Prologue

MOUSE

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

- Mary Oliver

T he rain that had been just a light drizzle when we left the farm had turned into a steady downpour. Mum was busy texting on her phone. A message to Simon, no doubt. We were running late and should have already been at the shop. Today was the day that Simon and Callum officially took over from Cal's dad as owners of Viking Ink, and they were having a party to celebrate. Clients old and new were coming to the shop to wish Simon and Cal good luck with the new venture.

I'd gotten off early from college and caught the train back to Tewsbury so I could help them celebrate. Mum was bringing her Black Forest cake and twenty of her famous mini quiches. Well, nineteen after one accidentally ended up in my mouth as I was loading them into the back seat of the old Defender.

We were running late, no thanks to Mum's favourite house sheep deciding to give birth right before we were supposed to leave. Mum was the most pragmatic and reasonable of the people running the farm. She worked mostly single-handed while Dad was away on the rigs, so she had to be that way. But she lost all sense of reason when her animals were involved, especially the smelly mound of wool and attitude that was Cassoulet. She was in lamb with her first, and Mum fussed like she was having the lamb herself. Somehow, dressed in my best clothes, I'd ended up arm deep in the business end of an ewe in labour. That was not how I'd planned on my weekend starting. Thank fuck it had gone smoothly. Both ewe and lamb were now happily in a warm pen back at the farm, and we were trying to make up for lost time.

"Take the coast road, it will get us there faster." Mum looked up from her phone and squinted at the foggy windscreen. Not that she could see much more of the road than I could, especially since her glasses were sitting on the kitchen table instead of on her face. That was the reason I had the job of driving. I didn't mind it, but the coastal road was not one of my favourite drives. The sheer cliffs that ran parallel to the road caused my butt to clench and my stomach to feel like I was on a roller-coaster. Given the choice, I would always choose the longer inland route to Tewsbury.

The long stretch of road was where Mum taught both Simon and I to drive and it was the quickest route to town, but during winter the road was almost always obscured with mist, and wet from sea spray. You had to keep your wits about you as you drove, not looking at your phone or getting distracted by stuff. It was why Mum taught us to drive along this stretch of road. She wanted both of us to be prepared for anything when we drove.

Mum was the practical one. She ran the farm and dealt with the books while Dad worked away. They'd agreed that the money Dad made on the rigs would keep the farm and family afloat. The farm, while not floundering, was not making a heap of cash, but neither she nor Dad wanted to sell up and move into Tewsbury. They were both farmers at heart—not something Simon and I inherited.

Mum reached over and squeezed my hand, reassuring and warm. "Just focus on the road, love. Simon will understand. He was born on the farm too. He knows how it goes sometimes."

I nodded, letting out a sigh. Mum was right. Simon would understand. I just hated turning up late to anything. I was always the guy who turned up half an hour early.

"So, that young lad I saw you with at the café yesterday. Something serious?"

I could hear the hopeful smile in Mum's voice and risked a glance at her. Yep, she was smiling. The woman was way too invested in my dating life.

I shrugged, leaning forwards a bit. The rain was coming down harder and the wipers were doing a piss-poor job of clearing the windscreen.

"So who was the lad, Mitchell? Or is it some big secret?" Mum huffed out a soft, exasperated laugh.

"The guy was no one special. He used to go to school with me. He just wanted to hang out and catch up, or really, just find out if Simon was seeing anyone." It was the sad truth that, compared to my brother, I was second best. Simon stood head and shoulders above any other guy in the village and was built like some sort of Viking god or some shit. He had Mum's flaming red hair that curled just the right way, not like the messy black bird's nest mine was at the best of times. Where Simon was tall, I was barely five foot four and built with the same proportions as a broomstick. Simon had an easy laugh and bright grin, whereas I had a sharp tongue and an impressive frown. As brothers we were night and day, but I loved the heck out of him—and I also knew I didn't stand a chance when it came to the dating game and competing with my brother.

"Oh, lille Mus, I'm sorry."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at Mum's use of my nickname. "Honestly, Mum, it's fine. I don't have time for dating, not until I at least finish college." I wasn't lying, but I also wasn't going to tell her I was having enough fun visiting a local BDSM club near college, where I was learning a lot about myself and what I wanted. My parents weren't the sort to shock easily. They had two openly gay sons and hadn't batted an eye when either of us came out. But learning that their little boy got his rocks off having his arse whipped and being called filthy names would be pushing the limits of family sharing. I also wasn't going to let on that I was pretty sure both my brother and Callum visited a similar club. I didn't know exactly what they were into, and as far as Simon was concerned, I was sure I didn't want to know. What Callum got up to, on the other hand, I was more than eager to find out. Not that I'd have the balls to ask, or to admit to either of them I knew what they got up to on the weekends.

Callum Harris.

My stomach did a stupid flip-flop. I'd had a crush on the guy since I was fourteen years old. I was going to ask him today to finally pop my tattoo cherry and give me my first ink.

"Does that lorry look like it's going too fast?" Mum's worried tone echoed my thoughts as I peered at the dark green shape ahead of us in the oncoming lane. Lorries were discouraged from using the coastal road, but this idiot was probably trying to make up time. I slowed the Defender and moved closer to the guardrail.

Between one blink and the next, the lorry had hopped its lane and was careening towards us, the trailer sliding out further into our lane. The wheels of the Defender bit into the soft soil of the shoulder and the steering wheel jerked in my hands. I heard Mum say something, but I was focused on not going over the edge. Everything moved in slow motion as the car lurched to the side. A sudden impact had my head slamming against the steering wheel. The car bounced hard against something, my head bounced against the steering wheel, and my vision swam before I blacked out.

I had to be dreaming. The sound of rending steel, the acrid stench of burning fuel—it all had to be some terrible nightmare. Pain flared the length of my arm, from elbow to shoulder. It felt like I was caught in some torturous device squeezing and burning my arm. I'd wake soon and this would all vanish, and Mum would be yelling for me to get my lazy bum out of bed and feed the chickens.

A muted rumbling sound had me blinking and trying to turn my head. Whoever was talking sounded like they were far away or stuck underwater. Moving had been a big mistake. Sharp pain lanced through my head and continued down the rest of my body. When I tried to speak my voice came out rough, like I'd smoked a pack of Dad's unfiltered cigarettes.

"Hey, Mouse, take it easy, okay? I'm here, lad." I recognised Callum's deep voice and felt the pressure of where he was holding my hand.

What the fuck had happened?

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself down, but that only made everything hurt worse.

I was in a hospital bed; my arm and legs were swathed in bandages. Images of a crash, the lorry hitting us and the Defender fighting me as I tried to stop us going through the guardrail. Mum hanging upside down, her seat belt the only thing holding her in place. Being unable to move, my legs trapped. My breathing came out in ragged gasps as I tried to stop remembering.

"Mum." I sat up, or at least tried to. Callum's broad hand was holding me still.

"Mitchell." Callum's use of my full name pulled me up short. Nobody ever used it except for Mum, and then she had to be pretty pissed at me or wanted me to pay attention.

"You need to lie still." Callum's hand was a warm weight on my chest. I could feel the sluggish pull of whatever painkillers they were feeding me trying to take hold again, but I had to know what happened to Mum.

"Damn it, Mouse! Sit the fuck still. The doc says they are taking you down to surgery soon."

"Surgery! I don't give a fuck about surgery." My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. "Where's Mum? Why won't you tell me?"

The machines they had stuck to me were making all sorts of erratic beeping sounds and I was certain a well-meaning nurse would be in to see what the fuss was soon. But before that happened, I needed answers. Cal leaned in closer. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His normally astute grey eyes were dimmed. Concern for me was etched across his face.

"Why won't you tell me what's happened?" The words came out as a sob. Any shred of calm I owned had flown out the window when I woke up here.

"Mitch."

"Tell me!" I roared with the last of my strength.

"She didn't make it. She's gone." Callum spoke with a painful finality. He had to be lying, but why the fuck would he? Was he crying? Callum didn't cry. He was the strongest of us all. Nothing, and I mean nothing , got to him.

"Why the fuck would you say that?" I accused, my unbandaged hand going to the leads that were stuck to my chest. Callum's hand was there in seconds, stopping me in my tracks.

Before I could do anything, he was holding me like a fucking baby. The realisation of what he said finally hit me.

My mum was dead, and it was my fault.

Guilt and grief crashed over me in an unending wave. This had to be a bad fucking dream. I was going to wake up in a minute and Mum would be here, and everything would be alright.

"Mouse, stop that." Callum spoke like he knew what I was thinking. His arm tightened around my uninjured shoulder, holding me close. "This wasn't your fault." He spoke with the resigned patience of a man who knew he wasn't going to be listened to.

The curtain of the cubicle was pushed open and I saw my brother's face. Simon looked gutted. He looked broken, and all I could think was that I'd done this to us.

"Mouse! Thank fuck." With two short strides he was at my bedside, pushing Callum gently aside, trying to get his arms around me. "I thought I'd lost you too."

I felt something inside me shatter then. This was my fault. I shouldn't have taken the damn coastal road. I should have been more careful. I needed to shut down, draw away, rather than face the pain I'd caused my family.