Page 22 of The Other Side

“You sound bored.”

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing to be bored. Though I probably shouldn’t be admitting that. Being a PCSO is a highly rewarding role for anyone passionate about public service and neighbourhood engagement.” Drum winced. “Shit, now I’ve made myself sound like a pompous arse. In my defence, that came straight out of my job description.”

Osian laughed, a genuine, relieved sound. “You care. You always cared. You cared deeply about Captain.” And me.

Drum traced the rim of his glass, sighing. “A dog I don’t even remember. Honestly, the only reason I don’t think you’re a lunatic or worse and out to cause me trouble is that my amnesia regarding the first ten years of my life isn’t public record. You know my life restarted at ten. And you know my name. And we’re wearing the same bracelets. So… I want to trust you. I want to know what happened to me.”

“Okay.”

His blue eyes fixed on Osian’s face. But before Osian could speak, a phone rang out.

“Shit. My work phone. Damn.” Drum pushed to his feet and walked away to answer it.

Osian watched him pace, one hand shoved into his trouser pocket, the other pressed to his ear, tension gathering in his shoulders. Whatever he was hearing clearly wasn’t good news.

A few moments later Drum returned, looking both annoyed and apologetic. “I have to leave. Someone’s been messing around with a flock of sheep. Hopefully in a way I don’t find too appalling. But they’re on the road so I need to go before they cause an accident.” He hesitated, then added, “Can I have your number?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

Drum stared at him. “Now I know you’re definitely weird.” A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you again though, right? Because I do want answers.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I live at Pine Cottage on the outskirts of Hayden.”

Osian nodded.

“Don’t bother looking for a pine tree. There isn’t one. And I keep my door locked.” Drum sounded wary. “I’m not working until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay.”

Osian stood outside the cottage and watched Drum drive away, headlights sweeping across the road before disappearing into the darkness. Relief and disappointment tangled together in his chest. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d handled that badly. Probably very badly. Telling Drum the truth outright had never been a real option. How could he have walked up to Drum and said ‘Hello, I’m from Faeryland. I knew you as a child and we were friends before your memories were stolen and you were brought to this side, and I’ve never been able to forget you. I didn’t want to forget you and maybe that had something to do with the blood-oath we swore, or maybe it didn’t.’ Yeah, that would have gone over brilliantly. Drum would have laughed in his face, or worse, looked at him with pity.

So he would have to do this slowly. Let Drum get to know him first. Allow trust to grow. Let the memories come, if they ever did. Please let them! Except doing it slowly wasn’t going to work. Of course Drum would press him and Osian would have to tell him.

He groaned softly and tipped his head back against the sofa.

Gods, he’s beautiful. The child Osian remembered was still there in the shape and colour of his eyes and the tilt of his smile, but time had turned him into a striking man. Dark hair, long lashes, sharp cheekbones. Tall and lean, with a quiet strength that showed in the way he moved.

Twenty years.

Twenty lost years.

What kind of life had Drum lived on this side? Foster care and children’s homes didn’t sound good. And why was he working in a job that clearly wasn’t right for him? Had he ever been happy? Had he ever felt that something was missing, even if he couldn’t name it?

And the worst questions of all pressed against Osian’s ribs like a knife. What happens if he can’t remember me? And even if he does, what happens to us?

Osian stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t remain in this world indefinitely. Crossing between realms was difficult, dangerous, and dependent on a gate that was not his to use, nor Belem’s for that matter. Then there was the cost of using it. He shuddered.

Could Drum return with him to Faeryland? If he did, Osian wasn’t sure of the consequences. Belem would be angry. Drum’s parents would be too. How would the Queen react? After all this time spent on this side, Drum was far more mortal than Faery. He already looked older than Osian. Did he have any powers at all? Reality hit him with fresh force. He curled up on the narrow sofa and pressed his fists against his eyes.

“Belem, you bastard,” he whispered.

Ten years ago, Belem had granted him access to the gate, to this property, allowed him to search for the boy he’d lost, and never once warned him that finding Drum might be the cruellest part of all. The thought hollowed him out. Was this the price Belem had intended all along? That once Osian had found Drum, he’d discover that the life they’d once shared was unreachable? That Osian could stand within arm’s length of him and still be separated by an entire world? Osian pressed his forehead against the arm of the couch, and a low, aching howl escaped before he could stop it.

He should have seen through Belem from the start. But he’d been young, desperate, finally just about old enough to cross to this side and not able to see any downside of finding Drum again, apart from the price he had to pay. He should never have agreed to that contract. He’d known there was a catch. That was the way Fae operated and he’d still said yes. Osian pushed himself up and stared out of the window. He wasn’t going to let Drum go. Now he’d found him, he wasn’t walking away. He’d find a way for them to be together.

For the first time since stepping through the gate, ten years ago, he understood exactly how dangerous that decision might be.