Page 87 of Animal Instincts
Joss let the chatter wash over him as he scrolled through his phone, getting lost in the mindless maze that was social media.
“There’s been a slight change to the line up.” Ryan’s voice reached Joss, but he didn’t bother looking up. “We’ve got a last minute addition—”
“What the fuck—?”
“This is unexpected. Or perhaps not. Joss?”
“Sorry, what?” Joss looked up from his phone, his gaze flicking from Declan to Charles and back to Declan. Why were they staring at him…?
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry for this unscheduled addition, but there’s something I have to say. To somebody important. More than important.”
Joss froze. All the noise and chatter in the marquee faded to no more than the faintest murmur. Slowly, slowly, Joss turned his head.
In the centre of the stage, Oliver perched on a tall bar stool in front a free-standing microphone. A guitar rested on his leg. The last of the murmurs faded to nothing, and the crowd melted away, becoming indistinct, blurry and insubstantial, until they too ceased to be, leaving only him and Oliver.
Oliver, who looked so damn tired. Dark shadows stained the skin beneath his eyes. His hair was messy, with none of its usual crisp smoothness. He looked unsure and awkward and so sad Joss’ heart reached out for him. A warm hand squeezed his own, but whether it was Declan, or Charles, or anybody else, Joss neither knew nor cared, because all that mattered was the man with sad and tired eyes who gazed at him from the stage.
“I screwed up, Joss. It’s both as simple and as complicated as that.”
Joss couldn’t move, he could hardly breathe. The wind had dropped and the rain had eased. It was as though the whole of Love’s Harbour, the whole world, held its breath and waited.
“I made a mistake. A huge and terrible mistake. I listened to the warped words of others when the only words I should have listened to were yours. I should have shown faith in you, but I didn’t, and I’ll never forgive myself for pushing you away when all I really wanted was to pull you into my arms, hold you tight and never let you go. A friend of mine called you a keeper. He was right, but I was too stupid to see it. And I do want to keep you Joss, I want to keep you here with me not only in Love’s Harbour, but here, too. Here, where it matters most of all.”
Oliver pressed a fist to his heart.
The hand clamped to Joss’ tightened.
“I don’t know if I’m too late. I pray to god I’m not. I never, ever thought I would find a man like you. From the moment you walked into my life — or maybe I should say when you threw cake all over me,” Oliver said, as a small and hesitant smile drifted over his lip, “I knew you were something special. You once called yourself clumsy.You were never that, not with my heart. You only took care with it, protected and treasured it when nobody before had done so. Nobody. So this song is for you, Joss.”
The first notes from the guitar twisted and turned in Joss’ heart as Oliver sang about a broken, damaged bird, a bird who yearned to heal and fly once more.
The song Oliver had sung to him in the garden, warmed by the mellow evening sun.
Tears overflowed Joss’ eyes, the tears he’d promised never, ever to shed again. He didn’t care, because all he cared about was the man who sang to him with a low soulful voice and whose deep grey eyes never left his own. The song ended, the final strains of the guitar floated in the air before they too faded. No wind, no rain, no low murmur of voices. Nothing, except for the frantic beat of his heart.
“I love you, Joss. I love you so much. Will you stay? Will you stay with me, here, in Love’s Harbour? Will you let me mend what I broke? Will you let me prove to you how much you mean to me? You complete me. You’re the piece I never knew was missing. You’re the sun during the day, and the moon at night. You’re every star that ever shone, every grain of sand on the beach, and every breath I take. You’re everything, Joss, everything—everything I was—was fool enough to throw away.”
Oliver’s voice caught, and stumbled to a stop. Frozen, all Joss could do was stare. Oliver looked down, and slipped from the stool. With his head bowed, Oliver stepped towards the small set of steps that would take him out of the spotlight, off the stage, out of sight, and out of Joss’ life.
No. No way.
Joss jumped up, breaking through his paralysis.
“Oliver! Don’t you walk away from me. Don’t you bloody dare!”
Joss’ voice ripped through the silence, opening the floodgates for the torrent of cheers and clapping, the pounding of feet on the floor and fists on the tables. It was deafening, it was thunderous, it was propelling him forward. Joss shoved through the crowd, as the crowd pulled him forward and pushed him onto the stage.
Joss stood before Oliver, his breathing fast and erratic.
“I can help you learn to fly again, Oliver, but only if you let me.”
Joss held out his hand, his heart bursting into life when Oliver enveloped it in his own.
“I should have listened to you, Joss, and only you. The mess I’ve made of everything, I’m so damn—”
Joss threw himself into Oliver’s arms and crushed their mouths together. Deep and desperate, the kiss wasn’t just a kiss, it was a life raft on a stormy sea that would bring them, battered and beaten though they were, to a safe, calm harbour.
It was the kiss that would bring them home.
