d clearly moved on. She’d overheard him getting Blair’s number and couldn’t deny that the pairing made far more sense: where Eiley was top-heavy and too tired to wear makeup most days, the teaching assistant always looked flawless, an immaculate hourglass figure, like a preppy plus-sized model, always clad in trendy, clinging outfits that accentuated her curves beautifully. As far as Eiley knew, she was single. No strings or hostility or overprotective brothers to get in the way. She was younger than Eiley – mid-twenties at most – and great with Sky when he attended the forest school programme three times a week. And, yes, it was silly to compare herself, but she couldn’t help it.
Perhaps them dating would be a good thing. Warren would leave Eiley be, and they could move on from whatever this was.
Once Brook forgot about that fire safety talk, at least.
He nodded passionately now. “He also told me that if you get third-degree burns, that means you have to go to the hospital and get new skin—”
“Okay, that’s enough of that, thank you!” Eiley interrupted, shuddering at the idea. Burning herself on the oven when cooking chicken nuggets was bad enough, never mindwhatever horrors Warren saw at work. “Warren shouldn’t be telling you about such awful things when you’re so young.”
Brook propped his chin on the counter. “He said it’s important to know in case there’s an emergency, especially because it’s nearly Fireworks Night.”
“Aye, well, we don’t go to Fireworks Night, do we? Too noisy.” Sky would never cope with the loud bangs, even with his noise-cancelling earphones on. Eiley couldn’t stand them, either. She’d jumped out of her skin earlier at the mere sound of a car horn.
“Fires can happen anywhere, Mum.” He rolled his eyes likehewas the parent, she the child. She’d always joked that she’d given birth to a granddad, but now she was afraid it was true. Or, worse, that he’d picked up on Warren’s tendency to lecture. “Those candles you light at home might start one, you know.”
“Oh, is that so?” She cocked her head, half-amused and half-offended. “Why don’t you help Sky and Saff with the decorations and leave the fire safety to me, aye?”
Brook gave a drawn out, “Fiiiiine,” and joined his siblings at their makeshift arts and crafts station.
She rubbed her tired eyes, muttering an, “Unbelievable,” at the thought of Warren giving the same patronising lectures to a bunch of school children as he had her. Was he determined to have everyone in town fearing for their lives?
Well, the joke was on him: Eiley already feared everything. It was part of the reason she’d taken so long to pass her driving test. Why she’d spotted Sky’s autistic traits so early on because she’d been “paranoid”, as Finlay had put it, whenhe’d been crying often and shying away from touch. It had taken several opinions and a lot of dismissals until, finally, a doctor had acknowledged his struggles and encouraged a diagnosis. Finlay had labelled her ahelicopter mumwhenever she’d hovered around many of the kids at the park to make sure they weren’t kidnapped or hurt. Maybe if he’d helped her to feel safer, she wouldn’t have been so bad.
Now, she’d found a man who was the complete opposite: overly cautious to the point of absurdity.
Well, she wouldn’t have it. And she wouldn’t havehimmaking false promises to Brook, either. She hardly believed Warren would pop into the shop just to read with him once they were up and running again.
When the door sounded, Eiley stashed away the newly decorated books and swept the craft supplies into the drawer beneath the counter. Just in time, as Harper appeared in the doorway with Fraser and Bernard not far behind.
“It’s not looking too bad in here!” Harper announced, and then rushed over to give the kids a big cuddle. Eiley did the same for Bernard, kneeling to stroke his fluffy brown coat. She was rewarded with a wagging tail and lots of licks.
“It’s still going to be a while before we can open, which means still no proper signing event for you.” She sighed mournfully into Bernard’s fur, which smelled like blankets and sawdust. Already, she missed her quiet mornings here. Even missed chatting with customers, which she’d never thought possible. Work had begun on the flat upstairs too, the incessant drilling and banging keeping her away until the workmen left in the afternoons, but she’d been spending as much time here as possible.
At the moment, the focus was on the autumn festival, so she’d spent several hours pricing any books that were still in one piece, as well as painting an old jam jar for customers to donate any spare change. It would go into fixing the store quicker and replacing damaged stock, an idea Maggie had loved. Though it was a quiet wee business, Thorn & Thistle had been around for long enough that she hoped the community might show some extra support.
“It’ll get there.” Fraser patted Eiley’s shoulder. “How’s it been, being back at Mum’s?”
