Chapter 3

Three

MOUSE

T he bench I was sitting on dug into my arse. The old wooden slats were long overdue to be replaced. Staring at my phone, I tried to work out why I felt uneasy about agreeing to meet up with Ziggy tonight. Earlier today the idea had sounded perfect, just what I needed. A no-strings hookup and getting my arse beaten. What more could a guy want? But now I wasn't so sure.

From my spot, I could see over the shingled roofs of Tewsbury and out into the bay. Normally looking out at the sea would calm me down at least a little bit, but it wasn't doing the trick tonight.

I heard the thud of the hall door closing but didn't bother turning around. It was probably someone looking for some fresh air or sneaking a smoke. Then Simon settled on the bench alongside me. The old seat gave a groan that had me worried that it would collapse.

"Thought you might have disappeared out here," Simon said conversationally as he pulled his leather jacket around himself a bit tighter. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed the temperature drop.

"Just needed a bit of space."

"You okay?" He pulled out a hair tie and fumbled with his hair, pulling it up in its usual messy bun.

I shrugged noncommittally. "You know me and crowds. Just gets a bit much." I looked over at him and saw his gaze was drawn out to the bay too.

"I'm glad you're here. It means a lot to Rhys and me." Simon kept his gaze on the dark bay. I could see by the slight twitch in his cheek he was worried about something.

"Course I came! A chance to get pissed and celebrate my big brother getting engaged to the love of his life?" Maybe that came out a bit harsher than I meant, given the frown Simon shot me.

"No seriously, I'm stoked for you two. It's just a bit crowded inside." I reached out and clumsily patted his shoulder. Simon was always the more demonstrative of us when it came to affection.

Simon leaned sideways, bumping his head against mine. "We're both glad you're here, too." As if sensing my pensive mood, he slung his arm over my shoulders. "Dad is pretty much in his cups. Poor Joe seems to be keeping him from trouble, but I wonder how long until Dad manages to insult one of the Tewsbury Circle." I let out a loud chuckle. The Tewsbury Circle were a group of older ladies who all did craft and cooking projects and had adopted Rhys into their circle. They even helped him find the best recipe for scones, which was a hotly debated topic within the group.

"I give him another hour before he tells one of them a dirty joke or argues about the best way to make a pineapple upside-down cake," I answered.

"Thank fuck Joe seems to have a handle on him." Simon said, stretching out his bloody long legs. Growing up I'd always been jealous of Simon's height and build. I was built like Mum, short and slender, just with Dad's dark hair—well, before he went grey. I was always thankful for not inheriting her fiery red hair. I'm not sure I would have dealt with the teasing through school as well as Simon had. And the larger he'd got the less the teasing had happened.

"Dad seems happier than he's been in a long time," I said.

"I think he still misses Mum a lot," Simon said softly.

I rubbed my hand against my chest, feeling that familiar ache in my heart whenever Mum was mentioned.

"I miss her every fucking day." I dropped my gaze to the phone I still held. Not looking at Simon, I spoke the words I said to myself every day. "If I could go back and change what happened, I would without a thought."

Simon's hand was on my shoulder in an instant, shaking me gently to make me look at him, but I kept my gaze planted firmly down.

"You can't still think that the crash was your fault?" Simon said, and I could hear the hurt in his voice.

Why was he upset? He wasn't the one who killed Mum.

I shook my head, not wanting to answer but having to. "Past is past, and I have to live with it. Today's about you and Rhys, so let's drop this, okay?"

Simon gave a slow nod before he spoke again. "You going to come back in and listen to Cal sing? He is quietly bricking it, I think."

"Not going to miss that. Didn't know the fucker could sing," I answered honestly.

"He's a man of many talents, our Callum," Simon said, standing and holding out his hand to haul me up. As he did, he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. I should have known the sneaky bastard would get his hugs in somehow.

"You're squashing me, you great bear." I tried to complain, but it came out muffled against his chest.

"Sorry, not sorry," Simon said as he hugged me tighter.

"Come on, let's get inside. I want to see Cal singing for myself."

C al and Rhys climbed up on the small stage at the back of the hall. Rhys held his acoustic guitar in his arms as he followed Callum. Everyone in the hall went quiet watching the two of them. I smiled despite my melancholy mood. Cal looked like a deer stuck in headlights. Not a look I'd seen him wear before.

Callum tapped the microphone, clearing his throat. "Alright, you lot of miscreants, seems I made a drunken promise to our grooms-to-be about singing and neither of the arseholes are going to let me forget it."

Rhys tilted his head, giving his best puppy-dog eyes. "You love us."

Callum tilted his head towards Rhys. "Not that much, lad."

"Liar!" I yelled out, enjoying Callum's suffering just a little bit. Cal glanced out over the gathered crowd and gave a wolfish grin when he found me.

"Alright, I'm going to sing the darn song, then we can get back to our festivities. Rhys, if you don't mind."

Rhys stepped forwards and started to strum the notes to a familiar and much-loved tune. I held my breath as Callum started to sing the opening verse of "Hallelujah," moving through the guests to get closer.

Callum's voice was husky and deep, like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen had a love child. Alongside me, Simon was grinning like a proud Daddy bear. He was exchanging sappy looks with Rhys, who smiled and blushed in equal parts.

I looked back to the stage and caught Callum's eye, and for one foolish moment I felt like he was singing just for me. All the feelings I had—the longing, the guilt, the want for something different, something better—bubbled out in quiet, bitter tears, but I couldn't look away. I couldn't hide the tears I shed for everything and nothing.

I should have moved away, but I was rooted to the spot. Listening to Callum, my noisy brain shut down for the first time all night. I couldn't deny it anymore. I wanted Cal more than air, but I couldn't ever have him, and if I stayed, I was going to say or do something that was going to put the friendship we had at risk. I could make peace with not having him as a lover, but losing his friendship would kill me.

Callum finished singing to howls and loud applause from the gathered crowd, and I hastily wiped the tears from my face with my hand. I pulled myself away from the stage and walked determinedly towards the hall door. I needed to drive Callum from my head, and Ziggy and The Pit were the only way I could see myself doing that. I heard my dad call my name as I walked past, but I ignored him, moving forwards and out of the hall. It didn't take me long to make the walk to Viking Ink. I texted Ziggy, asking him to come and pick me up out the front of the shop.

I sat my arse down on the small bench near the shop and scrolled absently through my Instagram. Rhys had already uploaded photos from tonight and I left a comment with a serious amount of heart emojis on a photo of the two of us, and one of him looking all dewy-eyed at Simon.

Fuck, they were so cute together. I felt kind of shit for leaving. I wondered if it was too late to cancel with Zig. Maybe I should man up and just admit to Cal what I was feeling. For a moment I nearly gave in to common sense, but that nasty little voice inside my head, the one that was getting louder every day, reminded me that I was broken, and I wouldn't do that to Callum.

I saw Zig's car pull up near the shop. Too late now anyway. Even if I tried to cancel our plans, Zig would probably make a scene.

I plastered a fake smile on my face. This was a bad idea, but it was the only way I could move forward.