Calum blinked. “What?”
“I thought you knew?” Brix shot Calum a quizzical look. “I never told you in London?”
“Nope. I mean, you told me that she, uh, died, but you never said how. Jesus.” Calum shook his head and sat down. “Was I that much of a crap mate back then?”
“Cal, don’t torture yourself over my bullshit. It ain’t worth it.”
“I reckon it is.”
“So? I reckon whatever put you on that coach down here is worth me jumping on a train back to London and kicking the shit out of your dickhead ex, but I’ve gotta live with that, ’cause I can’t see you letting me do it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
Calum got lost in Brix’s eyes as he considered the question. The thought of Brix losing his sister in such fucked-up circumstances and then what had come next made Calum’s chest hurt, and he couldn’t imagine anything Rob had done ever mattering as much as the heartache Brix had lived through. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“If you say so.” Brix picked up his tea. “What time is it?”
“Half five. Not much point going to bed now, I s’pose. You hungry?”
Brix didn’t look particularly enthusiastic, but he nodded anyway. “There’s eggs in the bowl and Kim’s bread in the cupboard.”
Of course there was. Calum had grown used to Brix’s constant supply of fresh eggs and homemade bread. He went to the kitchen, sensing Brix a heartbeat behind him, and opened the bread bin. “Damn. Midnight hikes aside, you live the fucking good life here. It’s a world away from the City.”
“You only just noticed that?” Brix moved past him to sit at the kitchen table.
Calum gave him the finger. “I’m serious. It suits you more than I would’ve thought. Far cry from partying all weekend on a bellyful of vodka and a dodgy kebab, eh?”
Brix rested his chin on his folded up arms, his eyes already half-closed again. “Yeah, well, being sensible isn’t always easy, but I need it to be. I won’t make it on a six-pack of Stella and an ounce of weed.”
The statement was ominous and loaded, but Brix effectively ended the conversation by closing his eyes to the world and apparently falling asleep. Calum didn’t have the balls to call his bluff, and set about making breakfast instead—toasting bread and poaching eggs, drizzling them with rapeseed oil from the farm shop a few miles inland—while he digested Brix’s latest bombshell. He’d learned more about Brix in the last twenty-four hours than he had the whole time they’d known each other, but a nagging sensation in his bones told him there was still a vital piece of Brix’s puzzle that remained out of reach.
Calum set two plates on the kitchen table and touched Brix’s shoulder to rouse him. “Breakie’s up.”
“Wha—” Brix raised his head, blinking rapidly. “Wow. When did you cook all that?”
“While you were snoozing. Eat up.”
“Just a sec.” Brix got up and disappeared upstairs. Calum frowned, puzzled, but Brix was back before he could ponder his vanishing act much. “Have we got tea?”
“Yeah, but it’s probably cold.”
“Perfect.” Brix took the mug Calum held out and necked the contents. “Now let me at them eggs. I’m bloody starving.”
Calum couldn’t argue with that. He took his place at the table and ate his breakfast, trying not to keep half an eye on Brix, who seemed in danger of sliding back into sleep even as he ate. Christ. And he does this every month? “Are you working today?”
“Aye. I’ve got no appointments, but I’m opening up for Lena. She’s at the dentist. You? I should probably know, but I can’t keep track of the diary.”
“Not till one. Got a tribal sleeve to refresh.”
Brix hummed. “This breakfast is good. It’s nice to have someone cook for me.”
Guilt niggled Calum’s gut. He was more comfortable living with Brix than he’d been in years of living alone, but aside from clearing up after himself, he’d dodged the kitchen, preferring to stay out of Brix’s way. “I can open the studio for you, if you like? Give you a few hours kip? I’ve got to call the bank and set up a payment plan anyway.”
“Cheers, mate, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you’d been up all night too.”
“I wasn’t up all night.” Calum wiped his plate with the last of his chewy sourdough toast. “I had a good five hours before we went walkabout. And I only went up that cliff once.”