Chapter 16

LIAM

I'm not saying I rushed my first job up in Blackpool. I will say that Rowan was one hell of a motivator to be fast and thorough—to get the job done well and hit the road back to Cornwall.

But he's fast as well. I crane my neck to watch him hurry around his outdoor classroom, adding items to a box until a little girl asks to help him. Then he slows down, flashing another smile my way, and all of those packed workdays and the long drive back were worth it.

His next smile is a touch apologetic. He shifts his hold to take that little girl's hand. Her wild curls are familiar. So is Rowan almost dropping the box a few times, only to clutch it tighter, and I wish there wasn't a barrier between us. I'm so curious about what he's decided is worth protecting this time.

Curious about it?

I want to carry whatever it is for him. I don't know why that feels vital, but there is a barrier between us that stops me from helping. More than one. And I don't mean the playground fence or that I'll move on soon while everything Rowan's told me suggests he'd happily root himself here. At least, he'd root himself anywhere that wasn't his old school. He must have had such a bad time there to hate it the way he does. To escape it the way he did. To leave for another country for years, like he's mentioned in our texts back-and-forth each evening.

Today's additional barrier is physical—this new, sturdy safety fence running parallel with the outdoor classroom is proof that Dom Dymond has been busy while I've been gone. He's cordoned off a secure path for site traffic, and that means I'm an extra few metres away, so I can't quite see what Rowan carries. I still lean over it, peering, and here's an unexpected blast from the past—Dom rests his elbows beside mine on this new barrier, settling in to take the piss out of me as if he was one of my old crew.

"Thought you weren't back until Monday. Any particular reason you couldn't stay away?"

"Maybe I want to make a good impression on my new boss."

He snorts. "You've made a good impression on someone." He nods towards Rowan, whose third smile my way is perfectly timed for Dom to see it. It's also a dazzling repeat of what glued me to this spot the moment I saw him, and fuck my life, Dom also sees my attempt to return it.

He doesn't outright laugh at what probably looks a grimace. I still hear humour in what he asks next, pretending he doesn't know this answer. "Where did you say you were working this week?"

"Blackpool," I grumble.

"Which is what? A six- or seven-hour drive away?"

Closer to eight after M42 chaos and Friday afternoon M5 carnage. I don't bother to share that with him. It doesn't matter. He's busy teasing.

"And here I was thinking our project had got you all excited."

"Yeah. Something like that."

There's no way I'm confessing how every night away only made me kick myself for scheduling jobs I didn't even need to take on. Yeah, the cash is nice, but it's not as if I need that motivator. Not with a lump of injury compensation sitting in my savings account and an early pension.

Dom lets me know loud and clear that he's guessed my real driver even without me speaking. He nudges me hard, almost knocking me over, and that takes some doing.

"My Maisie says your Mr. Byrn is magic. That he's one of her best teachers."

"He's something all right." While we watch, Rowan almost trips, and I crane my neck some more, glaring at whatever made him stumble. "That whole space is a health and safety nightmare." Planks are everywhere. Dom's daughter wobbles her way across one, the pair of fairy wings on her back glittering.

"It's good for Maisie," Dom says easily as I count trip hazards that I have no idea how Rowan avoids, not while he's engrossed in helping his little fairy balance. She must cast a spell, because he makes it safely almost to the end of the plank at her side, box still clutched to his chest, all without needing to be blue-lighted to the nearest fracture clinic.

She hops off at the far end, and he cheers. He also wobbles, and I lurch like I could catch him.

"Steady," Dom murmurs, and I let go of a barrier I'd been a split second from vaulting. Rowan doesn't need my help. He's steady enough now, so why aren't I? And why can't I ignore Dom's next chuckle instead of rising to it?

"What?" I snap, and quickly regret it when Dom's eyes twinkle, and yeah, it's been a while since I worked in a close-knit crew. Maybe too long because I'm so out of practice. I still recognise that I've only added fuel to a fire that Dom keeps stoking.

"You might want to make your move fast." He crosses dusty forearms. "Because my Maisie already asked your Mr. Byrn if he's single."

Part of me wishes that I'd heard his answer. The rest of me issues a stern get-it-together order. Rowan and I had one night together and a picnic a week later. Yes, that blow job was intense but it's likely he had an even more intense first week in a job that sounded like an escape, and escaping is a one-man occupation.

At least, it has been for me.

Rowan crouches for something, then stands, glancing my way one more time, and the world might as well stop. There's no escaping that he's my reason for coming back early, my permission to push my van to the speed limit, my reward for a whole work week without him.

I'm dazzled all over again. So dazzled I'm slow to tune into what Dom tells me.

"Now she wants me to invite him home tonight to have a tea party with her. Think she'd even ditch her boyfriend for him, and she's been sweet on Tor forever, but apparently Mr. Byrn's got a magic whistle in his pocket."

Here comes another nudge.

I dodge it this time.

I can't dodge what he asks me. "That's why you're back so soon, right? You want a second blow on his magic whistle?"

"A second?"

Did someone see us in that garden? We were the only people there, weren't we?

I don't want him to regret it.

I also don't want to cause Rowan any professional worries, but fuck, I've spent all week replaying his reaction to me getting on my knees for him. Every jerk of his hips, every stuttered sorry like he had no clue or control—they've been much more welcome flashbacks than the usual.

Dom mentions a different evening.

"Local scuttlebutt is that you're an even faster worker than my Maisie. You can't pull an all-nighter anywhere in Porthperrin and go unnoticed. Especially not down at the Anchor." This time, he waggles his eyebrows. "Believe me, I've done enough early morning walks of shame through that village to know some nosy fucker will always see me. If you're planning on blowing his whistle again tonight, you might want to choose somewhere more isolated."

"I didn't... I'm not…. I mean, yes." Fuck sake. "I mean, Row won't be going out with anyone this evening. He has evening duties."

That didn't stop me from putting in the hours to finish up and get back here, did it? Those long days are my only excuse for being tired enough to admit, "I just wanted to see him even if he's too busy for me."

Dom reacts by melting, which I guess is better than him teasing, so I'll take it, especially as Rowan exits the outdoor classroom to join us.

There's still his box and this new barrier between us. I like that about as much as I like him flashing a signature cautious look Dom's way, as though he's worried. "Who's too busy?" he asks. That wariness swings my way, and I can't lie—seeing it morph into a smile makes every single inch of my long drive worth it. "And too busy for what?"

Dom swings an arm over my shoulders, and that's another close-knit crew flashback. I speak before he can fire any whistle-blowing or walk-of-shame missiles. "For me." I summon a clearer explanation, aware that Dom shakes beside me. At least his laughter is silent. "I mean, that you're too busy to come out with me tonight. Because you're on duty, aren't you?"

The headmaster joins us. "No, Rowan. You?—"

"Aren't on duty?" Rowan says quickly, then reverts to cautious. Worse than that, he's panicked. It's an instant transformation. He pales under smudges of chalk dust and speckles of paint. "I got it wrong?" This next is quieter. "Knew I would." He lifts a chin streaked with mud, and fuck me, this sounds like such a small misunderstanding, but here he is, throwing himself over an edge he doesn't need to. "Sorry. I hope I didn't get any of my other duties wrong. It's just that there are a lot, and they keep changing. I'll keep better track."

Luke Lawson pours oil on his worried waters. "I meant that you aren't on duty until suppertime, which will be a bit later than usual this evening." He gestures to the school minibuses parked beside the main building. "We don't set prep on Fridays, and in good weather we always start the weekend off-site, either on the beach or up on top of High Tor. The sunsets are spectacular from up there. It's one of my favourite places. But the surf's up, so I'm pretty sure the boarding students will outvote me."

Rowan clutches his box tighter. "So I am on the duty rota but you don't need me?"

"That's right. Not until we get back. Unless you want to surf with us? You're welcome to come. The waves should be great."

He can't notice Rowan's flinch. It's all I can see, and I can guess what prompted it and his next almost-hidden shudder. He saw the same waves I did weeks ago, only from a different, high-up angle, didn't he? Saw them, and still wouldn't let that lamb go.

And here's why I drove back.

I'm not ready to let go of him, either.