Page 67 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Oliver was watching him expectantly, but Jesse was speechless.

In an instant, Oliver was at his side, his shoulder pressed tightly against Jesse’s as they hovered over the sketch pad together. “I’m still working to get the shading right, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. And you were right, it was better practice drawing someone live than from the internet.”

Jesse had stopped looking at the drawing and instead was looking at Oliver’s face, willing the words that he wanted to say to leave his mouth. They tangled together behind his teeth, crowded and shoving at each other to be the first to escape. I love you. Love. Love. Love.

When Jesse did finally speak that wasn’t what came out. Instead, those three words retreated back inside his chest. “What will you have to remember me by?”

Jesse watched Oliver cock his head to the side. He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair away from Jesse’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “Do you think I’d ever forget you?”

Jesse knew the answer. He knew because he’d carry this summer with him for the rest of his life. When he eventually left England, there would be a permanent indent in his heart created by Oliver Catesby.

“No, cariño, I don’t.”

The sun was now nearly set, and it was time for them to go. Oliver pressed his lips quickly against Jesse’s before he stood, stretching out his legs and extending his hand out to Jesse to help him off the ground.

Jesse took it and didn’t let go, tethering himself to Oliver and to this moment. “You know, tomorrow I’m going to get us to the muses,” Jesse said. “I think I’ve finally figured it out.”

Oliver laughed and lifted their entwined hands, kissing the back of Jesse’s. “I think we’ll end up right back here.”

Chapter 27

Oliver

Present

Oliver forced himself to unfurl his fist. The envelope could only take so much more abuse until it finally disintegrated.

He’d been manhandling the letter for over two years now, and lately it was almost like a nervous habit. Or maybe he was holding onto it like a child with a safety blanket; he wasn’t sure. Every time he found himself in the study, that unopened envelope had somehow made its way into his hand.

When he had woken up a few days prior and saw Jesse’s bedroom door open, the bed unslept in, Oliver had panicked. The next day he stumbled downstairs and Rose had told him that Jesse called and said he was staying at the small bed and breakfast in the village. She collected some of his things. Not everything, but an assortment of clothes and other items, and packed them up to take to him.

They had never put an actual label on their relationship, and Oliver was sure after their fight that they were finished—that he’d gone and destroyed the best thing in his life.

He recalled Jesse's words about the other estates like his own. Of course he knew that many families had decided to donate to the National Trust instead of letting their homes crumble. He had just seen it as a white flag of surrender.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he had been holding on too tightly. Maybe it was time for a change before he had to make that decision like many before him.

The letter was crushed again between his fingers, and Oliver shoved it in his pocket. Doubt clouded each and every one of his thoughts about the future of the estate. A final report had been emailed to him from Simon Emerson—a reviewed and corroborated analysis of Oliver’s assets. And Jesse had been right: there was nothing he could sell that could guarantee long-term stability.

Shortly after receiving that report, he got another message, this time from Charlotte. She had emailed him a copy of the slide deck Jesse had shown him, the subject line of which only had three words: Don’t Be Stupid.

He had spent hours looking it over. Actually reading their plan, carefully considering each proposal with a calm and clear head. It was well researched, carefully thought out, and between Charlotte’s professional analysis, there were notes and comments from Jesse. Things like, A wedding would be beautiful here. We could open the ballroom doors out to the gardens, and I had a conversation with John, the farmer down the lane, and he could use some additional acreage to expand his crop.

Every statement was emphasized with we and us. Jesse wanted to be a part of the next chapter of his life, and Oliver could feel how much he was loved on each page.

He left his spot behind the desk, and for the second time that morning, he watched as Jesse ran past the window of the study from the second floor. He was still angry, less so than he was at the start, but still upset at Jesse for his deception. It conflicted with the immeasurable feeling of relief he got each time he saw Jesse on the grounds of the estate.

Despite their argument, he was still showing up to run. He still wanted to be close by. And that meant everything to Oliver.

He left the study and headed downstairs to the conservatory. He told himself that painting might help clear his head, but really he was hoping to watch Jesse run by on the ground level. Any chance to see him up close without actually speaking to him, he’d take.

He knew they needed to talk, but he wasn’t ready. He wanted to hold onto the anger just a little longer. Even if it was petty, even if he was reconsidering everything, even if he loved him, it didn’t absolve Jesse of what he had done.

The day was overcast, rain threatening yet again, the light dim through the large windows of the conservatory. Oliver walked over to his canvas and sat on the stool at its front. He didn’t reach for his paints, only stared at the painting instead. The lush greens of his garden scene mocked him. They were created in a happier time, and they didn’t belong to this version of Oliver. They didn’t deserve to be tainted by melancholy additions.

Looking up from the painting to the windows, he noticed that the exterior of the glass had been cleaned for the first time in years. He got up from his stool and walked across the room, studying the garden further. The weeds had been pulled, the grass around had been mowed. Everything outside was tidier than it had been the last time he was there.