Page 114 of Carry Me Home

‘Say whatever you need to say.’

‘I’m going to tell Kit I hate him.’

‘He’ll understand.’

‘I’m going to tell him this is all his fault.’

‘It is his fault.’

She laughs, breathless and slightly hysterical. ‘I knew I liked you.’

‘Do you want me to get Brynn and Jude?’ I ask. It’s lovely that she asked for me, but I’m not family, not in the way they are. But she shakes her head, grimacing.

‘No, Nina. I need you. You’re the one with the positive energy.’

I don’t know about that, but I’ll take it.

Kit reappears. ‘Car’s ready.’

He crosses to Isla. The panic is still there – in his jaw, in the rigid set of his shoulders – but he pushes it down, smiles with what I think is supposed to be positivity, and takes her weight. Arm around her, hand flat against the small of her back, guiding her towards the door with the same quiet steadiness he uses hauling rope in a gale.

‘I’ve got you,’ he says quietly. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘You’d better.’

‘Always.’

For a moment, watching them, I feel like an intruder. This is theirs – this terror and wonder, this journey they’re about to take. I’m just the friend. The support act.

But Isla reaches back and grabs my hand.

‘Come on,’ she says. ‘You’re not getting out of this that easily.’

The drive to Truro takes forty-three minutes.

I know this because I’m watching the clock, counting the time between contractions, trying to calculate whether we’re going to make it or whether I’m about to witness a medical emergency in the back of Kit’s Land Rover.

Kit drives in silence with his jaw tight and his hands steady on the wheel. He takes the corners too fast but keeps the car controlled – the same way he’d handle a boat in rough water. Focused. Intense.

Isla’s in the back with me, crushing my hand with every contraction. They’re coming faster now. Every three minutes. Every two.

‘Talk to me,’ she gasps. ‘Distract me. Tell me anything.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Gossip. Village news. What’s happening with—’ She breaks off, groaning, her whole body curling forward. ‘What’s happening with the boat? Your coffee boat thing?’

‘It’s happening. Emmett came to look at it. He thinks⁠—’

‘Who’s Emmett?’

‘Someone Brynn knows. The carpenter from⁠—’

‘Oh God.’ She grips my hand tighter, bearing down, face contorting. ‘Oh God, it’s getting worse. They’re not stopping. There’s no gap anymore.’

‘Kit—’

‘I heard.’ His foot presses harder on the accelerator. ‘Ten minutes.’