Page 133 of Pull Me Under

‘Take her home, Harding,’ Cal adds. ‘Before Tom starts crying.’

‘I’m not crying,’ Tom protests, definitely misty-eyed. ‘It’s allergies.’

Brynn’s already standing, her hand still in mine. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she tells Cassie. ‘It was lovely.’

‘Go.’ Cassie waves us toward the door, beaming. ‘We’ll do this again. Properly. When this one’s learned to use his words before crashing family dinners.’

I probably deserve that.

Brynn’s laughing as I pull her toward the door, and the sound of it – bright and free and happy – is worth every awkward moment that came before.

Outside, the night air is cold and sharp with salt. The moon has risen over the harbour, painting silver across the water.

I stop on the garden path. Turn to face her.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Hi yourself.’ She’s smiling. That smile I’ve become addicted to. ‘That was quite a speech in there.’

‘I’ve been practising.’

‘Have you?’

‘No. Made it up on the spot. Couldn’t stand watching Morgan charm you for another second.’

She laughs, stepping closer. ‘He wasn’t charming me.’

‘He was trying.’

‘Maybe.’ Her hands find my chest, smoothing over the fabric of my too-nice shirt. ‘But I was too busy waiting for you to show up.’

‘Good.’ I kiss her, soft and sure, right there on the Morrisons’ garden path where anyone could see. ‘Because I meant what I said. I’m done hiding this.’

‘Even with your dad?’

‘Even with him.’ I rest my forehead against hers. ‘You’re worth more than an ancient-history grudge. Whatever happened between our families – that’s their history. Not ours.’

She’s quiet for a moment. The beat of her pause crackles. ‘I found some letters from and to my dad.’

I pull back slightly, searching her face. ‘Letters? Like, before text messages? Imagine a life so laborious.’ She laughs and punches me on the arm. A love tap. I’ll take it. ‘What about?’

A cloud flickers across her expression, but it drifts off as quick as it arrived. ‘I’ll dig them out and show you. They’ve made me see my dad differently.’

‘Yeah.’ I turn us for the lane that leads up to the Trelawney Cottage of Destruction. ‘In what way?’

‘Like someone with feelings. Not just an old drunk with anger in his veins.’

I squeeze her fingers, letting our hands rock gently between us.

‘I’m here to listen. I’m not only an excellent mechanic, fisherman and best lay in the village.’

Her snort startles a bird that’s settled on a roof for the night, making it flap off into darkness.

‘Tomorrow.’ She leans in and skims her lips across my cheek. ‘If your ego hasn’t swallowed the universe by then.’

I chuckle. With Brynn’s hand in mine and the whole village about to find out we’re together, I can’t bring myself to care about tomorrow.

‘Take me home, Jude,’ she says.