Page 17 of The Clifftop Cottage

“Oh,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Right.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded once and went back to tending the fire, as if that was explanation enough.

The heat began to creep into the room properly now, thawing her fingers, her shoulders, the tight knot lodged beneath her ribs. Outside, the wind still battered the cottage, but in here the sound was dulled and distant, as though the world had stepped back a pace.

Gabriel glanced her way, his expression unreadable, before turning back to tend to the stove. The sound of the wind battering the walls filled the small space between them.

Once the rain eased to a gentle patter and the wind calmed to a whisper, Gabriel led Erica back down the hill. The lantern he had pulled from a cupboard between the snug living room and the compact kitchen swung gently in his hand, casting warm, flickering light onto the path ahead. The night felt less menacing now, softened by the lantern’s glow and Gabriel’s steady presence beside her.

He had insisted she wear his coat, a thick, rugged thing that smelled of ash and earth. It was far too large, the sleeves hanging well past her hands, but Erica gratefully clung to it. She still shivered, her body trembling uncontrollably, but the coat and his quiet reassurance helped steady her.

With one arm around his shoulder, she walked tentatively. The lantern’s light bobbed ahead of them like a guiding star. Chep, his dog, stayed close, casting occasional glances up at Gabriel as if seeking approval or awaiting instructions.

The descent was slow, each step deliberate, and by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, Erica felt the exhaustion settle deep into her bones.

Gabriel helped her into the car, his hands gentle but firm as he guided her. The lingering ache in her ankle flared as she settled into the seat, but it was manageable now.

“You sure you don’t need me to drive you?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of quiet. His voice was low and even. “Chep will wait here. I wouldn’t dream of letting your fancy BMW smell like damp dog.”

She couldn’t see his face clearly in the low light, but she heard the smile in his words.

“Thank you.” She hadn't meant to sound quite so vulnerable. She started the car, relieved her foot was steady enough to work the clutch. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“It was nothing,” he replied, stepping back a fraction but staying close to the open door. “I was heading out anyway. And the cottage … well. It has its uses.”

“It’s beautiful,” Erica murmured, though her thoughts had already wandered back to Leah's. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the gearstick. “Gabriel – could we … could we keep how we actually met between us? I just …” She faltered, the words tangling. “I’ve been going through some things, and I wouldn’t want anyone to …”

He raised a hand gently, stopping her. Then he crouched beside the open door, meeting her gaze.

“As far as I’m concerned, you were out for a walk,” he said. “That’s it. None of my business, none of anyone else’s. Just yours.”

The sheer simplicity of it and his total lack of judgement brought a sudden ache to her throat. Erica managed a small nod because she knew her voice would surely fail her if she tried to speak.

She started the engine. The dashboard lit up, the heater coughing into life, warm air beginning to fill the car. Still, Gabriel didn’t move away. He remained crouched beside her, one side of his face caught in the lantern’s glow, the other swallowed by shadow.

For a moment, she wondered what he was thinking. Then he spoke, quieter now, his tone careful but sincere. “Whatever it was you thought you might do … just give yourself a moment next time. Long enough to ask for help.”

The words lingered in the air between them, heavy and unflinching. He stood slowly, closing the car door with a firm but gentle motion.

Erica’s hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel, her chest tightening with a lump that felt both familiar and unbearable.

She drove slowly back to Leah’s, the sound of the engine humming low in the background.

And yet the lump remained, sitting in her throat like an unwelcome visitor.

An old presence she had no interest in welcoming back.

7

Leah stood in Erica’s doorway the next morning, holding two steaming mugs. She stepped inside and handed one to Erica, who sat up groggily, propping herself on one elbow. Erica accepted the tea with a grateful murmur but braced herself for what was coming.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” Leah said, leaning against the doorframe, her voice carrying that practised blend of concern and gentle authority.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Erica replied, her voice hoarse with sleep. She took in Leah’s appearance – blue overalls, hair pulled back into her usual tight messy bun, still damp from her morning shower.

“Well, I would have preferred you let me know when you came in,” Leah continued, her brow furrowed. “I woke up in a cold sweat and had to come in here early this morning just to check on you. Please, Erica, keep me updated. You’re living under my roof, and that does come with some responsibility, I’m afraid. Maisie was asking for you last night, she wanted a bedtime story. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Erica muttered, the words tumbling out too quickly, like a child caught sneaking in past curfew. She sipped her tea, the warmth soothing her throat but doing little to loosen the knot in her stomach. From down the hall, the sound of a morning radio show drifted in, the DJs laughing wildly at some energetic joke.