I need movement, and not just the back-and-forth pacing in my bedroom.If I were in London, I wouldn’t consider venturing out on my own this late at night, but this is Honeywell Hollow.The crime rate here is practically non-existent.
And I’m afraid if I don’t burn off some of this energy and quiet my mind, a walk around the neighbourhood won’t be far enough for me, and I might give in to my itchy feet.
CHAPTER TWELVE ~ FIONA
This was a bad idea.
As soon as I stepped outside half an hour ago and sucked in a deep lungful of fresh air, I could smell rain.It’s April, of course it smells like rain, I told myself.
With no destination in mind, I’d turned left at the end of the driveway and walked.It didn’t take long for my mind to feel clearer and my limbs looser.When the rain started about ten minutes ago, I simply raised my hood and kept walking, enjoying the pitter-patter of it and the way the streetlights reflected off the puddles.
After all, I live in London and spend a lot of time in countries that are known for their rainfall, so a little rain wasn’t enough to stop me.That feeling lasted until the first cold drop of rain somehow snaked its way inside my jacket.Now my skin is so clammy, I might as well not even bewearinga jacket.
Through the downpour, a pair of headlights from behind me reflect in a nearby puddle.I haven’t encountered a single vehicle or person—not even a late-night dog walker—which tells me most normal people are tucked away in their warm, dry houses, likely even in bed, considering the hour.
“You’re not in London anymore, Dorothy,” I murmur to myself.As if in confirmation, a fat raindrop falls from the rim of my hood and boops me on the nose.
The headlights come closer, and a truck appears in my periphery, driving much slower than necessary.The passenger window slides down, and a voice calls over the sound of rain: “Out for a stroll?Beautiful night for it.”
A relieved laugh spills out of me when I realize it’s Nathan.The truck has come to a stop now, and I squint through the rain to see him leaning casually against the steering wheel, watching me with a smile.An actualsmile.Atme.It fades quickly as he gets a better look at me.A full-blown frown has taken over by the time he unhooks his seatbelt to lean across the bench seat and open the passenger side door.
“You’re soaked, Fi.Get in.”
As I climb into the truck on shaky legs, Nathan puts my window up and turns on the heat.I’m instantly surrounded by his familiar cedarwood and peppermint scent.The smell intensifies as he shifts closer and twists to rummage around in the backseat.His shoulder brushes mine, and a lock of his hair tickles my face.The breath freezes in my lungs, probably a self-preservation instinct so I don’t get caught sniffing him.
He straightens in his seat, handing me a hoodie and a blanket.“Here, these should help.”
I murmur a thank-you as I remove my soaked jacket and put the sweater on over my shirt.As I wrap the blanket around myself, I look down at the logo on the hoodie and do a double-take.“Wait, is this a Honeywell Handymen sweatshirt?You guys havebranded merch?”
One side of his mouth curves up.“We do.It was Thea’s idea.She came to work for us after she got out of rehab.”He casts me a sidelong glance.I wonder if the mention of Thea going to rehab sends his mind in the same direction as mine.The night he dropped her off at rehab last December was the same night he picked me up at the airport.The night we got snowed in together at the hotel.
“How’s she doing?”I ask quickly, not wanting to dwell on images from that night, especially while in the close, dark confines of Nathan’s truck, surrounded by his scent.“I’ve only seen her a few times since I’ve been back, and we haven’t had a chance for a proper chat.”
Nathan is quiet for several beats.“She feels bad about that,” he says finally.“I walked in on her crying in the office the other day, and she told me how she’s been feeling since Murph died.She’s taking it really hard.You know how shitty her and Liam’s upbringing was, but your parents were always there for her, and they love Rex like a grandson.She feels like she wasn’t around enough toward the end, and she’s struggling with the guilt of that.”
“I know a thing or two about guilt,” I murmur, tugging the sleeves of the hoodie over my hands.
Nathan makes a soft hum of acknowledgement.“I think we all do.”
I can’t imagine what Nathan would have to feel guilty about.Not in regard to my parents, anyway.He was invaluable to them during Dad’s illness, and has continued to be indispensable to Mum.
“Anyway,” he says, tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel before gripping it tightly.“She admitted to me that she’s been avoiding you and Mae without really meaning to.”
My heart aches thinking of Thea being wracked with guilt and grief.We’ve never been particularly close; she’s several years younger, and she rarely hung out with Liam, Nathan, and me growing up.Still, she’s family, and I love her.“That’s understandable.We’ve all experienced a devastating loss, and with Thea being so newly sober, I can’t imagine the extra layers of weight that must add.”
Nathan nods, shooting me another glance.“I told her you and Mae would understand.I feel bad for even bringing it up because it’s not my shit to tell, but I’m worried she’ll keep stewing in it instead of talking to you.”
“You think I should talk to her?”
“Not about this specifically,” Nathan says.“If you could find a way to hang out with her or…I don’t know, accidentally-on-purpose run into her?Come to the office someday with something from Sweet Escapes and strike up a conversation.Tell her I mentioned she was working there and you wanted to say hi or ask what it’s like working for her brothers.”
My heart squeezes at the easy way Nathan includes himself as one of Thea’s brothers.He may appear standoffish and cool, even sometimes coming across as a grump, but when he loves someone, it’s with his whole being.He folds them into his small inner circle and would do anything for them.For a moment, I allow myself to remember what it was like to be surrounded by that loving, protective energy.To be at the very centre of the beating heart of it.It was bright and beautiful and all-encompassing…and for the first time, I truly understand what Nathan must have felt when I left.He didn’t just lose a friend, a girlfriend, or a lover—he lost a piece of himself.
“I can do that,” I say finally.
He nods, seemingly satisfied.“Want to tell me what you’re doing out in the pouring rain at midnight?”
I consider making a joke, but decide to go with the truth.“You were right the other day when you said I must have itchy feet by now.I’m not planning to leave yet, but I’m feeling…restless.”
