Page 58 of You, As You Are

IAIN

“I feellike that went well … ‘Project: Fake Date’ I mean,” Maisie said as they wandered down the hill of Ms Vera’s road.

Iain rolled his eyes forwards to the uneven paving slabs barely illuminated by the sporadic streetlamps. “Of course you named it.”

“It needed a name. ‘Project: Get All The Elders Off Of Our Backs’ is too long.”

The words might’ve been jovial, but Maisie’s voice sounded forced into it. She hugged an envelope to her body which must’ve been what Vera had wanted to show her. And even though she smiled and made her little jokes, Iain knew it’d been a tear she wiped away when she’d met him at the foot of the stairs.

He couldn’t understand it or put shape to the feeling, but he needed to know what had upset her.

He walked with enough space between them to not feel too invasive as he asked, “Would you like to tell me why you cried?”

Maisie’s eyes shot across to him, wide at first, then settling with the acceptance that he’d noticed her tear. “Vera found this.” She held out the envelope in offering and explained whilst Iain opened it, taking care for his rough hands not to rip anything.“Mytaidpainted it for me, and I’ve never seen it before. It’s at least fifteen years old.”

“Twenty,” he said.

“Twenty?” Her curls whipped off her shoulders.

Iain lifted the postcard, though there wasn’t much in the way of streetlight to see. “There’s a date on the reverse.”

“Oh. I didn’t see it.”

He didn’t know anything about art. Unsurprisingly,culturewasn’t very important on the list of things he was taught growing up. But hertaid’spainting of what was clearly the pier here was nice. Simple. Clearly meaningful if it’d stirred emotion in her.

“So he was an artist like you?” he presumed.

Maisie folded herself within her coat. “Sort of. I don’t remember him painting much.Nainalways says that my brothers all have different parts of our family in them, but I’ve never known who I took after. Maybe it’s him.”

The longing in her voice to feel connected that way un-shrivelled something within Iain. He hadn’t had that growing up. All he’d inherited from his family was his temper and size to match it, but he wasn’t so bitter to not be glad when other people had what he didn’t.

“I’d say so.” He gave back the painting in its envelope. “You have brothers?”

“Three.” Maisie’s voice changed to the vibrant tone he liked so much, even at the rate at which she talked. “I think you’d like them. You could form your own starting line in a rugby team. What about you?”

Iain’s stomach soured as quickly as Maisie’s features had brightened.Thishe didn’t talk about. To talk about his family meant letting someone inside, and he didn’t want Maisie to see the train wreck that was in there. She didn’t know the nerves that she prodded; that wasn’t her fault; the open ends firing off warnings to retreat.

Feeling it was only fair to tell the truth, he took a moment to answer.

“Two brothers,” he said, feeling a weight in his chest tugging down. “We aren’t close.”

“Oh … I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me why. I don’t need to know.”

Maisie didn’t ask him anything more along that line while they walked another few minutes into town, following the silent streets. The route to her flat was easy, a couple of turns and one straight stretch of deserted road through the middle of Aber. It was a different kind of walk to what they were used to. He wasn’t in a rush to reach an end or climb up a hill, he simply strolled with a woman through the streets to the distant sound of the ocean lapping in the bay.

“Isn’t this going the wrong way for you?” Maisie asked before they crossed the road onto hers.

It is.“It doesn’t matter.”

“Iain.”

God, he liked it when she said his name with purpose like that. He liked it when she grew fiery with him, full stop. “It’s dark,” he said. “I’d rather walk you home.”

Maisie flicked her palm to the air. “This town isn’t exactly a hub for criminal activity.”

Iain turned his head and hoped that his stare burned enough into her eyes that she’d never question his intention again when he firmly stated, “I don’t care.”

Something had clicked within him. Something that couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt again, especially if something were to happen in the dark. Maisie was right, nothing would happen to her between here and her front door, but Iain would walk her home. End of story.

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