Page 40 of Second Story

Of course, the car is his only reason. I must pause for so long that he rephrases, and I wouldn’t say that his wasp buzz gentles but there is less sting to this. “I’ve been called in to consult on a case upcountry. Could stretch over a few days. Maybe all week. Don’t want to?—”

“Take the train?”

“It isn’t that. I…” I hear him swallow. “I don’t want to leave Meera on her own for that long.” He’s back to grumpy, but I know this gruffness.

Know it?

I hear an echo of myself ordering Isaac to let the school below this window take care of him. Now my brother virtually admits that what he needs most is for someone special to be cared for in his absence. “Thought you could look in on her after work every evening. You don’t have to paint the nursery. I’ll ask Dad to help me with it.”

Being excluded from that painting party stings. I try to brush it off, like usual—need to, if I’m gonna keep our line of communication open.

Tonight, doing that is hard. Maybe it’s the contrast with Isaac making me feel wanted, and not only by getting me off in a hot and sweaty hurry. I’ve had plenty of dark encounters, but I can also count on one hand how many of those came with an invitation to meet again in daylight.

“You still there?”

“Yeah.” I am. I’m also tempted to find a reason to stay for even longer and let Josh get the train like I have so often rather than demand fifty-fifty access to the vehicle we own jointly. My brother sucks that wind from my sails with a four-word sentence.

“Meera had a fall.” He quickly adds, “She’s okay. Baby boy is okay too.”

Josh isn’t. My super-computer brother isn’t programmed for emotion. Tonight, I hear plenty. “Can’t lie, getting that call scared me shitless all over again.”

“Again?”

He brushes that off without an answer, back to his usual bulldozer. “I tried to postpone consulting on this case. No dice.” He huffs out a long breath. “I’d feel better if she had company.And if I had the car to get back quickly if I needed to. She asked me to call you.”

Meera wanting me around gets to me. “Tell her I’ll come, no worries.”

“Tomorrow, yeah? By lunchtime.”

“Won’t be that early.” I’ve got a time capsule lunch date I’m not breaking for anybody. “I should be back by evening.”

“Yeah?” I hear actual relief then, and I get to see more of that the next morning.

First, Charles shows me plenty when I help wrangle his temporary twins through their breakfast. Then from Hugo, when I return last night’s favour by talking through strategies that have worked for me with challenging students.

Finally, I see relief from Isaac, who spots me arriving at the celebration before his brother notices that he won’t have to be the only kid here without friends or family.

There are plenty of those guests here for other students. Parents have gathered to witness their kids bury the past and move on. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles have happy reunions with boarding students while family friends take photos.

Only Isaac stands alone with his brother, his hands on Lenny’s narrow shoulders, and I know that isolated feeling all too well.

It’s another golden Cornish moment. Another crystal clear day. There’s no missing what else I notice as soon as Isaac sees me.

Regret.

Because he’s changed his mind about me, I guess. His head tilt towards the library window says so, telling me to wait where Lenny can’t see me.

That’s where I wait for him to let me down gently. I don’t know why I’m gutted. It’s only what I more than half expected. Of course he wants me to keep my distance.

Only that isn’t what Isaac tells me when he joins me in the library.

He lets himself in, then gets in my space, and from this close, I see desperation.

“Len hasn’t spoken once since people started arriving. All those families…” He shakes his head, a hand shoved through his hair, and fuck it, I untangle him and thread us together. Our fingers, I mean, which could be too much, or too soon for this kind of closeness outside of a one-off hookup. It doesn’t feel so to me, but I’ve had a year with an Isaac-shaped puzzle piece missing from my life, and him finding my other hand suggests he likes how we slot together. There’s no way I’d fight off him weaving us even closer like this, especially when it comes with him sharing what has added to Lenny’s upset.

“Mum usually video calls every week. Since she got moved, that hasn’t happened. Our visits have been fucked up too. He hasn’t seen her for ages, and this morning… Seeing all the parents here… It’s the first time he’s cried about it.” His jaw clenches, then releases along with a flow of honesty that guts me for a whole new reason. “I finally managed to request a visit in a few weeks’ time. Still waiting to hear, but Mum emailed, saying she wasn’t sure if I should bring Len with me.”

“Did she say why?”

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