by JP Sayle
When I’d thought about it later, I’d wondered if he’d not wanted to talk about it because he couldn't afford it. I seldom talked about how wealthy my grandparents were. It wasn’t something I was comfortable discussing because people tended to question my family’s choice of living in a commune when they were loaded.
As I didn’t dip into my trust fund that often and lived off my wages, I didn’t see that it was anyone else's business. The one time I had used it, was to buy the land and set aside the funds to build my own ECO home. I’d figured out pretty quickly that there was no way I’d ever be able to afford it on my wage. In fact, without my trust fund, I’d still be living in the commune, sharing a bathroom with thirty other people. Not that I’d minded. It was, after all, what I’d grown up with. It was just the lack of privacy that was a ball ache and I’d finally had enough of it and left.
I’d hated not being able to be myself without twenty sets of prying eyes watching my every move. My sigh was lost in the wind as I rounded the last bend and left the track to turn down the road leading to Boyd’s home. As the house came into view, my heart sank at the lack of car in the driveway. Maybe he’d parked it in the garage?
I gasped out a breath as I cycled up the driveway and stopped at the garage door. Hopping off my bike, I leant it against the wall and strolled up to the door a little breathless. As I rolled my shoulders, the backpack full of pre-prepared food I’d managed to coax out of Lenny, Carl’s new trainee chef, slid down my arms. Given my distinct lack of cooking skills, I’d wanted to slap myself upside the head when I’d offered to cook for Boyd.
In a panic, I’d all but begged Lenny to make me something, explaining my date with Boyd to him. As Lenny was dating Nathan and seriously loved up, he’d seemed only too happy to help me.
Was it wrong to pass off someone else’s food as your own?
By the time I got to the door, my hands were shaking. Instead of knocking, I shifted my weight and stood on my tiptoes to look through the glass window into the house. My brow furrowed at the absence of light, or any signs of life. Was I too early?
I shook my head at my own eagerness as I checked my watch. I had a habit of arriving early. It had been ingrained in me as a child and it was something that had stuck. I moved back a step and knocked hard, just in case Boyd was at the back of the house. I hopped from one foot to the other as the seconds ticked by and there was still no answer. Dropping my heavy pack to the ground, I rooted in my pocket for my phone. Had he messaged me to say what time he’d be home?
With no message, my guts twisted with anxiety.
Had he forgotten I was coming tonight?
You’re early. Give him a chance for fuck's sake.
Chewing my lip, I typed out a message and hit send. There was no harm in him knowing I was there a little early.
We’d exchanged phone numbers on our previous date, Boyd leaving me with a kiss to the forehead after dropping me home. I touched that same patch of skin and sighed.
All the time we’d been sending messages back and forth, I’d worked on not coming across as too clingy. Now, as I waited for a response, I huffed out a frustrated breath.
He’s probably driving so he can’t answer his phone. That’s all it is. You know full well what the traffic is like in London.
Feeling a little reassured as I calculated how far Nathan’s building was from Boyd’s home, I turned and eyed his garden in the evening twilight, looking for a distraction. He wouldn’t mind if I wandered around his garden, would he?
I hesitated, then shrugged as I stepped off the porch and went to have a nose around the grounds. As I’d not had time to explore that morning, I was curious to see what he liked. My feet faltered as I turned the corner to go around the side of the building, my eyes widening at the abundance of colour. The scents of herbs and plants I couldn’t identify wafted around me carried by the breeze. Inhaling, I stepped into what appeared to be a small oasis. There was a significantly sized water feature in the middle of the garden, which could never be described as a pond. It was more like a lake with a wooden bridge that allowed you to walk across it. Drawn by a desire to see if there were any fish in the water, I strolled over to the lake.
I lingered as the setting sun cast shadows over the water and for the first time in days, I felt the tension drain from my body. As the chilly breeze picked up and the sky darkened, I wandered around the garden trying to identify the plants and herbs.
There didn’t seem to be any order to the planting, but it still created a kind of flow and order that had probably taken an age to achieve. By the time I'd returned to the front of the house, it was dark enough for the security lights to have come on. I checked my watch again and my eyes widened at how long I’d spent enjoying the garden. Where the heck was Boyd? He should have been home by now.
He’s forgotten you.
My eyes burned as I tried to swallow past the ball of tears trying to choke me, but the thought persisted. He wouldn’t forget me! He likes me and was interested in getting to know me.
I argued back with my Little, the urge to stamp my foot hard to resist as the temper tantrum tried to take hold. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone to see if there was any message yet that would explain why I was still stood outside his home—alone.
See, he doesn’t want you. Why else would you be stood here like a fool on your own?
I sniffed at the lack of message, heat spreading up my neck as I attempted to keep a hold on the temper snapping inside me.
Ring him and tell him he’s a dick, go on.
With the cold seeping past my jacket and jeans and chilling me to the bone, I dialled Boyd’s number too upset to reason with myself.
The moment the call connected, I screeched tearfully into the phone. “What do you think you’re playing at? I’ve been waiting outside your bloody house freezing my backside off for forever. You know that’s an arsehole thing to do, right? You can stick your date where the sun doesn’t shine. A fine Daddy you’d make!”
Ending the call, I grabbed my pack and slung it on my back. All thoughts of how happy I’d been when Lenny had handed the food to me, withered and died. My stomach felt like I’d eaten a ball of lead and I struggled to swallow the bile rising up my throat.
I ran to my bike and slung my leg over the saddle as my phone started to ring. Ignoring it, I peddled down the drive and back out onto the road, heading for the track I’d cycled down only an hour and a half earlier. How had everything gone from being bright and sunny to dark and dismal in such a short time?
Boyd's a bastard, that’s why.
Why hadn't he just messaged me to say he didn’t want to meet? Tears slid unwillingly down my cheeks, turning icy as the cold wind hit them. Swiping at my face, I peddled as fast as I could, branches catching at the sleeves of my jacket and tugging at it. My chest tightened and I wheezed as I struggled to keep my balance and see past my tears, but I didn’t stop. The need to get home and hide overrode everything else. The ride home seemed to take forever as my misery dragged me down.
As my home came into sight, a sob escaped, and then another. There had been a small part of me that had hoped Boyd would somehow be there to magically make everything better. “Arsehole,” I muttered as I all but threw my bike to the ground after I got off it. Not bothering to lock it away, I rushed into my home. Too distressed to do more than throw my pack on the floor, I headed for my bed to grab the box from underneath it. I couldn’t think about anything other than the need for my blankie and dummy.
I hesitated at the sight of the new outfit I’d bought for myself that had arrived that morning. The playsuit was pale pink with bright blue bows on it and had an opening to allow for a nappy change. My mind in turmoil, I stripped out of my clothes and got dressed in my playsuit. By the time I was curled up on my bed with my blankie and my dummy clamped between my lips, an element of calm had returned, even though I was still hiccupping every now and then.
My eyes ached and I buried my face in the fleecy blank
et. Why had I thought Boyd was different?
Because he is, you don’t know what happened to make him late. You just overreacted like you always do.
How do you know that he’s different?
The two voices continued to bicker, neither giving an inch. I sniffed and lifted my hot face from the blanket and stared up at the wooden ceiling.
What am I going to do now?
Nothing.
I sighed and snuggled down in the bed, letting the warmth of the blanket cocoon me. Weary from crying, my eyes drifted shut.
Boyd
I avoided thinking about the reactions I'd seen displayed on Nathan, Phil and Brett’s faces, grateful that none of the men had said a word as I’d explained I needed to leave. They didn’t try to stop me, not that it would have made any difference with my hands still shaking after Sawyer hadn’t answered his phone when I'd tried to return his call.
I broke several speed limits, thinking about how upset Sawyer had sounded, and with all sorts of horrible images of him having an accident running through my head. The drive across London was dreadful as usual, giving me time to play what he'd said over and over again in my mind.
My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. Had I lost my chance with him? Was it over before we’d really had a chance to see where it could go between us?
Reaching my home, the security lights revealed an empty driveway with no sign of Sawyer. Not that I’d really expected him to be there, but I’d wanted to check first just in case. Cursing myself seven ways to Sunday for letting myself get so distracted, I drove the couple of miles to Sawyer’s home. Praying he’d let me explain what had happened, I parked at the end of his drive so that I didn't alert him to the fact that I was there.
My palms grew sweaty as I stared down the length of his drive and gave myself a pep talk. Leaving the car, I walked down the rocky path, noticing Sawyer’s bike lying on the ground. There was something not right about it. Sawyer, from what I could tell from our previous conversations, had a lot of respect for his possessions. Acting on gut instinct, I ran to his front door and tested the handle. When the door opened soundlessly, I stepped inside, unsure what had possessed me to walk right into his home without knocking.
The lights above the bed haloed Sawyer, who was snuggled in a sizeable, fleece blanket. My feet became rooted to the spot as my gaze was drawn to his mouth, a mouth that held an adult version of a child’s dummy. He looked so vulnerable, his face flushed and his dark lashes lying against his cheekbones as his mouth moved to suck on the dummy.
Had I done this? Had I made him need to seek comfort?
My ears buzzed and my heartbeat raced, forcing me to grip onto the doorframe. Was I ready for this? Was this really what I wanted?
His eyelashes fluttered open and his sleepy gaze met mine. Any doubts I might have had were buried under a wave of affection as his lips clamped around the dummy. He tensed and his hand came up, his gaze holding mine hostage as he removed it from his mouth.
“You’re letting in the cold,” he whined sleepily, his lips forming into a pout.
The knuckles of the hand clutching the dummy turned white as the sleepiness disappeared from his eyes. The air caught in my lungs as his posture turned defiant and his chin jutted out. My hands balled into fists as I tried to figure out what I should do, or say.
“I said, you’re letting in the cold. Either come in or leave but you’re letting all the heat out. I was trying to get warm after being left out in the cold for so long.” His voice, so different to normal, held a decidedly soft edge to it.
I sucked in a breath and took a step into the room. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.
With the door closed behind me, I stood there, uncertain of my next move. What I wanted to do was enfold him in my arms, but I wasn’t sure whether that would be welcomed.
“Are you just going to stand there?” he asked, his eyes imploring me to… to what?
Fuck it! Shoving aside my confusion, I went with my instincts. Once I'd reached the bed, I bent over slowly to make my intentions clear. When he stayed still, I wrapped his blanket around him and lifted him up. The scent of herbs, that I was starting to realise must be something he used on his skin, filled my senses as I tucked him into my chest. I turned around so that I could sit in the space Sawyer had been lying in.
Warmth invaded my chest as his arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. His breath tickled my skin as he snuffled and got himself settled. The stress from the drive to get here melted away as I sat with my arms full of the warm bundle. A warm bundle that didn’t seem to want to talk, his face staying buried in my neck.
I tried not to dwell on how out of character this behaviour was for me. Was it because it was Sawyer that I felt like this? I couldn’t pinpoint it, not when he made me feel all kinds of… of what?
God knows. But whatever I was feeling, it was playing havoc with my emotions. They seemed intensified as his small hand lifted to play with my beard and his quiet sighs had me holding my tongue to stop myself from spoiling the moment.
I prayed that I was giving him what he needed, what we both needed as I appreciated the gentle touches. I slid my hand up his back, gently rubbing it as the silence lengthened without being strained.
His head rose sometime later, his lips forming into a smile that seemed to light up his whole face. The air seemed to leave the room as I stared back at him. “You’re so beautiful, Angel.” As I spoke, his head tilted to one side, the hand behind my neck moving to the dummy he’d been holding to pop it back between his lips.
My brows drew together as my stomach dropped. Had I said something wrong?
Explain why you were late, you idiot. Maybe that will help.
Heeding the voice of reason, I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about tonight. I should have messaged you—”
The dummy was spat out. “You didn’t message me. I checked,” he cried, his lips trembling.
“I know, Angel, I know. I’m sorry. I forgot because something happened at work and distracted me. I swear I was going to tell you that I'd had to cancel, but Brett came to me with a problem that escalated into something more, and then things turned to shit pretty quickly after that.” I tried to keep control of my impatience as I explained what had happened. “I’m sorry, Angel, I really am. I was going to postpone. I’d never leave you stood outside like that.” As I finished talking, I thought about the key I never used for my back door. Was it too soon to give Sawyer a key?
Yes, no, maybe?
My gut told me to ignore the latter two so before I could give myself a chance to talk myself out of it, I offered something that it had taken Glenn a year to get from me. “I have a spare key to my back door if you want it? I can give it to you so you’ll never be stuck outside again.”
His brows disappeared under his fringe as his eyes widened. “You want to give me a key to your place?”
An ache spread through my chest at the tentativeness in his voice. Had I fucked up so badly that he doubted my sincerity?
“Yes, Angel. I want to give you a key. That way the next time you come over, you can let yourself in and make yourself at home.” I made sure to stress the next time, needing to be clear that I wanted there to be one. His face turned thoughtful.
My gaze swept the tiny room, taking in the threadbare, lumpy sofa, the rickety table and chairs and the small, cramped bed I was sat on. “I’m sure you’ll find it more comfortable in my home.”
His expression turned mournful as he followed my gaze. “This place was only supposed to be temporary, but the builders in London are crap.” His gaze flew to mine and he babbled, “Present company excluded, I’m sure.”
At his contrite tone, I kept the smile off my face with difficulty. “Is that right?” I brought my face to within inches of his until his warm breath touched mine. “Did you ring the company I recommended and get a quote for your building works?”
His brows pinched but he nodded.
>
When he’d come to my home the other night and assumed that I’d employed someone else to do the work, I’d been amused. Tickled by the idea that he had no idea what I was capable of, I’d given him my business card. I was going to surprise him when he rang up for a quote. The last few days had been so busy that I hadn’t spoken to my office manager, Gloria, to find out if there’d been any new enquiries.
“I spoke to a lady and she said she’d get someone to contact me to sort out a suitable time for a walkthrough in order to get a quote.”
His body quivered on my lap as he answered, and I couldn’t help but respond to it. “I’m sure they’ll give you a good deal.”
The sound of his stomach gurgling stopped me from saying more as I eyed his fleece covered belly. “Did you not have anything to eat?”
A shadow crept into his eyes and dulled the happiness they’d held a moment ago. He stared at the bag on the floor that I’d not noticed. My stomach dropped as I realised it probably had the stuff inside it for the meal he’d wanted to make for me.
“Is the food in that bag?” I asked, indicating towards it with my head as he looked back at me.
“Yeah.”
That one word sounded like it held the weight of the world in it, so I gave him a big smile before carefully shifting him off my lap. “Then let’s see what we've got so I can feed you before your tummy decides to tell me off again,” I joked, trying to bring a smile back to his face.
He giggled and clutched at the blanket as I stood and strode over to the bag. The scent of herbs and spices tickled my nose as I opened it, causing my own stomach to remind me I hadn’t eaten either. Pulling the tubs out, I eyed the full table and the one empty chair.
“It’s alright, I’ll do it. I’m used to working with my cranky cooker.”
