“Yes, we’re exclusive. Yes, you’re mine. No, I’m not seeing anyone else. Was there more you needed clarified?”
She stares at me, mouth opening and closing like she can’t process the bluntness. “Right. Good. That’s… settled then.”
“Aye. It is.”
Bloody hell, the relief on her face. Like she expected me to laugh and mention my rotation schedule. She curls back into me, tucking herself against my side.
“I’m nervous about Jake coming, in case he suspects something,” she admits. “Even though I miss him terribly.”
I pause. “I think we should tell him.”
Her eyes snap up, wide with alarm. “Tell Jake? Why?”
“Keeping secrets goes against my nature. I want to be able to look my mate in the eye without feeling like a lying bastard.”
“I don’t think I’m ready. Can we wait a bit?”
“Georgie, I’m not sneaking around like a bloody teenager. If I keep this from him, I’m betraying him. If he finds out from someone else, it’ll be worse. You think he’s protective now? Try him thinking I’ve been hiding this behind his back.”
She sits up, panic flashing in her eyes. “Not yet. Please.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” She struggles. “He still sees me as his little sister who needs protecting. And Jake’s gotten even more protective because of my last relationship. And I don’t want to cause ripples in your friendship. I’m telling you, he won’t like it.”
She deflates. “I just need time to figure out how to tell him without him going full protective brother mode.”
“Don’t worry about me and Jake. Is there something else I need to know about your ex? The reason Jake’s so protective?”
Her face closes off completely. “It’s not worth talking about. I don’t want to talk about my ex while I’m naked in your bed. It feels wrong.”
“I’m not asking for pillow talk. I’m asking because I need to understand what I’m dealing with.”
“It’s nothing, really. You just need to give me time to tell Jake.”
From what she’s said before, her ex was a jerk. Most of us are at twenty, I suppose. But the way he gave her the silent treatment after she broke her ankle on Snowdon? What sort of prick punishes his partner for getting injured?
Maybe I should ask Jake. He’d know the whole story.
I don’t like this. I pride myself on being honest and direct. I’d rather face Jake’s anger head-on than live with deception. But I can see she’s genuinely distressed.
“I don’t like it,” I say. “But if it buys you peace, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now.”
THIRTY-THREE
Cute as a button
Georgie
I’m curled up inone of the tartan armchairs in the lobby with a book in my lap. The words might as well be gibberish. What I’m actually doing is listening for helicopter blades while pretending to be deeply absorbed in chapter twelve of what I’ve just realized is a book about murders in Scotland.
I know exactly when they should be landing. I’ve calculated it based on when they left Inverness, factored in the wind, checked three different weather apps, and briefly considered calling air traffic control just to be sure. It sounds obsessive because it absolutely is. Two of the most important men in my life are up inthat flying tin can, and every time Patrick climbs into that thing, my brain starts running crash statistics, failure rates, and every possible way it could fall out of the sky.
Ever since our fishing trip last week, things have been suspiciously good. The kind of good that makes you want to spit three times over your shoulder and knock on wood just in case the universe notices you’re happy and decides to fuck with you.
Somehow, I’ve been spending every night at his cottage.
I’d imagined being with Patrick would mean pretending to enjoy dangling from those terrifying tents they bolt to cliff faces, smiling through hypothermia just to be near him. But underneath all that adrenaline-junkie swagger, he’s still just a regular guy.
