by Anne Barwell
“Okay.” Although he spoke the word, Ethan didn’t sound like he believed it.
“I know you guys were close, but—”
“You don’t know me,” Ethan said. “Don’t presume to. I… just don’t.”
“Suit yourself.” Donovan hit the On button on the stereo and hiked up the volume. “Fuck, Ethan. I was only trying to help. But don’t worry, next time I won’t bother.”
“Works for me.” Ethan pulled his coat around him and crossed his arms again.
AFTER DINNER, Ethan made the excuse he was tired, then disappeared into his room. He had no wish to repeat the awkward silence that had accompanied their journey back to the inn, nor did he want to talk any further to Donovan on the subject.
Heidi had tried to make conversation, but while Donovan had at least made an effort, even his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor had sounded forced.
Although Ethan knew he’d acted like an arsehole, he also knew why he had. Not that it was an excuse or made the situation any better, but now he wasn’t sure how to fix it. When he and Tomas argued like this, they yelled at each other, called each other rude names, then made up. It was the way their friendship worked.
But he didn’t know Donovan well enough to know how he’d react to that, and besides…. Yeah, that. Tomas was a good friend, and they understood each other, but Ethan had never felt anything but friendship for him. Tomas wasn’t his type. They were too close in personality, would drive each other crazy, and weren’t attracted to each other physically.
Donovan.
Oh crap. Ethan flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. Yeah, he definitely felt some attraction toward Donovan. But at the same time, there was no way Ethan was getting into that now. It was not only too soon, but considering the way they’d argued, he’d slammed that door before either of them had a chance to step through it.
Had it been deliberate? He had no idea, but whatever the reason, subconscious or otherwise, he’d done it. And being at odds with Donovan while staying here was going to be awkward, to say the least.
Logically he knew he’d overreacted, but Donovan didn’t understand. Ethan didn’t want to believe his trip to Oakwood was for nothing. He’d been stupid thinking his presence would miraculously cause Tomas to walk through the front door of the inn as though he’d never been away. The longer he was missing, the more likely it was that his decomposing body would be found in some ditch somewhere.
Stop it!
Ethan pushed that visual out of his mind quickly. Tomas wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Oh God. What if Ethan had to go back to London and tell Kathleen that her brother was gone? He’d never been good at dealing with emotional stuff, and Kathleen seemed even more emotional than usual at the moment, thanks to her pregnancy. He still remembered the tears in her eyes when she’d realized she couldn’t come to Oakwood herself, and “tearful” was not an adjective he’d use to describe her.
No, he wasn’t going to think about that either.
The sound of a car pulling up outside in one of the visitor parking spots caught his attention. He strode over to the window, hope bubbling up that it might be Tomas. It only took a moment for it to be dashed.
A tall, well-built man climbed out of the nondescript white Ford Fiesta. Or at least Ethan thought it was a Ford Fiesta. Cars weren’t really his thing, despite having had to listen to Lawrence going on at length about his latest project. While Ethan hadn’t lied to Donovan when he’d said he’d picked up a bit about cars, he might have exaggerated a little. He could recognize a make and model if he knew someone who owned one, but that was about it.
The man grabbed a suitcase and a smaller bag out of the boot of the car, then slammed it shut. He glanced up at Ethan, frowning when he saw him. Ethan let the curtain he’d been holding fall and backed away from the window.
Damn it. Someone else he probably owed an apology. He’d be annoyed too if he’d thought someone was spying on him.
He sighed. A decent cup of tea before bed wouldn’t be a bad idea, and it was an excuse to venture downstairs and introduce himself.
By the time he reached the ground floor, the man he’d seen earlier was signing the guest book. Heidi looked up when Ethan approached, and smiled. “Ethan’s our other guest,” she said. “Ethan, this is Gary Smith. He’s from London and staying here a few days.”
Ethan took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Ethan Leavitt. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith. I saw you arrive earlier.”
Gary smiled and shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Leavitt. I noticed you at your window when I arrived. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Ethan felt like an idiot now. Gary seemed decent enough and not concerned about the earlier situation at all. Ethan must have misread it. He was obviously on edge far more than he’d realized. “I’m from London too. It’s nice to be somewhere with a slower pace of life.”
“Definitely,” Gary agreed. His brown eyes crinkled as he spoke. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, and though in his midthirties, there was a tiredness about him. “It was one of the reasons I chose Oakwood. I saw the photographs of the inn on the website and thought it looked perfect. Work’s been a bit stressful of late, and this is just what I need.”
“I know that feeling,” Ethan said. As much as he loved teaching, he was enjoying his short break away from his students. This wasn’t exactly a holiday, but it was still a chance to recharge his batteries. “I’m a teacher. It can get a little… intense at times.”
“You have my sympathy,” Gary said. “I’m not sure I’d have the patience for it. I work in a bank. Some of the customers are enough to try anyone’s patience.”
“Donovan will show you to your room and help get you settled.” Heidi interrupted their conversation when Donovan walked up to them. She cocked her head at him very slightly, and he nodded. “Is there anything we can get you? I’m about to boil the kettle if you’d like some tea or coffee.”
“Thanks for the offer, Miss Johnson,” Gary said, “but I’m tired after the drive. I think I’ll get an early night. You’ve been very welcoming.”
Donovan went to pick up Gary’s cases, but Gary grabbed the smaller bag.
“I don’t mind carrying both,” Donovan said.
“Thanks, but it’s fine. I figure I can at least take the smaller one.”
“Okay. Follow me and I’ll show you to your room.” Donovan led Gary up the stairs and they disappeared from view within a few moments, although Ethan could still hear them talking. Or rather Donovan talking, as Gary didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist.
“Be careful around that guy, Ethan,” Heidi said softly.
“Why?” Ethan asked. It seemed an odd thing to say, especially as she’d been so friendly toward him, but then he supposed she had to be.
“Nothing I can explain, but humor me and don’t get too friendly with him.” Heidi shrugged. “He checked out okay. That’s why Donovan was out back before. He was talking to Doug.”
“Doug wants to check out any new guests?” Ethan wondered what Doug had said about him.
“The police are running checks on anyone new in the area with those bank robbers still on the loose.” Heidi raised an eyebrow. “It’s a formality, Ethan, and it’s not as though he’s going to tell us anyone’s private details. There are laws about that kind of thing, you know.”
“Good,” Ethan said, perhaps a little too hastily.
“Unless you have something to hide?”
“If someone has something to hide, it’s usually not for a good reason,” Ethan said, uncertain how to take her question. Not being forthcoming about something didn’t mean he was hiding something, and besides he didn’t—
Heidi chuckled. “I’m just teasing you, Ethan. You’re fine, despite whatever is up between you and Donovan. But you’re both adults, right? You’ll sort it out.”
“Right,” Ethan said. “So what’s got you on edge with Gary?”
If she could
n’t be bothered to be subtle, then he wouldn’t resort to it either.
“I don’t know,” Heidi said. “As I said, it’s just a feeling.” She shrugged again. “Maybe it’s because he says he works in a bank, and I’m on edge with bankers after dealing with Jane.”
“That’s very understandable, and I know what you mean,” Ethan said. It made more sense than some undefined feeling she couldn’t explain. “I’ve met her too.”
Chapter 6
ETHAN SAT upright in bed with a jolt. He rubbed his eyes, groggily, trying to figure out what had woken him. He’d spent most of the last two days on his own, catching up on schoolwork on Thursday and taking a long walk on Friday, trying to figure out what the hell he was missing. There had to be something in that folder that he could use to find Tomas, but rereading it until his eyes itched had done nothing to make whatever was hiding appear.
Donovan had returned late from watching Patricia’s children on Thursday evening and then disappeared into his room off the garage again. By the time Ethan had come downstairs the following morning, Donovan had already left to do some work for Sally. Deciding not to dwell on his suspicion that Donovan might be deliberately avoiding him, Ethan retreated to his own room immediately after dinner that evening instead of giving Donovan the chance to prove he was. He’d been determined to distract himself with the rest of the book Donovan had got him from the library but had drifted off to sleep, despite his intention to finish the thing.
The inn was quiet, silent in the night air. He glanced out the window, surprised to see he’d forgotten to pull the curtains before he’d drifted off to sleep. Through the window, the old oak tree seemed to stare at him.
Someone yelled downstairs, the sound quickly followed by something suspiciously like a sob.
He climbed out of bed before he’d realized what he’d done, knocking the open book next to him to the floor. Donovan’s room was beneath Tomas’s, and Ethan was in the room next to that. Had something happened? Donovan was okay, wasn’t he?
Ethan crouched on the floor and pressed one ear to the floorboard, but couldn’t hear anything else. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.
Had the whole thing been a dream? He’d had dreams that lingered before, and truth be told, the little he remembered of this one wasn’t pleasant. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but he could still see Tomas in a shallow grave, his eyes open, his face half-covered in dirt. His friend wore an expression of terror, his features forever frozen that way.
If Ethan had been woken by someone else’s nightmare, he needed to thank them for pulling him out of his.
What he’d heard had been the result of a nightmare, right?
Ethan sighed. He couldn’t go back to bed now. Not only was he wide-awake, he should make sure Donovan was okay. At least he presumed it was Donovan. It had definitely been a man’s voice, and Gary’s room was across the hall. The sound had come from downstairs.
He grabbed his dressing gown and threw it over the top of his pajamas, glad he’d worn thick socks to bed. The bare floorboards were chilly, the heating turned down to a lower setting at night. He remembered getting ready for bed and reading a few pages of his book, but not much else until the nightmare. His bedside light was still on—he reached for it, then stopped. Better to leave it on until he got back to his room. One foot connected with his book. He picked it up off the floor and put it back on the bedside table, annoyed he’d now lost his place.
A low wattage light on the landing and another on the ground floor lit the stairs enough to descend them safely. Halfway down, he wondered if he should have grabbed a weapon of some sort, in case. What if it wasn’t a nightmare and he was about to walk into some kind of danger? Those bank robbers were still on the loose, after all.
Yeah, because he’d be a match for someone like that, weapon or not. Nevertheless, Ethan grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the front door and gripped it firmly in both hands.
He had zero experience in fighting, but whoever was in there didn’t need to know that.
Or… he could run back upstairs and grab his mobile in case the landline wasn’t working.
Because the first thing someone breaking in would do was cut the phone wires. He’d seen enough movies to know that.
God, he was an idiot. For someone who usually assessed a situation, then worked through different scenarios before coming to a decision, he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.
He saw a light from behind the partly open kitchen door and hesitated. If he called for help and it was nothing, he’d feel like an idiot. Well, more of an idiot, he silently amended.
“The kettle’s boiled if you want some tea,” Donovan called from the kitchen.
Ethan shoved the umbrella back into the stand. “That sounds lovely,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. After all, he wandered around clutching umbrellas every night. Right? And besides, he’d put it back, so it wasn’t as though he’d been caught in the act.
“It’s a bit late for a midnight stroll,” Donovan said. “It’s not supposed to rain either, so you probably don’t need the umbrella.”
“How did you—” Ethan pushed open the kitchen door and froze.
“Sit down, Ethan.” Donovan ran a hand through his mussed-up hair. He looked like shit, his eyes bloodshot. He wore pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt. In his hand, he held a mug, but he wasn’t drinking from it. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“How did you know I was out there?” Ethan kick-started his brain again and finished his earlier question. “Or about the umbrella?”
“I heard you, and I know the sound of that umbrella stand.” Donovan sounded exhausted, and his voice lacked its usual life. His hands shook. He tightened his grip on his cup. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t….” Donovan shook his head. “Never mind. If you want some tea, you’d better take it up with you once you’ve made it.”
“I thought I’d drink it down here,” Ethan said cautiously. He walked around Donovan carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked as he made his tea. The caddy was on the counter, almost as though it was waiting for him. “Actually that’s a stupid question. I can see you’re not. What happened?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, and I’m Mary Poppins.” Ethan normally would have laughed at Donovan’s puzzled expression, but he wasn’t in the mood for it. “The umbrella,” he elaborated.
“Right. Of course.” Donovan wiped all emotion from his expression and his words. He put his mug on the table, focusing on it as though he spoke to it instead of Ethan. “As I said, I’m sorry I woke you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Excuse me for giving a shit.” Ethan half turned to face Donovan, and the teaspoon he held slipped out of his hand to hit the floor with a clatter.
Donovan pushed back his chair, standing in one fluid motion. His hand went to his side as though reaching for something, but then he froze. “Make your tea and get out. Please.”
What the hell was wrong with him? Ethan abandoned his tea and edged closer. He’d never been one for leaving stuff alone when he knew he should. Like a dog with a bone, Tomas had said once, before reminding him that some bones needed to stay buried.
“I had a bad nightmare too,” he ventured.
“This isn’t a competition,” Donovan muttered without looking up. He sank back in his chair and put his head in his hands.
“I wasn’t suggesting it was.” Ethan decided to give it one more shot, but he wasn’t sure why he was bothering.
Yes, he did. Donovan was hurting. Any idiot could see that, and Ethan had never been one for walking away from a friend in pain.
Was that what they were? Friends? Despite how little time they’d spent together, Ethan enjoyed Donovan’s company. He had an easy manner about him and a way of looking at the world that had made Ethan forget about his own worries for a while.
“I want to be alone,” Donovan said. “I…. Forget it.”
Whoever this stranger was, it wasn’t the Donova
n who Ethan had thought he was beginning to get to know.
“Sometimes what you want is not what you need,” Ethan said. Fuck, Donovan was stubborn. “Look, I’m only trying to help. You woke me, so I came downstairs to make sure everything is okay.”
“Everything is okay.” Donovan glanced up this time, met Ethan’s gaze, and held it. He looked… haunted. Ethan hunted for another word to describe it but couldn’t find it. “And I need to be alone.”
“Right.” Ethan turned his back on Donovan, strode over to the bench, and collected his tea. This was a waste of time. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Actually, why was he bothering?
He yawned. “On second thought, talk to me in the morning. I need some sleep. Good night, Donovan.”
“GOOD NIGHT, Ethan,” Donovan said softly, watching him leave. “I’m sorry.”
He reached one shaking hand out for his coffee and gripped it tightly, although he still couldn’t bring himself to drink it. Instead he focused on Ethan’s footsteps as they faded. He’d caught himself in time, surprised to find himself about to talk about his nightmare. He didn’t tell anyone about those. Not even Heidi knew. Not really.
Speaking of which….
“I know you’re there, Heidi,” Donovan said. He wasn’t in the mood for pretense. “Come in and tell me it’s better to talk about it, like you always do.”
It was a dance they often did after one of his nightmares. He hated himself for talking to her the way he had, but he was tired. Not just tired, but scared.
This one hadn’t been like the others. It was… different, and he was still trying to get his head around it.
“You can be a real asshole before you’ve had your morning coffee.” Heidi pulled her robe around her, walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the table opposite him.