Page 26 of The Last Kiss

Harry stilled. “Pete’s dead? John’s brother?”

“Aye, at the Somme.”

“Bloody hell. I didn’t know.” Harry rubbed a weary hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t have said — Bollocks. The boy’s grieving a father and a brother, then. Not surprised he’s a little shit.”

“Bert died a long time ago, but the lad looked up to Pete, right enough. Though maybe he shouldn’t have.” Boyd’s gaze dipped to the floor and after a hesitation he said, “Be careful of John, Harry. The Pierson’s have a vindictive streak a mile wide, the whole bloody lot of ’em.”

“Careful?” He tried for a laugh, but it came out flat. “I think I could hold my own if it came to a fight.”

“Aye, so you could, but he won’t fight fair. He’ll go for your weak spot, lad, if you show it. That’s what he’s been taught.”

And Christ knew Ash was his weak spot. Ash and what Harry felt for him — maybe, what they felt for each other. He gave a stiff nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

But he couldn’t help thinking it was too late; he’d already shown his hand and John Pierson had seen it clear as day.

***

The mist lifted by noon, resolving into a sporadic drizzle. Nevertheless, the horses had to be exercised and Harry wasn’t letting Boyd do it in all this damp, not with his arthritis.

After arguing the point, he grabbed a lunge line and took Bella down to the paddock, squelching his way through the mud. He walked her for a few minutes, paying out the line, then had her trot and eventually canter. She was kicking up clots of mud and he could feel his socks getting wet as water seeped into his boots. He tried not to let it remind him of anything else, chose to keep his thoughts in the present. It wasn’t like he could avoid mud and rain for the rest of his life and he’d rather not be put in mind of anything he’d sooner forget every time the heavens opened.

As he was slowing Bella to a walk, he sensed a presence behind him. Turning with the horse, he saw Ash leaning on the fence, watching. He lifted a hand to wave and Harry’s chest somehow contracted and expanded all at once. Despite a lurking sense of danger, he couldn’t help smiling and, after a couple more circuits, decided Bella had had enough exercise, called her to a halt and unhitched the lunge line. “Good girl,” he said, stroking her neck, then let her nose at the grass while he squelched across the paddock toward Ash.

He looked pale today, even his lips were colourless, making his dark eyes and hair stark by comparison. But he smiled when Harry approached, the drizzle clinging like tiny jewels to his tweed jacket and the tips of his lashes. He looked… He looked lovely, and that wasn’t something Harry had thought before, not in so many words. Their friendship at the front had been intense, but it had been about comfort and companionship and the scraping out of joy from the very worst of circumstances. Here, with the pressure of war gone, those same powerful feelings were overflowing into new channels, like a river bursting its banks.

“You’re good at that.” Ash nodded toward Bella. “She was listening to every word.”

“Aye, well, she’s a good girl. Stick around and you’ll see something different with Sable — she likes to buck and jump all over the shop.” Ash gave a drawn smile and Harry took a breath, plunging in. “Heard you had a bad night.”

Ash stiffened, his fingers clenching on the fence until his knuckles went white. “W-what?”

“John said he’d heard something about it. Gave him what for, mind you, for gossiping, but still…” More gently, he said, “You alright? You look peaky.”

Ash turned his head away, jaw tense. “Feel like such a fool, after all this t-t-time. I should b-be over it.”

“All this time? War’s only been over five months.”

“M-mine’s been over longer.”

“Has it?” One eye open for anyone watching, he covered Ash’s hand where he was gripping the fence. His fingers felt cold and damp from the rain. “I ain’t sure yours is over at all. God knows, you’re living with the consequences every day.”

“And I’m hardly alone in that.” He turned back with a brittle smile. “C-can we talk about something else?”

Subdued, Harry took his hand away. “Alright.” An awkward pause followed, punctuated only by the occasional snuffle and nicker from Bella as Harry racked his brain for something else to say. Then inspiration struck. “You want to try lunging Sable? She might respond to your commands better than mine.”

“Oh, I’m n-not sure I could — ” Ash glanced down at his leg, paused a moment, then looked up with a determined set to his jaw. “You know what? To hell with it, why not t-try?”

It took half an hour to get Bella back to the stables and to fetch Sable, leaving Boyd to rub Bella down while they headed back out to the paddock. At least the sky had brightened, although Harry wasn’t sure the watery light flashing through the clouds and lancing up from the puddles to blind him was any better. Somehow, the harsh spring sunshine felt bleaker than winter. But he did his best to ignore it, concentrating instead on getting Ash settled with the lunging line and whip in the correct hands.

“Tell her to walk,” Harry said, stepping behind Ash so as not to get in his way, “and use the whip behind her to make a space, like a section of pie, so she knows to move forward. No need to touch her, just hold the space. And keep yourself behind her as you turn — that’s right — let her know you want her to keep moving.”

Ash did as he was told, payed the line out slowly so Sable walked in wider and wider circles. She snorted and tossed her head, but otherwise behaved herself, even when Ash brought her to a trot. Harry divided his attention between the horse and her master, thrilled at the sight of Ash’s smile, the way he bit at his lower lip in concentration, the flush of satisfaction driving the pallor from his cheeks. He looked good like this: purposeful, calm and in control. Not haunted and angry. Harry found himself smiling.

And then Ash stumbled, his bad leg sliding in the mud. Harry grabbed him, hauling him up so hard they staggered into each other, forcing Harry to throw his arms around Ash to keep them both on their feet. And then they were just standing there, breathing into the warm space between them. Harry was intensely aware of his hands resting on Ash’s lean back, of the rise and fall of his breathing. “Alright?”

Ash nodded, looking up with such an expression it fixed Harry to the spot. He couldn’t move, lost in those soulful brown eyes. Ash’s lips parted — pinker now than before — and Harry swallowed hard, rocked by a fierce flush of arousal tingling across his skin.

Then Sable was pulling on the line, forcing Ash to turn with her, to pull away from Harry, and the moment was lost. But there was no hiding from what it meant, no evasion. What he’d long felt for Ash — for the captain — had emerged like a butterfly from its mud-caked chrysalis, transformed into something beautiful and fragile and exposing. It had always been love, he’d always called it love, but now he knew it was more. Now, in that moment, he knew that he wasin loveand helpless to stop. He was lost, entirely lost, and it was terrifying and wonderful and completely impossible.

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