Page 43 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

James

This evening is definitely not going the way I imagined.

The original plan was to spend as much time with Ruby as possible, seeing that each of us was only on duty for an hour, after which we’d be free to do whatever we liked. I wanted to dance with her, party with her, and kiss her as often as she would let me in front of everyone else.

But then Lydia suddenly burst back into Boyd Hall. At first we thought her conversation with Sutton had gone badly, or that he’d said something to hurt her. When we finally got her to tell us what had actually happened, I immediately went in search of Cyril.

Neither Alistair nor Keshav had any idea where he could be, and it took me ages to find Wren, who could at least tell me that Cyril had driven home in a hurry some time earlier. So then I called a taxi and asked Percy to drive Lydia, Ember, and Ruby home.

Now I’m standing outside Cyril’s front door, pressing the bell again and again. I can hear it clanging from out here, the sound echoing through the house. I’m sure Cyril’s at home—his car is in the driveway and I saw a light on upstairs in his room as the taxi approached.

I ring again. And again. Just as I’m lifting my finger the third time, the door flies open.

And a waft of booze hits me. It’s been no more than an hour since his encounter with Lydia, but Cyril’s swaying on his feet. His dark hair is all over the place and the top buttons of his shirt are undone.

“What a surprise. Lydia’s sent her watchdog round,” he slurs.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

Cyril flings the door wider, turns, and walks up the stairs without looking at me. The whole house is dark. Looks like his folks aren’t back yet.

I follow him up to the first floor and straight into his room. The window is open, but the clouds of smoke and alcohol fumes hang heavily in the air.

Cyril sits on the windowsill. I can see a cigarette stub glowing in an ashtray. He picks it up, takes a deep drag, and leans back.

“So,” he begins, still not looking at me. “You’re here to buy my silence?”

“I’m here because I’m worried about you,” I reply, walking over to the window.

Cyril turns and looks at me, eyebrows raised.

“And because Lydia’s worried too.”

He snorts with laughter and takes another puff. Next to the ashtray is a bottle of whisky that’s less than half full. Can he really have drunk all that in the last hour?

I’d never have imagined seeing Cyril in this state.

“I’m sorry, mate.”

Cyril stubs out the cigarette. Then he grabs the bottle, lifts it to his lips, and tips back his head.

“I don’t get it,” he mutters after a while, through clenched teeth. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets the bottle down with a clatter. “I just don’t understand why.”

I don’t know how to answer that. Cyril’s been hoping for years that he and Lydia might get together. Learning that all his waiting was in vain must be really doing him over.

“I’d have done anything for her. Anything,” he says, shaking his head. That seems to make him dizzy, because he lurches a little to one side. I grab his arm and pull him down from the windowsill.

“I know,” I say.

Suddenly, Cyril grabs me with both hands. “You have no idea how it feels, James. To hope for something for years and to see it break in front of your eyes.”

His face is twisted with pain. He’s swaying, can’t stand up straight.

Without another thought, I take his arms and steer him toward the bed.

I give him a gentle nudge so that he has to sit down.

Once I’m sure he’s not going to wobble over again, I let go of him and go to shut the window. Then I pull the heavy gray curtains.

I turn to Cyril. He’s leaning forward, his face buried in his hands. The sight of him makes me sad. This whole situation is fucked up, and I’m sorry for Cy, but I have to look out for Lydia first. She’s the one with everything to lose if her relationship with Sutton comes out.

I sit next to Cyril on the bed. “You mustn’t tell a soul, Cy,” I insist.

He just shakes his head. Then he lowers his hands and turns to face me. “Do you think I’d really ever do anything to hurt Lydia?”

I look back at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

He nods.

Then he stares in silence at his hands for a while. “I always thought that what we had was as important to her as it is to me.”

“It’s not anything you did. That part is obvious.”

He just growls and then falls back onto the bed with a groan.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” I say after a moment.

Cyril doesn’t reply, so I stand up and walk down to the kitchen. When I get back, he’s sitting up in bed again. I’ve brought a bucket up with me too in case he feels sick overnight, and Cyril eyes it mockingly.

“Here,” I say, holding out the glass. He takes it and forces himself to have a couple of sips. After that, he puts it down on the bedside table.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I ask.

“No, thanks, bro. I think I need some time alone.”

“OK, then I’ll be going.” I gesture over my shoulder with my thumb.

Cyril gives a curt nod. Then he does something he hasn’t done for at least ten years—he gets up and wraps his arms around me. I’m taken by surprise, but then I clap him on the back. He’s leaning half his weight against me and I’m doing my best to hold him up.

“You’ll get through this,” I say quietly.

Cyril pulls away from me and won’t meet my eye. It’s clear he doesn’t believe a word of it.

Ruby

It’s half past one when James finally gets home.

He knocks quietly on Lydia’s door and opens it a crack.

When he sees me sitting on the bed, beside his sleeping sister, the smile that crosses his lips makes my stomach tingle.

Cautiously, I stand up, trying not to make a sound.

James’s smile broadens as he sees that I’ve changed out of the dress into one of his T-shirts and a pair of Lydia’s leggings.

It’s only once I’ve shut the door gently behind me that I dare to say anything. Lydia was so distraught when we got here—I really don’t want to wake her.

“You’re here,” he greets me softly.

I nod. “I was going to go home with Ember, but Lydia was so upset that I didn’t want to leave her on her own. So I told Mum I’d stay over with you. Did you find Cyril?”

James’s smile fades. “He was pretty out of it. I don’t know if he’ll remember a thing in the morning.”

That’s not particularly reassuring.

“I trust Cy,” James adds. “You can rely on him in this kind of stuff.”

I eye him skeptically, but in the end I nod. “OK.”

James glances down the landing and then looks back to me. I reach for his hand and tug gently, and we walk together to his room.

When we get there, I sit down on his king-size bed.

“Is Lydia doing better now?” James asks, slipping off his jacket and loosening his tie. Then he drops down beside me.

“Yeah,” I reply pensively. “I think so. Mr. Sutton called her and they talked a while.”

James doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He exhales audibly and rubs his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

He grunts. “I don’t want Lydia to get into trouble. I just don’t know how to stop all the secrets collapsing in on themselves like a house of cards.”

“They won’t,” I say softly, leaning forward to touch him. I feel a need to comfort him when he looks like this, and I wish I could do more than just stroke his cheek.

James looks at me, his eyes dark. “I’d do anything for the people I love.”

I stroke my fingers further down his throat. Hold the nape of his neck in my hand, rub my thumb along his hairline. “I know.”

“That includes you, Ruby.”

I pause in mid-gesture and gulp hard. Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow down.

“I love you,” he whispers.

There’s so much emotion in his voice, along with so much pain that, for a brief moment, I don’t think I can breathe.

But the next instant, my body reacts to his admission as if by itself. I lean forward until I’m kneeling on the bed and level with James. Tenderly, I lower my mouth to his and kiss him, just fleetingly.

“I love you too, James,” I whisper back, resting my brow against his.

I hear James breathe in. “Really?”

I nod and kiss him again.

It’s only meant to be another brief kiss—but then James puts a hand on the back of my head and what began gently is soon more.

I lose my balance and fall sideways, onto the soft down.

James doesn’t break off the kiss, even for a second.

All the words I still want to say vanish from my tongue as James parts my lips with his. I sigh gently.

This time, when he pulls away, we’re both breathless.

“Thank you for being here for us both today,” he murmurs.

We’re lying on our sides, our faces turned to each other. James gently strokes upward from my waist, lays his hand on my rib cage. He’s drawing little patterns on my skin.

I still remember exactly what it felt like the first time he touched me—it felt like his fingers were burning through my clothes, right onto my skin. And it’s the same now, as his hand travels down again, coming to rest on my thigh.

“Thank you for letting me be there for you,” I whisper, stroking a strand of his red-blond hair off his forehead. I could run my hands through his hair forever; I love the way it feels under my fingers.

We lie there in silence. The only thing I can hear is our even breathing.

We can’t let each other go. I have to touch James the whole time, as if I’m making it clear to myself that this, here and now, is reality.

That we really have found our way back to each other, and that this new, ever-growing trust exists between us.

I fight against it, but eventually, my eyelids are so heavy that I can barely hold them open. James is there when I fall asleep, one hand in mine, the other nestled gently in my hair.