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Their fight had been ugly, and she regretted how it’d ended.

Oh, she was still furious he hadn’t instinctively taken her side, but maybe– just maybe– she should’ve given him space instead of storming out.

She definitely shouldn’t have told him she didn’t need him.

Her lashing out had stopped them talking and blown up their chances to work their way back to each other.

Saying she didn’t need him had been a lie, cruel and unnecessary.

Shame, fierce and suffocating washed over her, robbing her of the air she’d found when talking to Troyden.

She’d been in the wrong, caught up with wanting– needing – him to choose her without hesitation. But he wasn’t that guy. Measured. Thoughtful. Slow to leap. She’d asked for too much, too soon.

But as Troyden had just shown her, people weren’t black and white. They were made up of a million shades ranging from off-white to pewter grey to hell black. She’d assumed Troyden would be like her father and mother and would bail, but he’d proved her wrong.

Maybe this was the wake-up call she needed to move on, to come to terms with her past. People blithely said that you couldn’t lug the baggage from your past behind you forever, and that, at some point, you had to discard what weighed you down.

So much easier said than done though. For most of her life, her core belief had been that she was destined to come in second, that she wasn’t worthy of being someone’s first choice.

Tara and Vince had let her down and disappointed her, but she couldn’t use their actions to reinforce her belief that she was less than, not worthy of being a priority.

The people who were supposed to love her the most had disappointed her the most. Her father had been weak and vain, feckless and irresponsible.

Sleeping with a much younger girl, a teenager, had been a crappy thing to do, and she wondered whether he’d regarded her mum, religious and hesitant, as a challenge.

She suspected that after he’d got what he wanted from her, his interest in her had waned.

Her mum had let her down in big ways and small.

But for the first time, she considered how hard it must’ve been for her mum to find herself pregnant and alone at eighteen.

Was becoming a foster mum, giving her time to kids who needed her help, her way to atone for what she’d done, for going against the will of her god?

Maybe? She couldn’t know for sure, but it sounded right.

And when she’d felt that Eden was old enough and strong enough, she’d decided she could finally devote her life, as she’d probably always wanted to do, to the god she’d disappointed.

Her mum hadn’t been able to love her, but that was her mum’s failing, not hers.

And in a crisis, Jed hadn’t been able to put her first. They’d probably never be able to recapture what they had, but she didn’t need to forgo her relationship with Troyden, her wonderful friendship with Mick and Justin, and Alistair’s rare smiles, because she and Jed hadn’t worked out.

She needed this family, these people. She was not going to keep running, keep chasing affirmation and acceptance from other people.

It was time to plant her feet, to stick and stay.

Sure, seeing Jed was going to be hell, but all pain eventually faded.

Love couldn’t be forced, and it meant nothing when it was demanded.

Love wasn’t a bargaining chip or a source of affirmation. It was something you offered.

Sometimes you were lucky enough to get it back, but it didn’t stop existing, or meant less, just because it wasn’t reciprocated.

She lifted her head when she felt tiny paws kneading her shoulder and smiled at Bizzy’s cute orange face. Gemma, eyes wise beyond her years, sat beside her on the step.

‘You’re crying,’ she observed.

Eden swiped at her face. ‘I guess I am.’

Gemma considered this, an old soul in a six-year-old’s body. ‘I think you need my mum.’

Eden shook her head. ‘Your mum’s busy, sweetheart.’

Gemma wasn’t buying it. She stood, held out her hand, and Eden took it, following the little girl to Mick’s cottage.

The moment she stepped into the kitchen and Mick saw her face, she tipped her head, smiling softly. ‘Oh, honey. What do you need? Food, coffee or a hug?’ She paused. ‘A day of K-dramas?’

Warmth flooded Eden’s chest. This was love. And acceptance.

She managed a watery smile. ‘I’ll take the first three, and since I have a charity polo match to arrange, a rain check on number four?’ And as Mick hugged her, Eden finally understood the old saying that having one loyal friend was better than ten thousand crappy relatives.

* * *

‘Ow, shit, ow! ’

Jed touched his nose, spotted blood on his orange glove and glared at Henry sporting an arrogant smirk. He was enjoying this a bit too much, the dick .

‘I thought we said we were going to avoid head punches,’ he growled, dabbing his nose and smearing blood across his glove.

Damn, was it broken? That would just top another shitty day in a shitty week.

Feeling like he was about to burst out of his skin, he’d needed to work off his frustration, so he’d called Henry and asked him whether he was up for some sparring.

Henry had quickly agreed. They’d exchanged minimal conversation while they wrapped their hands and pulled on their gloves, and were soon exchanging body blows that were both painful and pressure-releasing.

Cleansing.

‘You dropped your guard, and I couldn’t resist,’ Henry replied, dancing on his toes. ‘And yours is such a punchable face.’

‘Prick,’ he muttered.

‘Wanker,’ Henry replied with no heat. Jed gripped the edge of the Velcro strap on his glove, ripped it and pulled. He’d taken more than enough body blows from Henry’s far-too-quick fists and now his nose was on fire.

He was exhausted, and after a few hard days in the saddle– somehow the Castle Kings were still in the mix for the British Polo Championships– he should be sitting in a sauna, having a massage, catching up on sleep. Sleep? Hah, funny, he’d had so little of that lately.

Eden’s lovely face appeared on his mental big screen and he swallowed at the memory of her hurt eyes and pale skin, her freckles and bright splotches on her white face.

She was back at Elmsleigh House, but he hadn’t seen her since they’d met in the village, and he felt like he’d lost a limb.

He would roll over in the morning, eager toopen his eyes to see her hair on his pillow, her face buried into his neck, but was met with emptiness.

He continuously checked his phone to see if she’d called, consistently disappointed when he didn’t see her name on the screen.

He missed her. Every inch of him, inside and out, longed for her. Love had to be deserved, and what could he give her? By not calling him, she was reinforcing her statement that she didn’t need him. And if she didn’t need him, how could she love him?

He flung his gloves onto the floor of the ring and took the water bottle Henry offered him.

He’d pulled on a shirt, but Jed was still bare-chested.

He dropped to the padded floor, feeling utterly wiped, and lay back, his knees bent as he tipped water down his throat.

Scared that Henry might see too much in his eyes, he placed his forearm over his head, hiding the top half of his face from his newest, but also oldest, brother.

‘The arrangements for the charity match all seem to be going well,’ Henry said from somewhere next to him.

He moved his arm and glanced at Henry out of the corner of his eye.

He sat a little way from Jed, arms resting casually on bent knees, his water bottle dangling from his hand.

‘Eden is doing a fabulous job. She managed to secure Neon Alibi to play at the after-party next weekend. For free.’

Even he, someone who didn’t follow pop culture, had heard of the up-and-coming band. The demand for tickets had skyrocketed and they were on track to triple the profit they’d originally aimed for. She was, simply, so damn good at her job. Simply amazing.

‘I heard that the Bancrofts are being investigated,’ Henry said.

Shit, yeah. Jed released a low groan, thinking about his and Troyden’s very awkward conversation with Tara and Vince. It was a misunderstanding; Eden got it wrong; they would never steal money. The police would come to that conclusion.

Neither he nor Troyden were convinced but had agreed to give them the benefit of the doubt– they owed them that much– until the police investigation was concluded.

Tara especially had been viciously scathing about Eden and ignored both his and Troyden’s request not to bad-mouth her.

Their meeting left him with a sour taste in his mouth and the knowledge that, no matter what happened in the future, their relationship would never be the same.

‘Do you believe Eden’s or the Bancrofts’ version?’ Henry asked. Eden ’s. His reaction was quick and instinctive, and Jed wished he’d been as quick to respond the night of their fight. Shit, he was so screwed.

Needing to talk and think about anything but Eden, he changed the subject. ‘When I borrowed your car, you said it was the only asset worth anything,’ he said. ‘What did you mean? How much financial trouble are you in?’

‘I’m drowning.’ Henry raised his hand, his thumb and index finger an inch apart. ‘I’m this close to losing it.’

Jed frowned at him. ‘Seriously?’

‘The Duke borrowed money from banks, loans I am now responsible for. I never fucking wanted the title or assets, but I’m the one left to deal with it.’

‘You sound… pissed off.’

Henry nodded. ‘I am. Because… what did you call him?… the Fucking Duke died, and now I’m the one who’ll lose four hundred years of history.’ Henry rubbed his face. ‘You have no idea how lucky you are, Jed.’

‘How so?’ he asked, disconcerted by Henry’s expression.

‘He didn’t acknowledge you, but you have no idea what a blessing it was not to have that prick in your life.

’ Henry started to tick points off his fingers.

‘You have a family, a father and siblings, people standing in your corner. I have millions in debt, a house I hate and a mother who’s more worried about money than about me. ’

‘If you are so broke, then why did you spend so much sponsoring the charity polo match?’ Jed asked, confused.

Henry released a low laugh that held no amusement.

‘Because I want the Bythesea name to be associated with something good before we become another aristocratic family to lose everything and before this place gets turned into a hotel, or a hospice or a country club. Because I wanted a way to spend time with you.’

Jed shuffled on the mat, unexpectedly moved. Henry was anything but the entitled wanker he’d believed him to be. And maybe he’d turned out to be a decent guy despite having a tosser for a father.

‘Is there anything you can do to save the Hall?’ He knew better than to offer money. He knew Henry wouldn’t take any.

‘My last-ditch effort is to convert the stables into accommodation units. There’s a shortage of affordable, long-term housing in the area,’ Henry said.

Jed sat up and raised his eyebrows. That was true, houses and flats were hens’-teeth scarce around here.

‘Actually, Eden gave me the idea when she popped around for dinner last night. She’s thinking about staying in the area, but wants to get her own place.

She adores Troyden, but she’s too independent to live off her uncle.

We chatted about her renting a suite of rooms at Bythesea Hall. ’

Jed stared at him, not sure what part of his statement to focus on. The fact that she was staying, that she’d had dinner with his brother last night, or that she was looking to permanently move off the estate?

‘What the hell was she doing having dinner with you? And there’s no way in hell she’s going to move into your place!’

Henry had the gall to smile at him. ‘And how do you plan on stopping her, Jed? Aren’t you two done?’

He didn’t know what they were. ‘She said that?’

Henry raised an eyebrow and Jed groaned. ‘We had a fight and haven’t spoken since,’ he admitted.

‘Yeah, that’s a good way of finding a solution,’ Henry sarcastically stated. ‘Well done.’

‘God, you’re annoying,’ Jed informed him. He picked the label off his water bottle and stared at the laces on his trainer. A bead of sweat rolled down his side, another down his neck. ‘Did she say anything else?’

Henry lifted the bottle to his lips, but Jed suspected he was only drinking to give him some time to work out how to answer. ‘No.’

A door slammed somewhere behind them, and they heard the grunts of a guy lifting weights in the far corner, earphones in, sweat rolling down his face.

He felt his brother’s– he still couldn’t bring himself to say the word aloud– eyes on his face and met them.

Henry’s expression was softer than he expected. ‘Talking like this is weird, right?’

It was.

‘So, was pummelling each other a once-off thing?’

He knew what he was asking. This was a do-or-die moment, to trust or not, to accept Henry into his life and world, or to lose him forever. Because Henry wouldn’t beg for a second chance. He knew that because neither would he.

Jed, feeling horribly off guard, shifted on the mat, his fingers pushing into the vinyl as he tried to ground himself.

He wasn’t used to this, bonding with someone who’d been little more than a name and an uncomfortable, just-out-of-reach shadow until recently.

It felt unnatural, like wearing someone else’s trainers.

But at the same time, there was an odd comfort in it and a strange sense of relief that Henry, his parentage and his connection to the Bythesea family, was something he could stop worrying about.

Things that were left to grow in the dark became mouldy and disfigured.

He was glad they had brought their relationship into the light.

Henry let out a low chuckle, and his next words suggested he was on the same wavelength.

It was a strange sensation, this tentative connection.

Like walking on thin ice but feeling, for the first time, that it might just hold.

‘It’s odd, isn’t it? Us sitting here, trying to talk.

I spent my whole life thinking of you as…

I don’t know, some abstract idea. And now… ’ He shook his head.

‘Now we’re real, and we don’t know how the fuck to handle it.’

‘Succinctly said.’ His brother scratched his cheek, the flicker of a smile on his lips. ‘God, you look as awkward as I feel. So… where do we go from here?’

Jed pulled in a deep breath and took a leap of faith. ‘Let’s take a shower and have that beer.’