Page 17 of Beneath the Quiet

I don’t wait for her answer. I turn to leave the station. I move through the sliding doors, walk through the car park, and cross the street, taking the path through the churchyard to get to the shortcut that will take me home. The breeze kissing my skin is warmer today, or perhaps it’s my rising temper that makes me think that’s the case.

A sinking feeling settles in my heart.

I hate feeling like this. Like I have no purpose here.

Being here has only solidified that I’m alone, with no family or loved ones to phone or go out and spend an evening with. I take in a shaky breath, hoping that I’ll reach the cottage before anyone can see the tears in my eyes. Perhaps all I need is a good cry to let go of all the pressure that’s built up inside me for the past few weeks.

I only wish I had a shoulder to cry on.

Being alone and being lonely are two very different things, but these days, I’m both.

I glance around as I walk through a lane hidden mostly by trees on one side and a large wooden fence on the other. So distracted by my own melancholic thoughts, I must have taken a different turn than usual, because I don’t recall having been here before. I curse inwardly and squint into the distance when my ears pick up the steady sound of a hammer followed by a mild curse. The wind carries the low voice with it, but I’m still so far away from whoever it is working out here in the field that I can’t make out if it’s a man or a woman. The closer I get, the quicker I get to reveal who it is, and the moment my eyes fall on a mop of sandy-coloured hair, my belly dips.

I’m far from ready to meet the single dad and farmer again, but it seems I can’t escape him. My luck is as non-existent today as any other day, because my right foot gets caught in a hole in the gravel pathway, making me stumble. I let out a small gasp and grab onto the wood next to me.

Aidan’s head snaps up, his glasses adorably askew, and my heart skips a beat.

Be still, my heart.

His lips pull up in a crooked grin, and for the first time since I met him a few days ago, I notice something.

Dimples. Oh, no.

He’s killing me slowly.

Smiling like that at me is lethal to my rusty, underused, and frustrated lady bits.

“Hello, Detective,” he calls out softly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The teasing glint in his eyes makes my brain cells rattle around, and I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water.

Aidan wipes his forehead, and I gulp when I notice the sweat stains on his white T-shirt.

A soft, long pull in my tummy sends heat to my cheeks, and I work my lower lip with my teeth. This can’t be happening.

I’m in lust with the single dad farmer.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” My voice comes out squeaky, and I wince. “Bad day at the office.” I clear my throat and avert my eyes, afraid to let on how unsettled I am. I raise my eyes to the sky, then down, and let them roam across the fields in front of me.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s just one of those days, I guess.” Even I recognise the unease coating my words as I try to play it off, but I’m getting tired of repeating the same words over and over again. They don’t even offer an explanation. They’re just words, and hollow ones at that.

Aidan nods, his smile slowly disappearing. “We all have them. Annoying, but we can’t escape them.”

“Yup.” I look anywhere but at him as the traitorous tears rush back and my eyes well up. I squeeze them shut, breathing deeply through my prickling nose before I open them again. I scan the fields, but I don’t see their beauty. All I see is my own misery and insecurity.

“Maeve.”

His soft voice pulls me back from pretending to admire the view. His smile has disappeared now. Gone is the playful farmer, replaced with a more serious version of him. One whose lips are pulled down, arms crossed. His upper arms flex, his powerful legs wide as if he’s preparing for battle, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

My feelings are all over the place. I can hardly work out which way is up and which is down, but I do know that if I don’t do something, anything, to distract us both, I won’t be able to keep the tears at bay. I heft my heavy bag and turn away, hiding my face from him, when something brown and fluffy trotting to the edges of the fence provides me with just the right excuse to change the subject.

“Are those llamas?” I point towards the creature. I’m still panicking that Aidan’s concern will turn me into a blubbering mess, but the prickling in my nose ebbs away.

“Alpacas.” Aidan whistles and a dark brown alpaca perks its head up and picks up its pace. “That’s Lolly, and the white ones are called Jenny and Sammy.”