Joe appeared at my shoulder. “What are you grinning about?”
I didn’t fancy admitting that I’d been daydreaming about his mum, so I shrugged and turned the gas on under the pan. “Just happy to be alive, man.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I reckon that kale sludge sends you bananas.”
“What’s wrong with being happy?”
“Nothing, it just probably means you haven’t lived.”
I wasn’t in the mood to challenge that bullshit, and I knew Joe enough by now to know there was little point. He wore his cynicism like a second skin—spiky and tough—and didn’t respond well to attempts to break through his walls. “If you say so.”
The sausages hit the pan, sizzling and popping, fat leaching out of them. My stomach turned, but I tried to ignore it and then forced myself to when reasoning with my skewed logic didn’t work.I will not be hard on myself today.The affirmation was an old friend, and one I used with my patients too, but today, Joe’s close proximity turned out to be the push I needed to step away from the past.
He chucked his own huge pan on the stove and lit another burner. His shoulder bumped me, and I shivered. His dark eyes found mine. I lost myself briefly in the liquid depths, but I couldn’t tell if he’d noticed my reaction to him. Joe was a perfect contradiction—thoroughly predictable and yet impossible to read.
Fat spat out of the sausage pan and splattered my arm. The sting broke the spell. I tore my gaze from Joe’s and peered at the sausages, bracing myself for another ripple of disgust, but my stomach rebelled and growled, and for the first time in years, I stared at a puddle of saturated fat and wanted to eat it.
The sensation surprised me, but Joe didn’t give me the chance to process it. He reached across me for the salt and his hair brushed my cheek, the nape of his neck inches from my face.
Not for the first time, I wanted to put my lips on him. Most days he was a complete twat, but in moments like these, when he wasn’t glaring or snapping, he was so wonderfully human that I forgot myself.
“Sling them bangers in here.”
“What?”
Joe nudged me, sending another jolt of electricity surging through my veins. “Give me the sausages.”
I tipped the contents of my pan into Joe’s, noting the healthy selection of vegetables he’d added to his onions while I’d been under his thrall—carrots, peppers, tomatoes—and trying not to recoil in horror as he lobbed in two cans of Heinz baked beans.
And failed, apparently. “What’s the face for now?”
I schooled my features. “What face?”
“The one Ma gets when I flick broccoli at the cats.”
“You don’t like broccoli?”
Joe shuddered, and I swear I felt the vibration in my toes. “Fuck no. It looks like liquidised boy scouts when she cooks it.”
I had noticed Sal’s habit of boiling her veg like they’d been to Chernobyl and back. “It’s nice when you treat it right.”
“So are horses, but you still seem shit-scared of them.”
He had me there. I’d only managed to befriend the donkeys so far, and that was mainly because they were so noisy and cartoon-cute that I couldn’t bring myself to be afraid of them. “Which horse do you think is the friendliest? I’ve got a different answer from everyone so far.”
At that, Joe smiled, revealing a set of teeth that were unfairly white, given the amount he seemed to smoke. “Let me guess... Emma said Tauna, George plumped for Noel, and the young ’uns said Flea?”
I laughed. “How did you know?”
“Because everyone has their favourites and their reasons for loving them. Tauna brings Emma out of her shell. Shame she’s too knackered to ride, really, ’cause I reckon Emma would go anywhere with her. And George and Noel have been pals for life. George delivered that foal before I was born... oldest idiots here, them two.”
“What about Flea?”
“He’s a Shetland,” Joe said. “And he eats Hula Hoops off your fingers. Of course the kids are going to go for him.”
“So...” I watched Joe stir up what appeared to be an enormous pot of stew. “What’s the real answer?”
“Mani,” Joe replied like it was obvious. “He’s a true elder. You ever feel like giving up on this shit, go see him and tell him I sent you.”
