July - Chapter Eight

“Shit,” muttered Rochelle, her foot tapping a staccato on the kitchen floor. “Shit shit shit shit shit.”

“Please breathe,” Jeremy reminded her, though his own foot was tapping just as quickly.

Rochelle exhaled in a long rush, then pushed her fingers through her hair. She was staring at the cross, which lay on their kitchen table, shining in the overhead light, and her eyes were huge.

Jeremy watched her, and tried, without success, to quell the excitement screaming under his skin. The coincidence was almost surreal; finding the book, and then three days later, finding the cross, seemingly by complete accident.

Aggie had been the last one to catch on — at first, she had been puzzled by the way Jeremy stumbled and lost his footing once he saw the cross, and the way Colin swore quietly under his breath. But then, she remembered, and had ducked down, picked up the cross, then dragged the boys back to their camp.

“We should go, now,” she said to both of them, stuffing the cross into the food bag before putting on her clothes. “Your mum needs to see this, right?” she said to Jeremy.

He nodded, pulling on his own t-shirt. “Yeah, she’ll know what to do.”

“Do you think anyone saw it before we did?” said Colin, his voice low as he went about folding up the umbrellas, keeping one eye on the people around them.

Aggie shook her head. “If they had, it wouldn’t have been there. They would’ve made a great big stinking noise about it and taken it to the castle or something. But be cool,” she added, with a self-conscious glance at the other beachgoers. “We don’t want to attract attention.”

Then things got even weirder. Aggie’s phone rang, and when she answered it, her expression changed from surprise to anger.

“What?” she demanded of the other person on the line. “He what?!”

Jeremy’s gaze shot to Colin, who shrugged, equally bemused.

“Right. I’ll be there in five.” She hung up and threw her towel over her shoulder. “Listen, I’ve got to run. Family shit. You two can handle this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy assured her. “But what—?”

“Don’t worry, everyone’s okay, I’ve just gotta go,” she said. “I’ll catch you up later, I promise.” Then she was off, jogging back across the beach towards the town, fielding goodbyes as she went.

“Bit cheeky,” said Colin, in the middle of packing the food away. “Telling us not to make a scene and then running away like a madman.”

Jeremy nodded, rolling up the towels before Mozart could lie down on them. It was easier to joke than to be worried, and he tried not to think too much about what could’ve pulled Aggie away so quickly.

They had left the beach not ten minutes later, Mozart riding on Jeremy’s shoulder, and Colin dutifully said his goodbyes to everyone as they passed through the crowds. Once again, Jeremy thought that this must be what it’s like to be a celebrity — bloody annoying.

Now, the front door opened and closed, then Colin reappeared in the kitchen from going to check his truck, saying, “I’ve definitely left my charger at home, have you got a spare?” Then he frowned, because Jeremy was staring at him. “What?”

Jeremy blinked. “Um.”

Rochelle looked up and immediately rose from her chair. “Jesus, Colin! Did you forget to put on sunscreen?”

Colin froze. It was a long moment before he looked down, and when he did, he winced. “I thought I had,” he said, a touch miserable.

Rochelle was frowning, her hand hovering above his arm. “Does it hurt?”

Colin considered, rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t put his shirt back on, and it was like watching a red ocean ripple. The sunburn coated his body like a new skin, rapidly growing from a dull maroon to a tomato red. “I guess it’s starting to, yeah.”

“Let me see what I have,” said Rochelle, and she ran upstairs.

As her footsteps faded, Colin glowered and pointed at Jeremy. “Don’t.”

“What?” said Jeremy, muffled because he had his hand in front of his mouth.

“Don’t laugh,” said Colin, sitting down in the middle chair with a wince.

“I’m not laughing,” said Jeremy, though his shoulders were shaking and he thought he might get hiccups if he didn’t stop soon.

Colin frowned down at his arms and chest, his chin tucked and his jaw tight. If looks could kill, he’d have his own body in a coffin.

Cheer up, Jeremy wanted to say. Things could be worse. What he said instead was, “At least it’s just your torso.”

Colin hitched up a leg, which was likewise bright red and angry-looking.

“Ah,” said Jeremy, and then he decided to stop talking, even though this was the most Colin had said to him all day.

Rochelle came back in, a large tube of aloe vera gel in hand. “It’s not the good stuff,” she said, standing behind Colin and nudging him until he leaned forward. “It won’t numb you, but it’s better than nothing.”

“You don’t have to—” Colin started to say, but Rochelle shushed him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, squirting out a glob of aloe. She slid the gel across his back, and Jeremy almost missed the way Colin stilled, his eyes closing. “You might have heat stroke,” she continued, looking worried as she coated his back. “How do you feel, apart from the sunburn? Nausea, headache, dizziness?”

“Jeez, mom,” Jeremy complained, before Colin could answer. “Don’t freak him out.”

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Colin replied. “But nothing serious.” Knowing him, that could easily mean a migraine.

Rochelle seemed to sense this, and she tsked. “Jer, can you get him some water?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes but obeyed. Time was getting on, he noticed; Mozart came in through the cat flap in the back door, which she normally did just before dinner. A glance at the clock told him it was getting close to eight. He put the glass in front of Colin, taking care not to accidentally bump him, and said, “Mom, what were you thinking in terms of dinner?”

She nodded at her phone, which sat on the table by the cross. “Order a pizza. I didn’t have time to start anything before you two came back.”

“Sure.” Jeremy grabbed it and scrolled through for the one pizza place on the island — owned by one of two Italian families. He eyed her. “Were you out?”

“Mm-hm.” Rochelle didn’t make eye contact. “With Angus.”

Jeremy sat up, gleeful. “What.”

“Shut up and order the pizza,” she hissed. “Is it helping at all?” she said to Colin.

He nodded, his eyes still shut. He was relaxing under her touch, and Jeremy realized that he looked tired, worn out.

He felt a stab of emotion, which he quickly swallowed. “Meat lover’s, Col?”

Colin twitched open one eye. “With mushrooms, please.”

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Jeremy looked up as his mom came into the sitting room.

She collapsed in the armchair with a sigh and said, “I finally convinced him to lie down and rest. I swear to God, getting that boy to stop moving is like pulling teeth.”

The past few hours had been a frenzy of home remedies and endless Google searches. Rochelle had forced Colin to take a bath infused with milk — “Google says it’ll work,” she’d insisted as the boys spluttered — and sit with cold wet towels draped over his body, and it seemed like it had helped a little. Colin had still been fidgety, antsy even, while they attacked the pizza and watched a few old reruns of Chris Eccleston’s Doctor Who. He’d made quite the picture, a mountain of a boy sitting on the couch with one wet towel draped over his legs, another across his shoulders, and another on top of his head. More than once, Jeremy wondered if maybe his mom was going a bit overboard, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

He and Colin hadn’t spoken much throughout the evening, apart from trading a few barbs. He could sense Colin’s anger and frustration, and nursed his own sulking pride in kind. It didn’t help that they were stuck in the cottage, or that Rochelle had no idea that there was anything wrong — they had to pretend like nothing happened, and Colin was fantastically bad at it. True, he wasn’t always the most expressive person in the world, but when he was pissed, he made his feelings clear. Jeremy knew this was the last place Colin wanted to be, especially with a sunburn that pretty much incapacitated him. It might’ve been easier if Rochelle was in the loop, but he hadn’t told a soul about what had happened — or rather, what hadn’t happened — between him and Colin, and he didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

“Truer words never spoken,” said Jeremy. He was lying on the sofa — which necessitated his legs dangling off the arm — with Mozart in his lap, working through the rest of Colin’s cakes, something he could do now that Colin wasn’t in the room. A light rain had begun to fall outside, the sky darkening in turn, and it almost felt cozy.

Rochelle frowned at said cakes. “Where did you get those?”

“Colin made them.” Jeremy held out the container. “They’re disgusting.”

“I can tell,” said Rochelle, wry, as she took one. “He’s in your bed, by the way.”

Jeremy sat up, jostling Mozart. “He what?”

Her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline. “One, can we show a little sympathy, please? The poor boy has the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen, and, quite frankly, his father’s been running him ragged, he’s completely exhausted. Two, calm down, it’s just a bed!”

Jeremy scowled, fighting off a blush. There wasn’t a way of saying, I don’t want him in my bed because then my bed will smell like him, without seeming incredibly, y’know, unbalanced. “Fine,” he gritted out, lying back down with a whump.

“I don’t have his dad’s phone number,” said Rochelle. “Do you?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Colin’s phone is dead, too, and I haven’t got a charger for it.”

Rochelle sighed. “Damn. I should have asked him before he fell asleep. Not that it matters,” she added, a touch bitter. “Thomas MacGregor isn’t the type to care.”

Okay, what. About a thousand questions spun through Jeremy’s mind, and he sat up again. “What are you talking about? I didn’t know you knew Colin’s dad.”

“I don’t,” she said. “Well, I haven’t met him myself. But Angus barely had a kind word to say about him, and you know Angus.”

“Yeah,” said Jeremy, his mind still racing. He tried to remember what Colin had said about his dad, but whatever details there were had only been given in passing, and never anything that extended beyond a brief word about vet duties or farm chores.

His mom was frowning at him. “Colin never said anything?”

“Colin hardly talks about him,” Jeremy replied. “What did Angus tell you about him?”

Rochelle looked uneasy. “If you haven’t heard it from Colin himself, I don’t want to betray his confidence. But,” she added, “you should know that his dad isn’t, shall we say, very present in his life. And he likes working Colin to the bone just the same.”

Well, thought Jeremy, maybe that’s obvious. “And his mom?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Rochelle sighed again. “Like I said, I think Colin should be the one to tell you, but she isn’t in the picture.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded. “He’s never talked about her, either.” So I never asked, he didn’t say, and he decided to change the subject. “What are you going to do about the cross?”

Rochelle groaned, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “I’m trying not to think about it. I can run some preliminary analysis here at the cottage, but I’ll need the tech at the castle to do anything worthwhile. Besides, you know that metal artifacts aren’t my strongest suit. I’m gonna drop a line to a few people I know in D.C., see if they can figure anything out.”

“But are you gonna tell the chief?” said Jeremy.

“I’ll have to, at some point.” Rochelle considered the cake, which she still hadn’t eaten. “As far as I can tell, it’s a legitimate historical artifact that was recovered on clan property, so ethically, I am obligated to inform him.”

She paused, and Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “But?” he prompted her.

“But,” she went on, “there’s no reason I can’t try and get a little ahead of the ball.” Rochelle glanced at him with just the hint of a smile. “They’ll be at church for all of tomorrow morning, so the castle will be empty. I can do some scans of the book, take photos of the cross, and get it all sent to the U.S. before the family gets back. None of my colleagues in the States have much of a social life, so fingers crossed they’ll have some ideas before the end of the day.” She shrugged. “I’ll tell the chief about it on Monday.”

Jeremy grinned at her, loving every moment of this ridiculous situation. “What are you gonna use as your story?”

She grinned back. “That I was walking on the beach Sunday night and stumbled across it, like the naïve little American I am.”

He gasped theatrically. “Sneaky!”

Rochelle laughed, then finally took a bite of cake. Her eyes went huge, and she made a funny noise. “Shit,” she said, mouth full. “The boy can bake.”

“He can,” Jeremy agreed.

Things were quiet for a moment, and he could feel his mom watching him. He took a breath, waiting for it.

“Are you two okay?” she said, polishing off the cake and wiping the crumbs from her mouth. “Things seemed kind of tense at dinner.”

Understatement, Jeremy thought. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just had a long day.”

Rochelle gave him a searching look, then said, “Okay.” She stood up. “I’m hitting the sack. I’ll probably leave first thing tomorrow morning, since the MacLewans go to the early service, so you’ll be in charge of breakfast.” Her hand tapped Jeremy’s shin. “I left all the bedding up in your room. Colin’s nursing enough painkillers to make a horse woozy, but still, he might not sleep very soundly.”

Jeremy nodded, and Mozart swished her tail back and forth across his chest. “Okay.”

Once his mom was out of the room and safely upstairs, Jeremy exhaled in a long breath, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Fuck,” he gritted out, because when did this become his life? Having to share a room with someone you had feelings for but had definitely not kissed was something straight out of a bad rom-com, light on the rom and dodgy on the com.

He could feel the weight of the words he wanted to say pressing at the back of his throat. It was like being suffocated from the inside-out, his stomach twisting and dropping at the same time. His imagination, as it had done for the past few days, raced and turned and folded over the same thoughts, a thousand different endings to that moment in Aggie’s garden rushing past his mind’s eye.

Then, because the universe either loved him or hated him, his phone began to ring. It was Aggie, and he answered with some relief. “Is everything okay?” he asked her.

Aggie huffed, and the line crackled. He pictured her digging into a packet of Maltesers. “Yeah, I guess, for now.”

“Can I ask what happened?” he said, pushing his fingers through Mozart’s fur until her back arched and she began to purr. “Or do you not want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’ll be the top story in town by tomorrow.” She paused, and Jeremy’s heart thudded. “Someone broke into the general store on High Street.”

Jeremy froze. “Holy shit.” In a place as tiny as Dunsegall, it was almost impossible to imagine crime in any capacity.

“I know.” More rustling, then a crunch. Definitely Maltesers. “Patrick, the owner, called the police, closed the shop for the day, and he got all of the local business owners on the up and up. My dad found out after we all went to the beach, but he called me because, well.” She paused, seemingly trying to find the words. “Patrick came by the shop to talk to my parents, because he thinks that Winston is the one who broke in.”

“Oh, fuck that,” said Jeremy, forgetting to keep his voice down. Mozart’s ear twitched.

Aggie snorted. “I know. It’s complete bullshit. I’m not saying Winston’s a golden child, because he definitely isn’t, but he’s not stupid. He knows better than to try and pull some shit like that in Dunsegall. This place is too small, he’d never get away with it.”

“Not to be weird about this,” said Jeremy, “but does he have an alibi?”

“Eh, sort of.” Aggie chomped through another Malteser. “He was home, asleep, but the break-in happened in the middle of the night, so Patrick’s been implying that Winston snuck out, broke in, and snuck back home.”

“Yeah, because that makes sense.”

“He doesn’t even have a motive!” Aggie burst out. “Whoever robbed the store didn’t take any cash. Only food and, like, a box of matches. Why would Winston break into a store to steal that kind of stuff? And he isn’t normally capable of that kind of effort — if he wants to fuck around with people, he’s much lazier about it.”

“But racism is dead, right?” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes.

Aggie gave a dark chuckle. “Clearly it’s a vampire.”

“So what’s your dad going to do?”

“He’s already phoned up our solicitor, he’s worried about things escalating and wants to nip it in the bud.” She let out a long breath. “I just don’t want this to turn ugly. They need to figure out who did it, and figure it out fast.”

Jeremy hummed, and for a moment, things were quiet.

“Have you heard from Colin?” said Aggie. “He hasn’t texted me, and I wanted to make sure he got home.”

Jeremy blinked. He’d almost forgotten that he hadn’t told her about the events of the past few hours. “Yeah, so, he’s actually asleep in my bed right now.”

There was another pause. Aggie finally said, “I think you need to give me a few more details.”

Jeremy filled her in, telling her about the sunburn — prompting a hearty laugh — and the pizza and the general insanity of his mom’s plan to sneak the cross in past the chief.

“Wow,” said Aggie. “I’d completely forgotten about that damn cross. I can’t believe a little hunk of metal could cause such a stir.”

“It’s only a stir because it’s a mystery,” Jeremy said. “I’m sure once we figure it out it’ll be something really boring.”

“God, I hope not,” she said, and he could hear her grin.

“Anyway.” Jeremy twiddled Mozart’s tail. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Me too,” she said. “I hope you talk to Colin.”

Jeremy sighed. “I’m trying.”

“It’ll work eventually,” said Aggie. “I promise.”

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Talking, it seemed, would not be included in the evening’s events.

Colin was sprawled across Jeremy’s bed, fast asleep and snoring lightly through his mouth. His hair, silvery in the weak moonlight filtering through the curtains, was half-flattened and sticking out at odd angles. The sheet only covered part of his body, some of it tangled around his feet, and Jeremy’s stomach lurched at the sight of all his skin, freckles upon freckles.

Sure, he mentally grumbled, closing the bedroom door behind him, a half-naked Scottish mountain in my bed. What could be better?

He tiptoed around the room, tugging off the jeans and hoodie he’d put on after getting back from the beach. The air was still warm from the long, sunny day, and in the corner, an ancient fan whirred in its endless loop, pushing a mild breeze across the room. Mozart hopped up onto his desk chair, watching him with her lamp-like eyes, and he frowned at her in return.

Sure enough, there on the floor by the bed was the good old pile of sheets and blankets. Jeremy knelt down with a sigh, then went about putting everything together, pushing a few books and an old pair of earbuds out of the way. His heart was pounding in his ears, and when he finally curled up on the stiff wooden floor under the thin blanket, the roar of the waves dull in the air around him, he knew that he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon.

Time began to melt. Above him, the shadows on the ceiling shifted and slid, and he found himself counting the occasional creaks and groans of the old cottage as it settled in for the night. When he closed his eyes, he felt the push and pull of the ocean around his body, the grit of the sand under his toes, the look on Colin’s face when Jeremy told him not to.

A dull ache blossomed where his shoulders and hips met the floor, and he started to toss and turn, woozy with fatigue and the sensation of floating. He suddenly became aware that he was rolling, spinning, and then falling, and he twitched, gasping into the silence.

The grey ceiling greeted him. Jeremy rolled over, forcing himself to take a breath, and saw that the moon had shifted in the sky. Around him, the house was quiet, and then —

“Bloody hell,” mumbled Colin, his voice thick with sleep. “Would you quit moving?”

Jeremy froze, now very much awake. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Colin made a noise somewhere between a groan and a mumble, then fell quiet.

About ten minutes passed in relative silence. He strained to hear if Colin’s breathing slowed, but it seemed like he was still awake.

“Jeremy,” Colin finally grunted, confirming his hunch. “Can you pass me the painkillers? Your mum left them on the desk.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy sat up and grabbed the little bottle. Sitting through the milk bath and the cold towels seemed to have helped Colin earlier, but now, as he went to the bed and handed over the paracetamol, he could feel the heat radiating from Colin’s body.

Colin scowled as he shot back a few pills and drained the glass of water left on the floor. “What’re you looking at?”

Jeremy bit down a laugh, because the situation was ridiculous enough already without Colin putting on a perfect De Niro. “A lobster,” he quipped, before lying back down on the floor.

“Arse,” said Colin, but there was no real heat to it.

Silence fell once again, and Jeremy began to feel himself drifting off. But he was rudely awoken when Colin shoved him, and shoved him hard.

“Stop. Fidgeting,” Colin growled.

Jeremy sat up and glared at him. Colin was right at the edge of the bed, closer than he’d expected, close enough that Jeremy could see the outline of his face, the tuft of his hair. “I’m not fidgeting,” Jeremy whispered, doing his best to sound outraged. “You try sleeping on the floor.”

Colin was smug. “I can, and I have. It’s not my fault you’re so high-maintenance, Yankee.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and lay back down. This whole thing was shooting past ridiculous and gunning for ludicrous.

A few more minutes passed, then Colin burst out, “Either stop moving or switch with me.”

“I’m not moving!” Jeremy hissed, his face getting hot.

“Yes you are!” Colin hissed back. “And it’s bloody annoying!”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He scowled at the ceiling. “If it’s that much of a problem, I can go downstairs.”

But Colin was already moving, shifting around on the bed, and one of the floorboards let out a squeak. “Just get up here,” he growled, and Jeremy’s heart dropped.

“No,” he started to say. “No, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“Oi!” Colin’s face suddenly appeared over the edge of the bed, just two bright, angry eyes in a flushed, shiny face. His hair was vertical, and the whole picture, Jeremy had to admit, was both very hot and very frightening. “We both know you won’t fit on that goddamn sofa, and I am not in the mood to put up with your fidgeting. So move your skinny arse and get in the fucking bed.”

Jeremy’s blush deepened, and his stomach let out another tremor. He sat up, unable to believe this was happening, and said, “At least I remembered to put on sunscreen today.”

Colin’s scowl deepened. He shifted to the inner side of the bed and rather dramatically turned onto his side, away from Jeremy, grumbling something unintelligible.

Jeremy looked down at the empty space and swallowed. The bed was warm, and the blankets were a twisted mess. Sure, it was a queen-sized mattress, but Colin was not a small person. He slid into place, deciding to make and keep himself as small as possible, because the last thing he wanted was to—

Nope, he thought, cutting off that thought before it could finish. Absolutely not.

Lying there, in the dark, on his side, his back a few inches from Colin’s, made it almost impossible to ignore the raw heat that was seeping from Colin’s body. It was astonishing, and soon, Jeremy began to sweat as well. Then, he noticed that Colin was shaking.

He frowned and looked over his shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

It took a moment, then, “Nothing,” Colin grunted. “Itches,” he added, as an explanation.

“Oh.” Jeremy stayed where he was, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Do you need something?”

Colin let out a shuddering breath and said, “Don’t know.”

Jeremy thought for a moment, then got up and went to the bathroom, taking care to be as quiet as possible. The towels they had used earlier were still soaking wet and draped all over the bathtub and shower, trying their best to dry. Jeremy hunted through them before finding a hand towel. He ran the tap and soaked it through with cold water, then squeezed it out and went back to his bedroom.

“Here,” he said to Colin, holding out the wet towel. “This might help.”

Colin nodded. His gaze flashed to Jeremy and he shifted. “I—uh, it’s— it’s my back, my shoulders that are really bad, could you—?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” said Jeremy, too surprised to blush.

Colin rolled over onto his stomach, and Jeremy’s mouth went dry at the sight of all that smooth skin and the muscles bulging beneath it. Trying to swallow, he draped the towel across Colin’s back.

Colin sighed a little, then nodded, and his eyes closed.

Jesus, Jeremy thought. He lay back down, and tried to calm his pounding heart. This is fucking insane, he thought, for probably the hundredth time that day.

It was weird, how so much had changed within the space of a few hours. The image of Colin standing up and walking away in a resolute huff as the seagulls screamed and children bellowed still felt new, recent. He could see the way Colin grinned in the water, splashing Aggie until she was gasping for breath, the way he bent a knee to pick up a pearl-white seashell, the way he squinted at the horizon and continued to insist that no, really, he hadn’t made the cakes. He could see the freckles that rippled across Colin’s shoulders as he swooped in to kick the football, danced under his eyes when he made a bad joke, eyes that were the color of tide pools, clear and yet closed off, worlds of their own.

The sand continued to shift underneath Jeremy’s shoulders as he looked up through the yellow umbrella, even though the umbrella was really just his ceiling and Colin was just breathing, not sleeping.

“Col?” whispered Jeremy.

Colin grunted in reply.

“The other day,” said Jeremy, then he swallowed and tried again. “The other day, in Aggie’s garden, I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to.”

Colin went very very still.

“I just wanted you to know that.” Jeremy stared up at the ceiling, willing his heart to stop pounding. Outside, rain began to fall.

“Okay,” Colin whispered. He was still facing the wall, and his voice betrayed no emotion.

Silence closed in, even as the rain picked up, tapping against the windows. This time, when Jeremy closed his eyes, he finally fell asleep.