Page 21 of The Other Side

“Yes. Why did you react like that?”

“You live on your own?”

“I do. It’s not a working farm anymore. Is there some problem?”

“I don’t know.”

A few minutes later, the silhouette of the cottage appeared, a shape against the rolling, ink-black fields. Osian glamoured the lights on and warm yellow light glowed invitingly from the kitchen windows. Drum pulled into the yard and killed the engine. For a long moment, neither of them moved to unbuckle their belts.

“Well,” Drum said softly. “This has certainly been an interesting shift.”

“Would you…” Osian cleared the sudden gravel from his throat. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” His pulse skipped a beat.

“A drink?”

“Tea. Coffee. Water. Whatever you like.” Really whatever he liked. Osian could produce it.

“Water would be lovely.”

Their eyes met. And for the first time, Drum smiled. It wasn’t recognition. Not yet. But it was a beginning.

Drum left his jacket and hat in the car. Together, they crossed toward the heavy farmhouse door, the stars burning fiercely in the clear sky above them. And after nearly two decades, Osian allowed himself to truly hope. Because even though the man he loved was looking at him like a stranger, the gravity between them was still there. Drum was drawn to him. Osian could feel the attraction humming in the air.

“You don’t lock your door?” Drum asked as Osian opened it.

“I’m in the middle of nowhere.” But he should have made it look as though he’d locked it.

Drum gasped softly as he stepped over the threshold. “This is lovely.”

Not when Osian wasn’t around. But right now, the house felt warm and alive.

“You have so many plants.”

“I love them.” Do you remember? Osian moved to the kitchen to pour two glasses of water.

“Thank you.”

Osian carried the drinks over and sat on the plush sofa, desperately hoping Drum would join him. He did, settling onto the other end.

“How are you liking the job, then?” Osian asked, handing over a glass.

“It’s okay.”

Osian chuckled. “A ringing endorsement.”

“I hadn’t realised how much…peopling…it entails. I really am trying to like it.”

“Where did you live before?”

“After I landed in the Peak District?” Drum chuckled. “I was moved around a lot in foster care, then sent to a children’s home. From that one to another, then another. When I was eighteen, I went to live in London. I stayed there until a few months ago.”

“You used to like the countryside.”

“I still do. It’s beautiful around here.”

“What does your job entail?”

“I drive to one end of a village, walk through on one side of the street, then walk back on the other. I speak to everyone I see. Not everyone speaks to me. I poke my head into every shop, every pub, and the single post office I’ve found. I check up on vulnerable folks, and I move on. I took the bike out instead today. I guide lost tourists and point them towards what they want to see. Then I had a call to tell me to come to The Whistler because people were complaining about the music.”