Eiley hesitated for a long moment. Long enough to make him ache, because he wanted her to know she was safe with him, even if they had just been arguing. He didn’t understand how one person could bring out so many paradoxes in him: she made him gentle and rough, calm and stormy, kind and cruel.
They clearly weren’t supposed to be together, and yet they were here,being.
She lifted her face and nodded, defences lowered, anger dissipated.
Thatwas why Warren couldn’t walk away. Why he couldn’t give up. When she surrendered, he became weightless.
He became, somehow, hers.
23
“Here she is. My baby.” Eiley wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting him to drive, but it wasn’t the old, weathered Transit van parked at the base of Macaskill Ridge. When he patted the faded red bonnet with bizarre reverence, Eiley considered asking if he wanted some alone time with it-slash-her.
“She’s very …” She couldn’t even pretend she knew how to compliment such a sturdy vehicle, settling for, “robust. Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
She hoped it wasn’t the craggy trail up to Macaskill’s peak: she wasn’t nearly motivated enough for such a climb today, as lovely as the view of the loch was from the top.
“Not far, I promise.” He opened the passenger door for her, but she wasn’t quite ready to sit inside yet, twirling the tan hairband around her wrist nervously. She felt like a fool for breaking down in front of him – again. She wondered why he was still here, still putting up with her and all of her big, overwhelming feelings. Most people would have run a mile by now.
“Isn’t it a bit late to start caring about your safety?” he quipped when she didn’t move.
Defiantly, Eiley climbed into the passenger seat, fastening her belt with a challenging glare.
He smirked. She hated it.
And, secretly, loved it.
They drove with none of the awkward silence or forced small talk of their last journey the night of the flood, the pine air freshener and gentle warmth leaving her relaxed and lulled. With the town nearing, she assumed their destination was Belbarrow, and a flutter rose in her chest at the idea that he might be taking her to his house, or even just a place he knew better than her. He’d spent hours in her haven, yet she didn’t even know where to find him when he wasn’t on duty or helping her out.
She wanted to. Wanted to see who he was when nobody was looking.
Just before the welcome sign, he turned left, leading them away from the woods and the loch to the rolling hills and farmland that divided them from the next hamlet over.
As a teen, she’d often hiked over the paths forking off the main road with Cam. The landscape was steeped in a nostalgia that hadn’t embraced her in a while, memories of summers past drifting by in shades of green. It was easy to forget there’d been a life before the children and Finlay, but once, she’d just been a girl stumbling over dirt paths, wellies splashing through puddles and thorns tearing her clothes, eager to get home and read.
“I used to feed the horses in these fields as a kid,” she said with a smile. “We used to come up here to tire out our old dog, Roger, when he was a pup. And there used to be anabandoned farm up here where Cam always wanted to play hide and seek.”
Warren’s smile was serene, as though he was right there in the memories with her. Considering the way he’d snapped at her earlier, she found it surprising, how easy he was to talk to.
She lifted her brows when he turned at the signpost for Galbreath Farm, leading them down a narrow lane overgrown with bramble and blackberry bushes. “Oh, I don’t know if you can go much further. There’s nothing up here now.”
“I know. That’s the point,” he answered softly.
Only her earlier statement wasn’t true. For most of her life, the farm on the hilltop had been an empty, black patch of land save for a few crumbling walls and a collapsing barn left behind from a huge house fire. Somebody must have finally decided to recover the land, because the ruins had been replaced by a construction site, scaffolding fringing the foundations of a new home.
“Are we allowed here?” She shifted nervously.
“There’s no one here to stop us, is there?”
While it was lovely to see new beginnings, what, exactly, was going to make her feel better up here? Construction noises? Another fire hazard lecture, a story about how the bookstore could end up like Galbreath Farm if she wasn’t careful?
He pulled up on the soft grass and clicked free from his seatbelt wordlessly. Eiley did the same, though she was wary to get out. Even if it was empty, this was clearly someone’s land. Weren’t they trespassing?
Warren hopped out of the van and opened the door for her, urging her to join him on the grass. Reluctantly, she took his hand, smoothing the wrinkles of her leggings as her trainers hit firm soil.
It was beautiful up here. A few cows grazed in the field below, and the fence sequestering the land was wreathed by sweet briar and rosehip. As she inched closer to the edge of the hill, she found a cluster of apple trees dropping their ripe red fruit, squirrels scuttling over the branches.
When she reached the fence, she gasped. Belbarrow lay in the distance, a cluster of red-bricked homes and winding lanes framed by hills of plush purple heather. “I forgot you can see the whole town up here.”
