“Thought you’d gone home.”
“Was considering it.”
“What stopped you?”
I could give him any number of excuses—the drinks, the fire, the fact it’s his birthday and leaving early would make me look like a right prick.
Instead, I stop beside him and look out over the water.
“You.”
That gets the smallest smile out of him.
Still, he doesn’t move closer.
Doesn’t make this easy.
Fair enough.
I exhale hard and scrub a hand over the back of my neck.
“Look, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.”
I gesture between us.
He glances down. “Stand on a beach?”
“Don’t be a prick.”
“Aw, you’re nervous.”
“I ain’t nervous.”
“You’ve been digging a whole ass trench with your boot for like thirty seconds.”
I look down at the line cut through the wet sand.
“Sand started that shit.”
Wolfe laughs quietly and the sound loosens something in my chest, but only a little.
“I mean it,” I say. “I don’t know how to say any of this without sounding like a complete fucking idiot.”
“Okay, then say it badly.”
“Oh is that your wise advice?”
“Pretty much.”
“Brilliant.” I rub the back of my neck. “You know what, you and Echo both reckon you’re dead helpful, but your advice is mostly bollocks.”
Wolfe smirks. “You’re stalling.”
I glance over at him. “I’m building up to it, mate.”