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‘Too fancy.’ Way fancier than anything Juniper could create.

She wandered around the tables, holding her breath when she felt her backpack snag on the displays.

‘I’ve got it!’ someone shouted, thank god, and then the pottery she’d disrupted was caught in a set of sturdy hands.

Aiden’s hands, of course. Clearly, he was an expert at fixing her messes, or at least wanted to be.

‘Thank you.’ Juniper put a hand on her chest in relief, but it seemed like proof that she just wasn’t made to fit into spaces filled with delicate works of art. She turned around to joke as much only to almost knock off a toast rack on the opposite side of her.

He reached around her to catch that, too, one hand keeping her backpack away from any more disasters. His chest was flush against hers, grin inches away. It was as close as she’d let him get to her since the night she’d fallen asleep on his couch. ‘How about I hold your backpack for you before the whole shop comes tumbling down?’ he questioned.

‘Whatever would I do without you?’ she crooned sarcastically, earning her a laugh.

‘I wonder the same thing all the time.’

She glared and squirmed away, though her entire stomach lurched with the need for him to be closer. God, she missed the smell of him, the taste of him, the way he moaned for her like nobody had before, and she him.

Maybe Tilly wasn’t the only one yearning for connection. Problem was, Juniper already knew what she was missing, and it left heraching.

Something hard prodded her thigh, and she raised an eyebrow, glad to find nobody was looking. ‘Happy to see me, Aiden?’

He dipped his head in amusement. ‘Get your mind out of that filthy gutter, Hodge. It’s a gift.’

Juniper groused, ‘Look, I don’t know what’s with you and all these little shows of affection, but it needs to stop, okay? You’re not my—’

‘Boyfriend, I know. The gift isn’t for you.’ Aiden produced a paper bag from his pocket with a flourish. From it, he produced a marbled, ceramic toadstool with an arched doorway so tiny that only a mouse could fit.

Or a hamster.

‘Cerberus’s cage needs a little upgrade, don’t you think?’ he said.

She glowered frostily. ‘Are you trying to out-parent me, Whittaker?’

‘No.’ His smirk said otherwise, so smug that his teeth poked through.

‘I don’t think he would like something this bright. His favourite colour is black,’ she lied. His favourite colour was probably red, same as his wheel, and same as the top of the toadstool. It was adorable, and she wanted it immediately. She just wasn’t sure why Aiden had been the one to buy it.

‘I guess we’ll have to let him decide for himself. Maybe he fancies a change.’

‘I thought you didn’t like Cerberus. Thought he was keeping you up all night.’ Juniper crossed her arms over her chest, an accusation serrating her words.

‘Which is why he needs a little place to rest his weary head.’ Aiden tucked the toadstool back into its gift bag, chin tilted with pride.

Great. He was now better than her at taking care of her hamster. She had officially reached rock bottom.

29

Aiden hovered outside the cobbled stone walls of the Potter’s Arms long after his classmates had headed in to celebrate their free evening in Stoke-on-Trent. The aptly themed pub spilled a buttery glow across the darkness as afternoon turned to evening. He should have been looking forward to heading in, getting warm, eating whatever delightfully rich, home-cooked meal he could smell emanating from within, but instead, he clenched his phone in tight fingers, frozen against an avalanche of anxiety.

He’d been waiting for it to rear its ugly head all day, that familiar jitter steadily growing since the train ride. It was a silly thing to trigger all this, a reply from his dad. One he’d expected, no less, after he’d reached out to ask for help on Juniper’s behalf.

If you need my help, come home and see me like a man would, Aiden,Jonathan had written.

It was probably fair. Aiden didn’t feel all that ‘manly’ when it came to his father, though Jonathan’s regular intimidation tactics and general unapproachable demeanour seemed a deliberate attempt to make sure that stayed true. Ifthatwas manliness, Aiden wanted no part in it.

But he did want to help Juniper, so he could pretend. He would have to. Just as soon as he could feel his fingers and toes again, as soon as the world wasn’t caving in on him.

He stepped out of the way of two patrons emerging from the pub, a huddled couple giggling about the paint on their cheeks. As well as food and drink, the wooden-framed chalkboard out front advertised pottery and painting sessions, something he might have loved to do with Juniper if it wasn’t already part of their daily routine.