Page 6 of No Kind Words (Calston Cove #3)

The art of tuning out customers’ conversations is something that takes time. My coffee shop slash bakery is a focal point for locals to meet and catch up.

I’ve heard plans to break up before the poor soul concerned did. I watched people fall in love and have seen heartbreak.

I heard joy over pregnancies and wedding proposals, and worry over health scares. The ability to not listen has taken me years to perfect.

Saturday mornings are always hectic, with queues outside the door waiting for a table or takeaway coffees and pastries.

Today is no different. Even the cold weather hasn’t kept anyone away. I lift my hand in greeting to Ivan and Brodie, who’s carrying Milo.

They walk to the only table available, which is closest to the counter. It takes them a couple of minutes to get settled. Coats and hats come off, and Milo sits on Ivan’s lap while Brodie comes up to the counter to order.

I hold up my hand. “Gimme a couple of minutes, and I’ll get it out to you.”

With two plates of bacon and cheese omelettes and extra bacon on the side for Ivan, I walk to their table. Ivan’s words stop me in my tracks, and the plates wobble in my hands.

“I was so shocked to see him, and he looks so different from when he was in school.

He was quiet, studious, cute in a geeky sort of way.

Nothing like the sexy tattooed guy I met yesterday, and the woman with him is a surprise.

I always thought he was gay. Then Jethro disappeared. A matter of here one day and gone the next.”

Jethro? Jethro is back in town.

Fuck, he didn’t come home for the funerals of either of his parents.

Why now? What the fuck is going to happen when I see him? Especially if he’s not the beautiful, shy but adventurous young man I knew and wanted to share my life with fifteen years ago.

Brodie’s voice brings me back to the here and now.

I give them an apologetic smile and place the plates in front of them.

“Here you go. Enjoy.”

I don’t give them time to reply and flee back to the kitchen with every intention of staying there for the rest of the day.

Too many thoughts, unanswered questions, and anger are whirring around in my head and coursing through my body.

As I sink into the chair at the small prep table, memories of the barn and the last time I saw him assault me.

The sheen of sweat that clung to his chest as he drew deep lungfuls of air, the blissed-out smile and half-closed eyes as he came down from his orgasm.

The smell of sex mingled with hay and warm sea air.

I can almost taste it on my tongue.

Before I can lick my lips to see if it’s real, the air turns to fear. And fury. Anger so palpable I want to shrink away from it.

The nightmares that followed me after he left always felt like this: it wasn’t me being threatened; it was Jethro, and I was always too far away to reach him, to get to him before the first lash of the belt hit him.

I’d wake up with his name on my tongue and bile in my throat.

My imagination has run wild with thoughts of what had happened.

The shouting, the vile, hateful words Palmer spewed at him as he attacked his own flesh and blood.

“Benny?”

Maddie puts her head around the kitchen door. “Are you okay? I’ve called you a couple of times.”

I straighten, push my hair from my clammy forehead, and get it together again. Thank god, she snapped me out of my haunting memories.

“Um, no. I’m not feeling too good. Can you let the customer know the kitchen is closed for fresh cooking?”

It’s two o’clock, so I’m not going to let too many people down, and we’ve got plenty of food we can heat up. There’s soup, and baked potatoes are warming in the oven. No one will starve.

The short walk to my house makes me nervous.

I could bump into him at any moment.

What would he do or say? And me, what am I going to say? Will we recognise each other? He’ll be thirty-three now, still prime age, whereas I’m forty and, in my mind, officially middle age.

The hair at my temples is going grey, as is my short beard.

After the shitshow that was Jamie, I joined Brodie’s running group, determined to get back in shape.

For six months, I had happily eaten whatever Jamie wanted, and I’d put on a few pounds.

I’m not certain I have enough to gain Jethro’s interest again.

The lust for a twenty-five-year-old is different.

I’m not looking for secretive hook-ups.

Hell, I’m not looking for hook-ups at all.

If only I’d got the life Jamie said he wanted too.

I haven’t changed my mind about that.

I still want the whole caboodle—marriage, kids, the cute house, and the golden retriever.

Would Jethro be into that? He’s still only thirty-three.

Way too young to want to be tied down with a husband and children.

And even if he does, who says he’d want that with me?

Why is he here? His old home has been sold.

The barns, almost derelict when we sneaked in them, are restored to function as working buildings again.

Does Ivan know? And he mentioned Jethro having a woman with him.

Has he realised he’s bisexual? The idea doesn’t seem real, not to the man I knew all that time ago.

All the talk of Jethro leaving without saying goodbye to any of his friends soon died down.

I’d wanted tell them what had happened.

I wanted to shout out that he was mine, that I loved him, that it was all down to his father, but it would’ve been pointless.

It seemed we’d kept our secret a little too well.

Missing him became a part of my life.

I was never brave enough to look him up.

My annoying inner voice chimes up.

Oh, be quiet.

I’ve called it self-preservation because I didn’t want my heart broken a second time when I found him married with children.

I’ve compared every man to him, which now, at my age, is just dumb.

I promised my mother I would move on, that living half a life is no life at all.

She would know.

She loved my father deeply, and they had a full and happy life, but when my dad passed, she followed only weeks later.

I have everything I want professionally.

I love my job, am proud of the café, but coming home to an empty house is getting old.

When Jethro disappeared, I tried to get over him and start over.

Accepted some dates when I was asked.

I’ve even thought of joining a dating site again, but after Jamie, that’s not my idea of fun.

But why is he here?

It’s not until the next day that I get my answer. The pub is buzzing with the usual crowd, minus the ones with children. As I grab my pint and walk to our usual corner, Trent and Merlin are the first to greet me.

Stacey stops in the middle of a story and looks at me. “Benny, you must remember Jethro Palmer, right? He just fell off the face of the earth years ago, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

I hear the croak in my voice, but it seems to go unnoticed by the others, and I take a long swallow of my beer.

“Well.”

She does a drum roll on the table. “He came back, flew down from Edinburgh. He’s totally different now and so bloody fit.”

“What was he doing back here? It’s not like he’s got any family anymore, and he didn’t show up when his parents died,”

Melanie says, but there’s no malice in her words. They all know what a wanker his dad was. It was only me who knew how violent he was, how he was with Jethro and the threats he made to me.

“Mr Gurney’s veterinary practice. It’s up for sale. He’s interested in buying it. He only came for the weekend, but I think he’s serious about it.”

“Did he come by himself?”

I know the answer, but Stacey may have more knowledge of who she was.

“No, he was with a woman, very nice, pretty lady. She’s just his friend, though. They work together. I think she’ll come with him if he does buy it. Honestly, I always thought he was gay.”

Melanie nods. “Me too. When are we going to get any bloody straight guys moving here?”

she grumbles light-heartedly.

I finish my pint and say goodnight, stating my early start as my reason. When all I can think about is that Jethro could finally be coming home.

I don’t know how to process that idea.