“Sorry, just…” I shake my head.
“The slurping?” he asks.
“Yup, sorry. It’s your home, you can do what you want. I just get the ick when I hear people slurp drinks and crunch food. It’s my issue. Don’t worry.”
I’m pretty sure, at this point, that Aidan will be glad to see the back of me.
“How’re you settling in?” he asks, studiously looking at the quarter-inch thick sheet of wood he has clamped to the bench in front of him.
“G-good, thanks.”
“Good. Because…” He looks up at me. “You say it’s my home, and yeah, it is, but it’s yours too, y’know?” I don’t respond. I can’t. My emotions live in my throat, apparently, and it’s currently closed, rendering me speechless.
Instead, I nod.
“Rain and I both enjoy having you here. I know it’s not ideal living with a couple, but you’re welcome here for as long as you need. As long as you want, and if you want some help to find somewhere a bit more permanent in the new year, Rain’s already been looking on Rightmove.”
I chuckle at that, because what self-respecting person doesn’t look at Rightmove on the regular, even if they’re in no position to buy a house. I particularly enjoy digitally snooping around the odd £1.5 million country pile that comes up to get a glimpse at how the other half live.
“Thanks, Aidan. I really appreciate you guys putting me up. I’ll get out of your hair soon, though, I promise.”
“No rush,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “And listen, I know you and Rain must be shaken up after what happened to the boat yesterday, but I don’t want either of you to do anything stupid.” He looks at me, catching me in his direct gaze. His eyes are penetrating at times, and right now, I swear he can see that tiny seed trying to grow in the back of my mind. “Don’t. Leave. Not because of that. We’ll sort it out.” His eyebrows rise in challenge, and I’m caught in it like a fly in a trap. A long moment passes as I try to reconcile what he’s saying. Eventually, I relent.
“I won’t. I swear.”
“Good.”
I hate myself for crossing my fingersbehind my back as I make a promise I know damn well I’d break if it meant drawing the twat twins’ attention away from Rain.
I watch Aidan work for a while, his strong hands fumbling slightly with the delicate intricacy of the scrollwork he’s testing out. When I see him starting to get frustrated, I leave him to it and return to the house, where I take the time to video call Emma.
She’s spending Christmas with John, so I get the chance to speak to them both. Emma is halfway pissed, already having spent the day perfecting an eggnog recipe she found online. When John comes on the call, he leaves the room to speak to me privately.
“How’s it all going then, Corey?” John asks, concern in his voice. Concern for me, I now recognise, and I feel a pang of regret at having left him and Emma behind so suddenly.
“It’s good,” I reassure him, not wanting to ruin his Christmas by making him worry about me. John is a shrewd bugger, though. He looks at me, straight down the lens of the phone camera, and I swear he’s reading my mind.
“You remember what I said in that note?” he asks.
“That I could come back any time.” Henods.
“I meant that. I still do. There’s always a home for you here. I don’t know why I didn’t push you harder to come and stay with me while you were here, Corey. The only excuse I’ve got is that you didn’t seem to want to let anyone get too close. But I should have pushed. I knew the situation you were in, and I’m sorry I let it go on without saying anything or stepping in.” This is the most I think I’ve ever heard John speak. “Just know there’s a home here for you if you ever need it. With me, I mean. I’ve got more than enough space, and your job will always be there for you, too. I know you’re happy to be with your friend again, but you need to know you have options, and a family here if you want it.”
I sniffle and let out a small sob. “I want it, John. I do. The family, I mean. I haven’t had one for a very long time.”
He nods at me, stoic in his decisiveness that it’s a done deal. I smile at John, grateful beyond measure for the day I found him. And grateful for the escape route, should I ever need one.
After I get off the phone, I spend the evening in my room sketching. I’m drawing moreintentionally tonight. I have nothing to give anyone for Christmas except what I can create in this sketchbook. For Aidan and Rain, I’ve drawn a portrait of Pax. He was a terrible model and wouldn’t sit still when I wanted him to, but I’m happy with the result. For Aidan’s parents, I’ve drawn a sketch of their farm. And for Nash, I’ve sketched his home. The beautiful thatched house on the village green, complete with duck pond and the flowerbeds full of life and colour, as I imagine it will be in spring.
I’m nervous about seeing him tomorrow after that almost moment we had yesterday. But this is a small village, and having him go back to avoiding me like the plague isn’t going to cut it. We need to talk, and soon, but for now, I just need to bury these feelings, that little flame of hope, deep down inside, and not fuck up my new life over an unrequited crush.
Sixteen
Nash
Ihang up the phone and go straight to my laptop, opening my email and frantically refreshing the page again and again until finally an email from Abigail pops up.
She called to tell me the outcome of the adoption matching panel that happened this morning, and I can barely contain my excitement.
