He shrugs lightly. “Spent a lot of time outdoors. You start to notice the difference in silences.”
There’s something in his tone—not heavy, just lived-in—that makes me want to ask what kind of outdoors he means, but I don’t. Instead, I nod, pretending to focus on the path.
It’s strange, this balance we’ve found. Two strangers walking in the rain, trading fragments of conversation that somehow feel more honest than anything I’ve said in months.
And it’s even stranger how much I don’t want it to end.
Chapter 5
Aaron
By the time wereach the village again, the rain has turned into that fine, soaking mist that clings to everything. My waterproof’s holding up, but my face feels raw, and my boots are carrying half the Dales with them.
Nancy’s voice cuts through the chatter ahead. “Come on, you two! Apple crumble and hot chocolate are in here!” She’s standing in the doorway of the pub, waving like a tour guide trying to herd stragglers.
Eve hesitates beside me. It’s barely noticeable, just a tiny pause before she moves, but I catch it. Most wouldn’t.
Over the years, I’ve gotten used to spotting that kind of hesitation—people who’d rather fade into the background than walk into a crowd. The army was full of them. Some loud to hide it, some quiet because they couldn’t help it.
There was one lad, years ago. Good bloke, but the noise and pressure got to him. He came from the same kind of place I did, where you took whatever work was going, and being shy wasn’t an option. He tried his best to fit in, but the army doesn’t make space for quiet people. I didwhat I could, but it wasn’t enough. He took his life on his birthday. I was on my way to take him to the pub.
That stayed with me.
Since then, I’ve learnt to notice the signs—the tightening of a jaw, the way someone’s shoulders lift as if bracing for impact.
And right now, Eve’s standing there with that same look.
I glance from her to the pub entrance, where laughter and steam are spilling through the open door, then back again. The noise will be too much for her. I can tell.
I spot something off to the side—three small wooden shelters tucked beside the building, each with a table and an outdoor heater. The smokers’ corner, by the looks of it, though even they’ve abandoned it in this weather. The space is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and the rain hits the roof in a soft, steady patter.
I turn to her. “If there are no other people, would you like some crumble and hot chocolate?”
She hesitates, then gives a small nod. “That sounds nice.”
“Good,” I say, and lead the way around the side of the building.
The air’s damp and cold, but it’s quiet here. The noise from the pub fades to a gentle buzz. I guide her to one of the benches and press the button for the heater. It clicks and hums before glowing faintly red, the warmth just enough to chase off the chill.
“Wait here,” I tell her. “I’ll get us the good stuff.”
She looks up, half smiling. “You don’t haveto—”
“I insist,” I say lightly, already stepping back. “Trust me, you don’t want to fight Nancy for dessert. She’s competitive.”
That earns the smallest laugh, but it’s real.
I head for the door, feeling the sting of the rain on my face and the warmth of that laugh following me inside.
It takes me ages to get to the front of the queue. The pub’s packed, every table full of damp walkers steaming gently in the warmth, and the air smells of cinnamon, gravy, and wet wool.
By the time I reach the bar, my jacket’s half-dry again. Thankfully, there’s still plenty of crumble left—golden and bubbling—and the hot chocolate’s being poured from one of those big silver urns that promise sweet deliciousness.
Alexandra, who’s working behind the bar, spots me and grins. “You’re cutting it fine, love. We nearly had a mutiny when the cream ran low.”
“Then it’s my lucky day,” I say. “Any chance I can get a tray? We are sitting outside.”
She slides one across, then adds two spoons and a napkin that sticks to my wet glove. “You’re braver than me, eating outside in this weather.”
