Page 86 of Fireworks
“Surprisingly, Fireman Sam said something that made me realise I need to lay off on the protective big brother stuff.”
Yep, definitely an alternative universe. It only occurred to her now that they must have been in here at the same time, for the same purpose: to help her. And yet there were no fist-shaped dents in the plaster.
What on earth had happened here?
She scratched her head, mussing her loose ponytail. “I’m confused and also disturbed.”
“Aye, as was I when I realised he’s actually not the worst bloke in the world,” Fraser retorted. “He told me that you’re smart and strong enough to handle your own problems, and he was right. I’m sorry for being too much, okay? Knowing that you didn’t think you could tell me about Finlay really fucking hurt. I don’t want you to feel that you can’t talk to me anymore. I’m going to be better. I promise.”
“Fraser …” With a long breath, she dragged him over to the couch to get comfortable. She took the cushion onto her lap, fiddling with the yarn stitches.
You don’t know how lucky you are to have a family that cares about you. That wants to protect you. Some of us don’t.
Warren had been right. She was smart and strong enough to handle her own problems, but she didn’t need to do it alone. That was a choice she’d made, because she felt as though she had something to prove and maybe she didn’t deserve all of the effort her loved ones poured into helping her.
It wasn’t true. She could be the worst person in the world, and she knew her brother would still fight her corner. It waswho he was, and a testament to how fiercely he loved his family. Maybe he needed to work on his boundaries, still, but she needed to work on accepting support.
“I’m sorry for all the worry I’ve caused you,” Eiley said. “And I’m sorry for forgetting how lucky I am to have you taking care of us all. I’ve just felt so useless since Finlay left us, like there’s not enough pieces of me to be a whole person. And every time someone tried to help me, it was like they saw it, too.”
“Just because we see you hurting, it doesn’t mean we think you’re weak.” Fraser took her hand. “I’ve always wished I could take your suffering away. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to have lived with depression this long, and then to deal with the rest on top of it … I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t.”
“It’s not easy.” She tried, and failed, to keep her sob at bay. God, he was right. She’d spent her whole life trying, trying, trying, stuffing everything down because she had to hold herself together for the family, or the kids, or herself. Meanwhile, her brain had wanted to fight her at every turn, convincing her that everything she did was either wrong or doomed to fail, whether it was the bookshop, or the flat …
Or Warren. Was she really protecting herself from more heartache, or was she living her life in survival mode? The only time she could step out of her struggles was when she was with him. He’d only wanted to make her feel good and safe.
“I think maybe I’ve made a mistake,” she admitted, and she couldn’t hold all of that pain in any longer. As she began to cry, Fraser pulled her close, holding her while she fell apart. Everything Eiley had faced poured out of her in torrents, her sobs echoing through the bookstore.
38
“So that’s it?” asked Nate in disbelief. “After all that fuss, all that infatuation with each other, it’s just over?”
Warren hadn’t meant to talk about Eiley but, naturally, Nate had questions after last weekend, especially after Warren took a couple of personal days. Nate had found him in the tavern, drowning his sorrows, five whiskies in and ready for a sixth.
Getting it off his chest had helped, in the end. Nate was a top lad; he didn’t make fun of Warren for acting like a lovesick puppy (much), instead listening to him with concern and understanding. It might have been the healthiest friendship Warren had ever experienced, and hoped it would be a new constant. Having somebody to lean on was uncomfortably novel, but he was grateful for every bit of it and only hoped he’d have the opportunity to return the kindness if Nate ever needed a shoulder to cry on.
“She doesn’t want me,” Warren replied, glumly watching the ice cubes slide around the bottom of his glass. “I don’t think she wants anyone just now, but especially not me.”
“I find that hard to believe, mate. She was ready to walk into fire for you.”
“Aye, well maybe that’s the problem. She can be so …” Warren clenched his fingers before deciding on: “Frustrating. She’ll fight me at every turn just because she’s too stubborn to hear me out.”
“Like someone else I know,” Nate muttered into his beer.
Warren flashed him a look, and Nate shrugged unapologetically.
“Look, I don’t know a lot about love and all that stuff, so I don’t have many words of advice.”
“There’s no advice to give. There’s nothing else I can do.” Warren waved Graeme down for another drink: a bad idea, considering his barstool was already wobbling unsteadily beneath him, but what good was being sensible? Apparently, it was a terrible quality to have. Made him suffocating and impossible to love.
Nate pushed his pint glass forward and Warren clinked in cheers before realising he’d meant it for Graeme. Okay, maybe hewasa bit drunk.
As the bartender refilled their drinks, a waft of fruity perfume brushed against Warren. He turned to find a familiar blonde leaning on the bar beside him.
“Hi, Graeme. I’m here to pick up the champagne?” Harper asked. Then, she looked at Warren and whistled through her teeth. “Wow. You’re a sight for sore eyes. You all right?”
“Dandy.” God, he hoped she didn’t tell Eiley about this. “Champagne, eh? What’s the occasion?”
Her brown eyes swirled with sympathy, the last thing he wanted. “A book signing and an engagement. I’ve been trying to hunt you down all week to invite you, but you disappearedon us. I’d ask now, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to show up like …” – she looked him up and down with a grimace – “that. You smell like you’ve been bathing in the stuff.”
