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There’s no sign that Rae is still awake inside it.
I hesitate in the hallway, reliving a kiss I hadn’t expected and now can’t stop rewinding and replaying, and my hand rises to knock on his door.
Here’s the thing about me and hesitation: Second-guessing is always fatal. I’ve had years of being trained to read body language, so I should be able to predict Rae’s reaction to me appearing at his bedside, except football didn’t only break my heart. It stole my family’s future andthat’swhat wrecked my instincts.
Can I trust them now?
I don’t.
I tiptoe past that door instead, crashing out in my own room, where I stare at the ceiling until dawn. Then I creep past that closed door again, get back into my Land Rover, and head back along the coast road.
Once I’m at the headland, I do let myself rewind and replay Rae kissing me. Morning dew kissing the hem of my jeans is a reminder as I finish by threading more gorse blossom through the arch the boys set up for me.
I stand back.
It looks good, but I only really trust my choices when Willow stumbles out of her tent, still half asleep, and sees what we made for her. I hope she doesn’t cry again at the chapel where more gold and green waits for her.
I get busy then, setting out tables and chairs and serving a farmhouse breakfast to the guests who arrived late last night while Stefan’s mum talks my ear off. As soon as I’m done at the farm, I head back to Glynn Harber and go check if that chapel doorway decoration still looks okay.
I don’t have an artist’s eye. I kinda wish I’d woken Rae to get his opinion, but I settle for adding some strands of willow while the padre watches. His quiet, “Bless you, Hayden,” follows me back to the stables, where I hesitate before entering, not done rehashing how good it felt to get chosen for once.
By Rae.
That fucking kiss.
I also remind myself that it was from someone who had a high-stress day, and who seems to joke as easily as breathing.
Joking could apply to his plus-one invitation, couldn’t it?
I’ve almost convinced myself of that, which is an unwelcome flashback to waiting to hear who made the academy team, so I give myself a pep talk.
Go inside and ask him if he meant it.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I’ll live if he says no, then I’ll never see him again. Why would I? I’m not heading to France any time soon, and I won’t even be at Glynn Harber if he ever comes back. My contract here is pretty much done and dusted barring the work this wedding interrupted. Our paths won’t cross again after that, and…
It’s funny how I’m alone out here in the stable courtyard and yet I hear the best coach I ever had shouting from the touchline.
Take the shot, Hayden.
I nod as if Dad can see me, and I do it, only Rae isn’t inside.
His bedroom door stands open, and after showering, I pause there again. That’s where I freeze in the only suit that I own after spotting something I recognise written in an open sketchbook.
I break an unspoken rule then, and cross a housemate’s threshold.
Not to nose through his sketchbook for any more fairy king illustrations. I trace a finger over a word he must have copied from what else is on his bed—a diary that spent decades buried in this school’s foundation.
Tatus.
That’s the Polish forDaddy.
I remember printing it on birthday cards to my own back when I was little and he was a giant. The next time that word came to mind? I never said,help me, Daddyaloud while getting marched off a Premier League pitch. Might as well wear a sign sayingking of the fucking fairies.
But think it?
You bet I did, even if wishing for a giant to scoop me up and save me had been pointless.
