Just not to me.
The therapist in me knew I was being unfair—that I hadn’t spent my adult life guiding patients through recovery with complete and total detachment. Of course I hadn’t. How many nights had I sat up with Angelo and Dylan? Teaching Dylan how to help Angelo, and Angelo how to let him? Did I do that because they’d become my friends? Or because it was impossible for me not to?
I blew out a long breath and shut the computer with a bang, plunging myself into darkness. The tangents in my head rarely made sense, and no amount of waiting for this particular one to lead me back to Joe would change anything. I’d fucked up, and despite him having the weight of the world on his mind, he cared.
Work abandoned, habit took me out into the yard. Dawn wasn’t far away and the horses knew it. A few called out as I passed their stalls, and even the ponies in the tack room were awake.
I poked my head in, expecting to see George still kipping in the hay. But George wasn’t there and I found myself face-to-face with Dex. “Oh. Erm. Sorry. I was just seeing if George wanted a cuppa.”
Dex eyed me over the top of the weakest pony’s head. “That’s okay. I heard you coming.”
It wasn’t exactly an invitation to hang around, but I leaned on the half-door anyway, watching the friendly pony lick Dex’s neck. “How are they doing?”
“Not so bad,” Dex replied. “I didn’t think this one would make it, but Jonah’s worked his magic.”
Dex’s opinion on Jonah was hard to gauge. He’d been around a lot while Joe had been in hospital but rarely spoke, and true to Joe’s warning that he didn’t care for strange men, he’d given me a wide berth. “What will happen to them when they’re better?”
Dex shrugged. “Adoption, or a city farm, maybe. I’d take them myself, but I haven’t the room. How’s Joe? Sal said he was still banjaxed.”
It took a moment to make sense of Dex’s soft Irish brogue. “He’s tired, but he’ll be okay.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
Dex patted the pony and came to the half-door. He peered at me in much the same way Joe did, albeit without the heat. “You’re a good gorger, eh?”
Gorger.It took me a moment to translate the term for non-gypsy. I dragged a smile from somewhere and chanced it. “I try.”
“You’re like Seb. I didn’t see it at first, but you’re still here.”
“Where else would I go?”
“Home,” Dex said like it made perfect sense. “This farm isn’t the place for every man.”
He shot me a final shrewd gaze and then returned to the ponies. I stared, unseeing, at his back as the mist in my brain began to clear. I’d never considered my London flat less of a home than I did right now, but what did that matter if Joe was alone upstairs while I lapped the yard like a lost lunatic?
I backed away from the tack room and took off for the house. At the stairs, I kicked off my shoes and jogged up to the landing. A pile of cats had found Joe’s hiding place and were camped outside the bedroom, and the closed door gave me pause. Its earlier slam echoed in the tangled mess my mind had become—or perhaps always had been.Be brave.
Holding my breath, I eased the door open, half expecting to find Joe sitting up, his eyes still bright with the frustration I deserved, but he was huddled on the bed, fast asleep, and still dressed in my clothes.
I moved to the window and drew the curtains, blocking the outside world for the first time since Joe had shown me this room all those weeks ago. Then, as though this was my bed—ourbed—I lay down beside Joe and touched his shoulder, tentatively at first, but then with more purpose as my hand slid naturally over his torso and beneath his borrowed hoodie. My fingers found his abdomen and he shivered.
“Harry?”
“It’s me,” I whispered. “It’s okay... keep sleeping.”
Joe hummed and rolled over, his head coming to rest on my chest as though we were made to lie together like this—my arms tight around him, his leg hitched over mine. I buried my face in his hair and breathed him in and, for the first time in days, let sleep carry me away.
Chapter Fourteen
Joe
My mum looking in on me woke me up. At first, I didn’t notice anything different. Recent days and weeks faded away, and I was tramping it on the couch in my muddy work clothes. Then her knowing smile and wink broke through the haze and reality hit me like that bus I’d been running from in my dreams.
She shut the door, her footsteps somehow barely audible on the creaky stairs. I turned my head and there was Harry, sleeping beside me like he’d always been there. My heart stuttered. Grandpa’s room became somewhere else, and in my head, I found an ounce of Harry’s grace and rolled over to straddle his waist, to kiss him awake, and show him without words how happy I was to see him.
But my body was stiff from sleep, sore from the hoof-shaped bullshit in my gut, and the best I managed was a pained gasp. Harry stirred, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. His eyes fluttered open, his gaze met mine, and somehow I knew that nothing between us would ever be the same.