Sam was too soft, that was why. And Connor had been too tough.
“Just the usual kind,” Sam said.
“What’s the usual kind?”
“Your favourite.”
Connor’s nose scrunched up. “Squid?”
“And octopi,” Sam added. “Only place in Ireland you’ll find them, and they get big now, too. I pulled up an orange octopus the size of a dog a few weeks back.”
Connor shuddered. “You did not.” He turned to Sam. “An eldone cirrhosa? They don’t get that big here.” He stopped, seeing Sam’s small smile. “Asshole.”
“It’s only ever small squid holding onto fish that get caught in the nets. I just fire them back into the water. They’re too small to be worth the calamari. Besides,” Sam added, a soft look in his eyes, “You were the one who told me never to kill them, despite how much you hate them.”
“They’re smart enough to get scared,” Connor grumbled. “You can’t just go killing them.”
“Fish don’t get scared?”
“Have you seen those soulless eyes?”
The door to the hallway swung open, Nick leaned out. Connor must have looked too relaxed because Nick’s curious look turned sour.
“I’m coming back,” Connor said, beating him to the chase.
“Dad wants you,” Nick said briskly. He was gone again in a moment.
“Right.” Connor started for the door. “Nice chat, Sam.” His walls resolidified. How this had turned into a normal conversation, he had no idea. They hadn’t had one in years.
Sam caught his wrist in a loose hold, stopping Connor in the entranceway.
Connor glanced at him, already guessing what he was going to say. “My answer is the same.” But since the start of the conversation, he’d softened; remembered why he’d been so drawn to Sam in the summers, and remembered how much he’d enjoyed his company. “Thank you, though. For offering.” He couldn’t form the pitch of his voice to make it mean or stabbing. It came out genuine. And he saw the effect that had on Sam. His expression melted entirely; his thumb pressed against Connor’s pulse point.
“Let’s go out on the water sometime,” Sam said.
Connor tensed. Sam shook his head and let go of Connor’s wrist.
“I just mean as friends.”
“And since when were we that?”
The words should have hurt, but they didn’t land. Sam regarded him calmly. “When you get sick of dry land, come join me on the water.”
Connor didn’t want to tell him how tempting that offer really was. How weak he was to it at that moment. Part of him felt as though Sam somehowknewthat anyway. That despite Connor doing his best to keep Sam at a distance, he saw every sharp word for exactly what it was: bluster.
Mary waited inside with two takeaway coffees. She searched her brother’s face for answers as they approached, and her shoulders relaxed as she read his expression. When her gaze slipped to Connor, it was like twin daggers were aimed toward him; a reminder of how he’d treated Sam, how he didn’t deserve his help. Connor knew he wouldn’t ever take him up on that offer. He couldn’t.
“See you around, Connor,” Sam said as they headed for the exit. “Think about it, okay?”
Connor watched them go before making his way into the kitchen. Trevor was bent over the frying pan, turning sizzling rashers. “You were calling me?” he asked.
“Connor, want to tell Laurence what you’ll have for lunch? He’ll put it together for you.” Trevor called over his shoulder.
Connor searched the kitchen, finding no Laurence. He approached the back door and discovered a small room lined with stainless steel tables, all of them crowded with cake tins and batter. Laurence folded cake batter in a bowl, and grinned at Connor as he walked in. Splotches of flour covered his black uniform.
“Trevor said you’ll make me lunch?”
“What would you like?” Laurence dropped the soft spatula into the bowl and grabbed a cloth from the table to wipe his hands.
