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I turn to my brother and his mate, who has the decency to look a little ashamed. “What? I thought maybe I could help, give you some tips, brotherly advice, you know?”
Well that may be impossible because I think I just disowned him.
What time did they start drinking, I wonder? Because they are a mess. Tor’s hand is wandering dangerously up and down Caelan’s thigh, creeping closer and closer to the no-go zone, his head resting on Caelan’s shoulder with a contented sigh.
Caelan, thankfully, grabs my brother's hand, forcibly moving their now joined appendages to the table. I eye him balefully and Caelan, out of the lot of them, is the only one with the good grace to look chagrined.
“I’m sorry, honestly. I thought we were going to come for a quiet drink, but then these two idiots got all competitive and started drinking some special drinks Roan cooked up and now here we are.” He shrugs apologetically, a hint of a blush on his handsome face, and his sincerity thaws me. Just a little.
I’m still mad that my brother decided to come here atallon my first day, like a child on the first day of school. But whatever.Tor beams at his mate, cow-eyed and dopey, drunkenly shaking his hand free to squeeze Caelan’s bearded cheeks with both hands.
“You are just so gorgeous. I love you so much.” I’ve never seen my brother so sloppy as he tries to mash his face against Caelan’s in what I think is meant to be a kiss.
Seldon arrives just as Caelan manages to wrangle Tor back into his seat. Meanwhile, Edith and Seff had slid out of theirs, falling under the table giggling at Tor and Caelan’s struggle. It’s an absolute shit show, and they are definitely earning every second of their hangovers tomorrow.
“What in the Gods’ name did they drink?” I frown at Seldon as he approaches. But switch to a smile when I notice he’s wearing a shirt I’d bought for him on our shopping trip in Twin Heads - a satin, slightly oversized black shirt tucked into his trousers and unbuttoned to almost his navel, showing off his smooth, defined chest and a chunky diamante choker that accentuates the creamy paleness of his neck. Seldon has a definite flair about him I am still a little in awe of. “Nice shirt.”
I even throw in a little wink, and he preens, running his hand over his impeccably styled hair, the vibrant red locks pushed back in a way I could never achieve with my curls.
“Thanks, a cute boy bought it for me.”
I snort and roll my eyes with a goofy smile. The others at the table ignore us, now yelling at each other about the results of some sports thing I have absolutely no interest in or understanding of. Seldon watches them for a moment with growing horror, like a mad scientist witnessing his monster come to life. Except there arefourof them.
“Uh, Roan’s been playing with some cocktail recipes, and they offered themselves as taste testers.” He looks back over his shoulder at Roan who is behind the bar trying to contain his laughter. His face is bright red and strained from the effort.
How he still looks incredible is beyond me, but that flicker of heat that he always manages to ignite in me flares to life once more. I swallow hard, my tongue thick in my mouth, and try to refocus on Seldon. “They may have been a little strong…”
With a dramatic flair that I only would have dreamed about in my past life, I wave my hand at the lot of them, now once again falling all over each other crying with laughter. I don’t even think they are laughingatanything.
“Yeah, ya think? I’m not dealing with this one. These guys are yours.” I stalk off towards the bar, flipping them the bird over my shoulder as they cry out for me to stay.
The night is long, and I am a special new kind of exhausted when I eventually crawl into my bed above the tavern later that evening. The work is hard, in a very different way to what I am used to. Lots of running back and forth, carrying precariously large loads of glasses and dishes, trying to navigate the crowds with a level of grace I never really knew I had.
Only in the solitude of my shower, with the water pounding my shoulders in an attempt to work out the knot hiding there, would I admit it had been… fun.
The patrons had been lively but always nice and respectful enough. I have a sneaking suspicion that is owed largely to Roan standing behind the bar, his arms crossed over his wide chest, glaring down all of his customers, like theyhadn’tall heard the story of the time he’d got all weirdly hot, berserker protective the night the group of fauns had bumped me.
The way he’d flexed those thick ropey muscles, getting all growly and intense, was definitely a memory I’d replayed more than once during my, uh, special alone time.
I’d always thought I was an introvert or at least a loner. But after the past few weeks hanging out here at the Black Stump, and even tonight working, I’m beginning to think that maybe the problem was just that I was surrounded by assholes.
I mean, yeah, I’m too tired for that special alone time, even if Roan had looked especially hot tonight wearing the white shirt that is a little tight and see-through, so you could see the outline of his nipples and the dusting of hair on his chest when the light hit just right. And I’m a little burnt out on the socialising thing for the day, but it feels like a good thing. My cup is full and all that.
The sheets of my bed are cool and soft, just like they always are. I’m even getting better at making my bed. Since I've gotten to become friends with everyone here, it feels weird having them clean up after me, so I am trying to learn, reminding myself that Iwantedto learn how to take care of myself and be my own person.
Turns out that was a lot easier to do when you had a safe place to land when you fell. And that’s what I had growing here, even if the Darius-shaped ghosts in my dreams like to taunt me that I’m taking advantage of their kindness. That they pity me. That I’m still not doing things on my own, still relying on someone else to pave the way for me, and hand things to me.
Dream ghost Darius likes to pull at the threads of my insecurities just as much as real life Darius did.
I shove at my pillow a couple of times to rearrange it under my head and curl up on my side, the dim sounds of the tavern a comforting white noise. I wait for the prickle of bitterness to creep in, that I once could have cast a quick spell to drown out the noise, one of the constant niggling reminders of everything that I lost, but it doesn’t come. Only a cosy feeling ofrightnessthat follows me on the grounds of the Black Stump Tavern. Settledness. Like coming home, as my eyelids finally grow heavy, and I drift into sleep.
Theo
I’ve worked harder inthe last couple of weeks than I swear I ever have in my life. We’ve been smashing out the work on the cottage and it is almost nearly liveable.
After essentially bullying and then emotionally blackmailing Seff into letting me pay him - all that trauma I’d been through has to have a silver lining somewhere - he managed to fit us into his schedule more consistently and without sacrificing other work.
Caelan and Tor have been swinging by whenever they can, too. Tor is always super apologetic that it’s never as often as he feels it should be, but in the past couple of months I’ve seen him more than I had in the entire year before that.
