Page 9 of No Kind Words (Calston Cove #3)

The morning is its usual manic self.

The rush of coffees, pastries, and breakfast rolls to take away is followed by all the tables becoming full as friends meet up after the school run.

Their chatter fills the room.

The laughter, clattering of cutlery on china plates, and clinking of cups resting back on saucers are usually settling to me.

But not today.

No.

Today I met the woman who arrived with Jethro.

I want to hate her.

I want to tell her he was mine first, that I should be the one who knows how he takes his coffee or what his favourite breakfast roll is.

But I can’t because she’s kind without the haughty behaviour some city people have.

I serve her with a cheery smile and watch her almost bounce out of the room, saying hello to anyone who greets her.

In the week he’s been back, Jethro seems to have met all his old friends.

Drew is even doing the work in the little cottage and the vet practice.

Yet he hasn’t been here.

Does he even know I’m here? Has he mentioned my name to any of the friends he’s spoken to, the ones who have been here the whole bloody time?

Ivan must have got it wrong when he said Jethro and Maeve—yes, she introduced herself—aren’t together.

It’s the only reason I can think of that has stopped him from coming to see me.

It’s not as if I can ask anyone.

No one knew about our relationship.

Although now, after all this time, I can’t think of any reason we didn’t share what we had going with our friends.

In fact, I doubt old man Palmer would’ve got away with the things he did had they known. Everyone believed the easy, glib way he lied about Jethro’s disappearance, saying he’d gone to university early to get ready.

When the morning rush dies down, I leave the front café and head back to the kitchen, taking the last few hours to prep for tomorrow.

It’s easy to lose track of time making pastries, bread, and all the other items I’ll need.

The business has been more of a success than I could ever have imagined or hoped for.

The loan from the bank has been paid off, and soon I’ll own the building outright.

It has almost made the last fifteen years of being on my own bearable.

I can hardly count the six months of being with Jamie. I try not to think of him at all. He did as I asked and left me alone.

But I can’t get the memory of Jethro and the way he gave himself to me, the way I loved him, out of my mind.

No one came close to him.

It’s stupid hanging on to a past that I’ve probably distorted over the years, even more so now that I know it meant nothing to him.

That I meant nothing to him.

A distant past he obviously doesn’t hold much credence to.

At eighteen and about to start a new chapter in his life, he simply moved on. I gave him the experience to be able to move on, to have other lovers and find someone to settle down with.

Finally, I’m finished for the day and can leave.

The afternoon staff are more than capable of handling the customers’ orders until we close at six.

I pull on my coat, and as I wrap my scarf around my neck, someone calls my name.

“Benny, have you a moment?”

Merrick, one of my closest friends and Drew’s partner, approaches me.

“Don’t worry.

I won’t keep you.

You’ve been here long enough.

You know we’re having a New Year party.

Of course you do.

You’ve got an invitation.

Sorry, my head is all over the place.

Willow suddenly has the attitude of a teenager and is having tantrums at every opportunity.

It seems that Drew is the only one who can placate her, and he’s over at the new vet’s place all the time.

Anyway, to get to the point, can you do the food? Nothing too complicated, just your usual amazing stuff.”

As he mentions the vet, meaning Jethro, I stop listening.

All I can think of is Drew getting to spend all his time with a man who should be with me.

Fuck, I’m doing it again, claiming him again.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Merrick frowns. “The food, Benny, for the party, can you do it?”

“Oh, oh yes, sure. No problem. Let me know what you want, and I’ll sort it for you.”

“All done. Here you are.”

Merrick pulls out an envelope and passes it to me, but before he lets go, he cocks his head to the side. “Are you okay? You’re very distracted. If it’s a problem, I can hand this over to Waitrose.”

“No, sorry. I’m fine. It’s been a busy day.”

I want to go before my friend’s keen mind latches on to something. “Everyone wanted to get out of the cold and ended up here.”

“Have you seen your old friend, the vet is it? Jethro? I’m not sure that’s his name. Drew said you two were close before he went to Edinburgh.”

They’ve discussed us. Drew and Merrick know; they must. I try to form a coherent sentence but fail miserably. “I, um… I, no, no, I haven’t. It’s been a long time, and he’s here with the redhead, Maeve, I think.”

God, someone shut me up and push me out the door.

“It is Maeve, and they’re not together together. She’s his vet nurse or tech, whatever they call them. They’ve been friends for years. I’m pretty sure Drew said Jethro is gay.”

Where’s a tornado or a lightning strike when you need one? I so don’t want to have this conversation. I shuffle uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but here. “I’m sorry, Merrick. I’ve got things to do at home. I’ll get this sorted for you.”

Merrick looks surprised at my abrupt end to the conversation but smiles. “Okay, thanks, Benny. See you soon.”

I’m already on the move to the door and out into the bitter cold.

The wind whips around my head, and I duck down into the scarf in an effort to keep my ears warm.

The winters on the south coast of Devon are wet and wild.

I should be used to them by now, but the cold seeps into my bones, urging me to pick up my pace and get home.

With the door firmly shut behind me, I strip out of my coat and kick off my shoes, feeling more tired than normal.

My shower will have to wait.

I take off my flour-covered clothes and climb under the thick quilt.

My eyelids close heavily, and I sleep.

I dream of chasing Jethro as he moves farther and farther through the fields behind the barns and away from the farm.

All I can do is call his name.

He stops, and when he turns around, his face is covered in cuts and bruises.

He speaks, but I can’t hear him.

He shakes his head, telling me no, not to go after him. I shoot up in bed, gasping for breath, my hand on my chest.

As I slump back down, my head hits the soft pillow.

The usual sadness these nightmares cause is replaced with something new—anger.

I’m angry, angry that he’s back in my thoughts, angry that he’s talking to his old friends. And most of all, I’m angry that he hasn’t been to see me.

I’m angry that I couldn’t keep Jamie. He quickly dumped me for his ex. I’m a forty-year-old man who’s acting like a teenager.

I’ve been hanging on to something that isn’t real anymore. My whole life has been wasted on a dream my lover would come back for me. Not anymore. I’m done.