The cyclist had caught her on the ribs, low down and behind her elbow; it was already beginning to throb. But there was no pain, not yet anyway.
‘I think so,’ she said, regaining her balance and ready to step back, away from him.
Rather than relinquishing his hold on her, Tad took both her hands in his and even though he took a step away, his focus on her remained total as he looked her up and down.
‘Are you sure you aren’t hurt? Fucking idiots – they came out of nowhere.’
Amy would be lying if she pretended she wasn’t enjoying his outrage on her behalf. It had been a long time since anyone had leapt so swiftly to her defence. It felt good.
‘I suppose I didn’t look, so it was partly my fault.’
Tad shook his head as he gazed at her. ‘No. I stick by my descriptor. Those idiots should never have been travelling so fast, especially with all these people around. They didn’t even stop to check you’re OK.’
Amy glanced about, becoming aware of the tight groups of people chatting as they criss-crossed along the walkways, the single hikers, more determined in their gait, the couples with hands linked, wandering as though they had all the time in the world for one another.
Never mind the cyclists, she hadn’t been aware of any of the other people, she realised, not since she’d stood beside Tad to stare out at the view. It had been as though they were the only two people standing on the mountain. Except that was all in her mind, a nonsense her subconscious had dreamt up and, bottom line was, she should have been more aware of her surroundings.
As the adrenalin spike began to dissipate, the dull throb in her ribs began to give way to something more demanding. A pain zeroing in with the ferocity of an arrow at the base of her ribs, where they curved around in protection of her lungs and started the ascent towards her breastbone.
‘Ouch.’ With her left hand still in Tad’s grasp, she leant on him and pulled her right hand free to feel for the source of the pain. Fingers gingerly edged their way across the thin material of her T-shirt as she searched for what had been the point of impact. Turning to look, she hooked up the edge of the material, trying to see if the skin was broken, or simply bruised.
An angry red mark was beginning to indicate the point of impact, but as far as Amy could tell, her skin wasn’t broken, or bleeding. She was going to have a heck of a bruise, though, and as she turned to Tad to tell him as much, the grin spreading across her lips halted its progress as she took in his expression. He was staring at her ribs, where the fabric was still rucked up under her fingers. He looked confused, or perplexed, or perhaps it was another emotion she couldn’t identify. Either way, Amy pulled at the T-shirt, covering up her skin and dampening her smile.
Tad still had hold of her hand, and as he dragged his gaze back to hers it felt like he was going to say something. It felt to Amy as though his gaze had deepened, become more demanding. It felt as though, if she edged forward, he might lean in and kiss her.
Amy remained frozen in place for what felt like an aeon, as she danced with the idea of stepping forward and tipping her face towards his. Taking the initiative and throwing caution to the wind. Seeing where impulse might take her. Not overthinking.
She inched towards him, spurred on when his gaze stayed focused on hers, and their fingers remained enmeshed.
‘Tad, I?—’
‘I think you’re going to have a bit of a bruise there…’ he said, talking over the top of her. The over-loudness of his words broke the moment, and when he squeezed her fingers more firmly before he disentangled his hand from hers, Amy took the hint.
‘Perhaps we should head back,’ she said.
13
Hugh watched Tad and Amy as they wandered back into view. He frowned, checking the time. They hadn’t been gone long enough to have made significant ‘getting to know one another’ progress. Damn it. Slotting his bookmark between the pages of his book and setting it aside, he tipped his face to the sun, scrunching up his eyes to look as though they were closed.
It was none of his business and he shouldn’t be so invested. Kathleen had said as much when he’d mentioned his observations to her, and she’d made a fair case against him meddling in other people’s business.
‘Keep your nose out of other people’s lives,’ she’d said in her bold antipodean accent. ‘Surely by now you’ve worked out people will do what people want to do, regardless of what an old goat like you has to say about it. I always find the more you try to steer people in one direction, the harder they fight to go the complete opposite way.’
He supposed a desire to do right by other people had started because of him and Brian becoming a couple. Before that, he’d bumbled along feeling resentful, a young man confused by the way he didn’t seem to fit into the life path intended for him.
Hugh had tried so hard to fall in love with his girlfriend, Helen, even though he found her impossible to navigate, both emotionally and physically. It was why the relief of meeting Brian at Helen’s sister’s wedding came with an enormous caveat. For the first time in his existence, Hugh’s life began to make sense, and yet…
He supposed he’d always known his decision to be with Brian would be tough on the rest of his family. Homosexuality might have been decriminalised by then, but not being illegal was worlds away from being accepted. Especially in the closeted, sleepy rural villages of Dorset. He had no choice but to learn to understand why his parents broke all contact with him, and once he and Brian had moved away why they began telling people he’d died.
Didn’t stop Hugh paying the bills when first his father, then his mother needed to be placed in care homes. He hoped they’d realised he still loved them, despite it all.
And it didn’t stop Hugh thanking his lucky stars for finding Brian, however complicated their relationship had made his life. Because without Brian, Hugh wasn’t sure he’d ever have found true happiness.
Brian always told him he was too soft for his own good, but it wasn’t being soft. That implied weakness, and Hugh wasn’t weak. If he’d been weak, he would have married Helen. Instead, he’d chased his own dreams, and nowadays there was nothing Hugh enjoyed more than seeing someone else realise they could do the same.
As Amy and Tad drew nearer, he slowly opened his eyes, like a lizard basking in the sun.
‘Back already?’ he asked, his tone feather-light, his focus intense.
