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Hayden hasn’t only stopped that rhythmic swaying. He’s stopped breathing.
“You okay?” I ask quietly while Charles follows his son and crouches to dig through leaf matter with him. I dig too, only through memories of a wedding. The only Mitch I’ve met lately was at the chapel. Nice guy. Friendly. So why does Hayden look like Charles just punched him?
It has been years since I could have protected an adult but didn’t.
Almost a week since I last tried to do the same for children in boats and couldn’t.
Those boats were already close to sinking before I could wade after them.
I can’t let Hayden drown now.
“Hey, Charles?” I waggle my phone. “I need to take Hayden somewhere while it’s still light. To show him something important.”
I recognise Hayden’s next look, saw it plenty after wading out behind those boats with Reece Trelawney. Now Hayden grabs my lifeline the same way parents grabbed life vests printed with the Safe Harbour logo for their kids before the current tore between us. Today, a current of relief draws Hayden closer to me.
“Y-yeah,” he grits out. “Sorry, Charles. We have to go.”
Charles blinks. He also smiles just as easily as ever. “You’re going out together this evening? Lovely! Well, don’t let me keep you.” He takes back those content babies and gives Hayden one last piece of advice. “You’re a natural with the little ones. Just follow their lead and let them make their mark. You won’t go wrong if you do that.”
Hayden follows my lead first.
He’s one step behind me all the way to where the woods meet the car park. He grinds to a halt beside a weeping willow to scrubat his face, and with no beard left to hide what his face shows me the moment his hands drop, I have to steer him backwards, because this look?
It’s too raw to share.
A curtain of narrow branches closes around us, green leaves shielding him from view, and he says, “Thanks for the save.” This comes out on a sigh. “Just wish I didn’t need it.”
“Need what?”
“For you to make an excuse for me.” Hayden straightens his shoulders, although that looks to be a challenge. “If I will be working with Mitch, I’m not gonna be able to swerve him forever. Especially if he brings Justin with him. Might as well go find him right now and face it. It’s just…” He scrubs at his face again, nothing hidden once his hands drop.
What the fuck does he have to look ashamed about?
I’ve seen that look on him once already. Now I remember where, and a different conversation floods back.
Shame had stained his cheeks when he’d told a bride and groom about crashing and burning out of soccer stardom. No wonder he doesn’t want to repeat it with someone who sounds fixated. Because that’s what I overheard on a pew in a chapel. This Justin person has a footy scrapbook he wants to show him.
Seeing Hayden start to turn on his heel to go do just that does something to me.
I don’t have a lifeline to throw him. Hayden doesn’t need that or a life vest from me. He’s more than strong enough to wade through repeating that soccer story, only I don’t want that for him.
I really don’t.
Don’t ask me why. All I know is that I blurt, “It wasn’t an excuse. I do want to show you something.” I blurt this even faster. “For my book.”
“For your book?” His head dips. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
I’m fucking this up, which is what happens, I guess, when your life doesn’t lend itself to dating. Or when you rush into banging someone’s brains out as a one-off only to find out that you can’t stop thinking about them, even after he told me straight that anything long-term wasn’t on his agenda.
It isn’t on mine either.
I still try harder.
“I mean, yes, what I want to show you will be good for my book, but you were the first person I thought of when I saw it. I wanted to show you right away. Came looking for you the minute we got back.”
His head rises, and man, I’ve seen some epic sunsets in the last few days. This sunrise of a smile is the best yet.
I part willow branches to point at his Land Rover. “You got your keys?”
