“Take a minute. Calm yourself, lad.”
Yeah, right.
Brix got out of the van and opened the back, for once not noticing the waft of stale chicken shit. Instead, he grabbed the roll of refuse sacks from the foot-well and set about gathering up the newspapers and straw left over from the last rescue run, a job he should’ve done weeks ago.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take as long as he hoped. He dumped the bag in a nearby bin, and then glanced north for the millionth time, searching for any sign of an incoming train. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Calum had gone back to London, a notion that made Brix sick to his stomach. I should’ve been with him. But hindsight was a wonderful thing. And while Brix regretted running out on Calum without telling him how much the night they’d spent together meant to him, he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything else, even though what had passed between them could never happen again.
Despite his diligent vigil, a train pulled into the station on the London line without him noticing its approach. His heart flipped. Calum’s train. It had to be. Calum’s text had said he’d be home by ten, a prospect that, six hours ago, had seemed like an unbearably long wait. So why was Brix’s heart in his throat now? When Calum was likely just a few minutes away? Because you’re about to tell him, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked up you really are.
“Brix?”
Brix jumped, though he’d been expecting Calum to appear at any moment. Idiot. “Hey.”
Calum grinned a little, though his dark eyes were wary. “Hey yourself. You all right?”
“Aye, I think so.”
“Did you get some sleep?”
“Nope. You?”
“Hell yeah. Slept like a baby on the train. Don’t worry about me, Brix. I’m fine.”
And as Brix stared at Calum, he saw that he really was. Though wary, Calum’s gaze was steady and strong, his half smile honest and true. He looked . . . lighter? Like a burden had slipped from his shoulders, despite the fact that he was carrying a box Brix hadn’t seen before.
Brix inclined his head towards it. “What you got there?”
“Dottie.”
“Dottie?”
“My coil from Black Star. Found her in a skip down the road from the shop.”
So he had been back to his old home in London. “Oh yeah? What else did you find?”
“Nothing that mattered. Rob was long gone, but I wasn’t after him anyway. Just wanted Dottie safe.”
“You look happy.”
Calum shrugged. “I am. I feel free . . . at least as free as I can be while you’re being so bloody vague.”
From anyone else, Calum’s statement would’ve seemed combative, but as Brix searched his face, he found nothing but concern-laced curiosity, and his own heart broke a little more. “I’m sorry, Cal. Guess you think I’m a bit mental, eh?”
“No, I think there’s something I don’t know, because that’s what you’ve told me, and I believe you. Progress, eh?”
It was indeed, but Brix found no joy in Calum’s acceptance, not yet, when it had still to face its greatest test. “Are you coming home?”
“Mate, I never really left. I only went out for the day.” Calum stepped forward when Brix didn’t respond, and took his hands. “Course I’m coming home. If you’ll have me?”
“Can we go for a drive first?”
“Whatever you need, Brix. I’m here.”
They drove out to some picturesque moorland, ten miles inland from Porthkennack. Calum watched the hills and fields slip by, and then cocked Brix a quizzical grin. “We’re not going to the sea?”
“Not this time. There’s more to Cornwall than getting wet, you know.”
It seemed answer enough for Calum. He settled in his seat, companionably silent, until Brix pulled into a deserted car park that looked out over the moors.
