Sev shakes his head. “Nooo, not a chance. You taking that room means I have a bona fide excuse to be anywhere but here.”
Knew it.
But the fire in Sev’s tone gets Sol’s attention. He tosses a piece of bread on his plate, appetite eclipsed by whatever this is. “Don’t be like that, it’s shitty.”
“It’strue,” Sev combats. “I have a job in London—a fucking life. I can’t keep running back here becauseyoudon’t know how to do anything that’s doesn’t involve a fishing net.”
Sol glares, but lets the barb land. And it pisses Sev off more. He shoves his chair back and blows out of the room, stomping downstairs. A moment later, a door slams and Sol’s only reaction is a tired sigh that earns him a side hug from Oscar.
“Do not be sad. He is grumpy because the boy with all the hair went back to America.”
Sol leans against Oscar with platonic ease that makes my heart ache for Vinnie. “Sure he’ll find a way for that to be my fault too.”
“No, he will be back soon enough to say sorry.” Oscar releases Sol with a fist bump to his shoulder, returning to his breakfast.
I make myself look at Jack. He stopped eating a while ago and now he watches Sol brood with a deepening frown on his face. Apainfulfrown, until he senses my focus on him and schools his features. “Sev does all the social media and admin for the pub. Sol’s not here enough and I can’t use a phone.”
“Why not?”
Jack raises an arm etched with rough military ink and points at his face. “Screens fuck me up.”
He speaks with finality. As if there’s nothing more to say. Questions dance on my lips, but Sol snaps to and breaks the awkward silence before I can.
“Do you think this place has changed a lot since you were last here?”
“This place?”
“The town,” Sol clarifies. “It felt like another planet when I came back.”
“How long were you gone?”
“A year or two.” Sol’s gaze flickers.
Jack rises and leaves the room. It’s less dramatic than Sev’s exit, but I see it hit Sol far harder. He flinches, hurt clouding his face—real pain. But I can’t grasp the subtext. Full of food and lulled by Oscar’s easy presence beside me, I’m slow, lack of sleep catching up with me in ways it never did when I had a weapon in my hands or a chute strapped to my back. Before every pulse in my chest became something to fear. I don’tunderstand, and vicious frustration heats my blood, a sudden agitation as unfamiliar to me as the grief on Sol’s lovely face.
Fix it.
It fucking kills me that I don’t know how. And that I don’t know what to do with Sol’s emotion. He’s always been like this, open and pure. It’s the Bosanko way—it was Vinnie’s way too.But I’m a Gallagher, we’re born emotionally constipated, and a lifetime of being anywhere but here hasn’t cured me.
Sol hauls himself to his feet and goes to find Jack and mend whatever I broke.
It leaves me with Oscar, who’s studying his phone screen again, checking his post breakfast numbers.
Happy with what he sees, he pockets the phone and I wonder if my abrasive personality is about to clear a room in record time, but he stays, leaning back in his seat to give me the same side-hug he gave Sol. No advice, no solutions. Just comfort.
I like him already. When his embrace tapers off, I stand and move to the kitchen window, scanning the harbour, and the pickpockets and scammers already setting up on the sea wall. “Early for the rascals, isn’t it?”
Oscar follows my gaze, tall enough to see what I’m talking about without having to stand. “They are here all day now.”
“Bikers getting lazy?”
Oscar shrugs. “What bikers?”
“Rebel Kings back in the day. They owned every brick in this town and you couldn’t buy a bag of weed without some righteous eejit on a Harley chasing you off.”
Jack reappears as I say it, rubbing the same eye I couldn’t find peace with yesterday. I’m over it now, but I don’t like how he’s mauling it. Like he wants it out of his skull. It disturbs me and I knock his hand, stopping him.
He blinks and I wonder if he’ll thump me. If I’ll let him. But he just nods and I’m more bewildered than ever.
