Page 60 of Only Ever You

“Yes,” he said, and left it at that.

The girls trotted on towards the toys and Bash followed with a white-knuckled grip on the trolley.

“Are you okay?” Faye dared to ask quietly, forgetting to unclasp her fingers from his coat.

“Fine. It’s just … that’s happened before, even to Matt. People see the different colours of our skin and make assumptions. I took the girls to a farm park once, and a security guard thought I’d stolen them on our way out. Maya was still tiny.” He lowered his voice out of reach of the girls’ ears. “It pisses me off.”

Faye wanted to touch him more than she held herself back from– to curl her hand around his arm and feel the tension ease off of him.

“Anyone who thinks those things, that’s their problem, not yours,” she promised. “Please don’t work yourself up over it.”

Bash hung his head low, exhaling, “It’s hard not to.”

“Uncle Bash, can we get this please?” Imara’s bright persuasively grinning face snapped Faye out from under Bash’s dark cloud.

“It’s Christmas in two days. You’ll be getting presents soon.” He pulled up a smile as if nothing had bothered him at all. “How do you know that toy isn’t one of them?”

The girl’s mouth twisted for a long moment as she examined the toy, before putting it back on the shelf.

“Is it?” Faye asked quietly.

Bash lowered his voice as well. “No idea. I’ll drive back and get it after they’ve gone to bed.”

“Or I can distract them for long enough so that you can dash to hide it in the car now?”

Excitement gleamed in Bash’s eyes at the challenge. “Game on.”

19

BASH

Armedwith thermos mugs of hot drinks, they gathered at the next village over, lining with other villagers along the paths. It was only late afternoon, and yet the sky already darkened with a bruised sheet of cloud. The nearest village was little more than a mile away, and every now and then the siren of a fire engine reached them here as they waited.

In typical British winter style, the chill and the wind bit at Bash’ cheeks. He pulled his scarf further up over his chin and dipped his head to keep his face warm.

Beside him, Faye chatted to Saira. Pretending to not be intrigued by what they’d talked about in their little chat on the walk this morning was damn hard, because whatever it’d been had made Faye’s cheeks blush in a way thathadn’tbeen due to the cold. When he’d scooped her up to stop her fall, she’d reddened just the same.

If she thought he didn’t ever notice that cute colour in her cheeks sometimes when she was around him, then she was wrong.Very wrong. Bash just didn’t know what to do about it, figuring she was just embarrassed – god knows he fumbled over himself enough to make her feel that way.

If Faye was affected by him like he’d always secretly hoped she was, then why wouldn’t she say anything?

Huh.Hypocrite.When haveyouever said anything?

Every five seconds or so, Imara asked Matt for the time. She’d stood and studied the banner advertising “Santa’s route” and when he would stop by various villages. Theirs was fairly early on in the parade, so here they were.Cold.It was cute how Matt indulged her by checking his phone and then Imara pouted, standing arrow straight for five … four … three … two …

“What time is it now?”

Bash chuckled to himself at how his brother – who’d only brought this upon himself – looked ready to rip hairs out from his attempt at growing a beard; he’d seenpeacheswith more hair on their cheeks.

Bash didn’t count his chickens too early before they’d hatched, though. Thankful that at thirty he still had all his hair, even if ithadsprouted greys above his ears, and the follicular function to grow a beard whenever he liked.

He scratched at the growth of that beard he’d not shaved for a couple of days and looked at the young families lining the narrow street; parents around his age with babies bundled in snowsuits, toddlers stumbling around as they found their feet in wellies. Rocks tethered his heart down at the joy on all of their faces.

It felt like he was at the starting line, his feet in the blocks, breath held as he waited for the gun to go off. He could see the finish line right ahead of him that he’d been moving through life to get towards. Only, there was no person on the sidelines holding the gun, and so he was left there, crouched indefinitely.

“Sebby, tu as l’air d’avoir froid.?*”

Bash startled when his mother put the back of her hand to his cheek. “Non, ça va.?*”

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