Page 26 of Always Be My Pumpkin

He thinks my head shake means no. No, I don’t have feelings for Flynn. No, I haven’t been nursing a wounded heart for ten years. No, you weren’t just my shiny consolation prize.

And I can’t tell him otherwise, not with a bar full of locals hanging on our every word. Oh God, how did I not see this? Was I the world’s worst girlfriend? I guess I’m not great best friend material either. I feel nauseous as I look from Jamie to Flynn and back again.

Remembering how Jamie treated me like a princess that year after we got together at school. And for a long time after, he seemed proud that I was his girlfriend. Sure, he’d get annoyed when he’d see Flynn’s Christmas cards. But I wasn’t about to hide a card from an old friend. I swore to him that Flynn and I were only friends. And I honestly believed that, because I’d long ago given up hope of anything more.

And I think Jamie believed me too, until Flynn called me in London, after he broke up with Natalie. I’m not sure why he called, I think he just needed someone to talk to. But I didn’t get to ask him how he was or help him talk through the heartbreak of losing the girl he’d been with for years. Because Jamie interrupted and then went into a sulk telling me I cared more about Flynn than I did about him. It didn’t help that he saw me in tears, holding Flynn’s card, the following Christmas, even though I think I was just missing Oakwood and old friends. I told Jamie that, but I don’t think he believed me, and it feels like he’s been testing me ever since.

These last few months when I looked back, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong, I convinced myself it was all down to Jamie. But maybe he did only sleep with Olivia because he thought I didn’t care about him. Or that I didn’t care enough. Oh God, I feel more confused than ever now.

‘We need to talk,’ Jamie snaps. ‘I need to talk to you.’ He jerks his head towards the door. ‘Come on, Gracie, you owe me that.’

And he’s back. The old Jamie. The one who’s good to me if I play the game according to his rules.

‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’ Flynn leans close so only I can hear, and I release a ragged breath, and feel my resolve slowly seep back in.

I might be confused, and I do feel guilty about these strange, muddled feelings I’ve been harbouring about Flynn. But I’m tired of centring my life around Jamie. And I feel proud of the way I handled him last night, in front of Flynn, in front of everyone. I can’t let him derail me again.

He frowns when I don’t respond. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I’m not.’

His nostrils flare. And Flynn squeezes my hand again, and I hear what sounds like a low growl come from somewhere deep in his chest.

‘Gracie and I have plans.’ He lets go of my hand but not before giving it another squeeze. Then he stands and eyeballs Jamie. ‘And if you really do want to talk to her, try asking properly next time.’

Jamie’s face turns puce and he looks ready to explode. My eyes fall to Flynn’s notebook, and I have to clamp my lips tight to force back my grin. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at Jamie again without seeing him as a puffed-up pumpkin cartoon. And that feels like a gift, my own personal superpower to stop him wearing me down. Flynn’s gaze follows mine and I catch the spark in his eyes.

Jamie gasps as he stares at me, eyes wide with outrage. ‘Are you laughing at me?’

‘No, of course not.’ I clamp my lips tight to quell the giggles threatening to burst out. ‘But I am busy this afternoon. And I have your number, Jamie. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’

‘This is all your doing.’ He points his finger at Flynn’s chest and scowls before he turns back to me. ‘I told you he’s a bad influence. I hope you realise that before it’s too late.’

He’s still standing there furiously shaking his head – waiting for me to apologise, I think – when my whole body starts to shake, and before I can stop myself, I’m giggling like a mischievous schoolgirl, and Flynn covers his face with his hand to stifle a snort.

And the whole bar gapes at us like we’re their lunchtime soap opera. Jamie cast in the role of the bleeding-heart victim and me and Flynn the cold, heartless villains. Only, I think everybody here knows us too well to believe that.

As Jamie storms out, Flynn gives me a proud smile, and I get a weird fluttering in my stomach. Then I remember Olivia’s accusations, and Flynn reassuring Jamie that there’s never been anything between us, and I remind myself I can’t go there. No fluttering allowed.

Now that I have him back in my life, what I want more than anything is to hold on to that friendship. And the last thing I need is to mess that up with unrequited feelings, again. I might not have been the best girlfriend to Jamie, but I can try to be a better friend to Flynn. Mind you, it would help if he could just keep his shirt on.

13

‘Thank you,’ I say as we stroll by the lakeside, and the late September sun bathes us in a warm, hazy glow.

‘What are you thanking me for?’

I look up at Flynn, his tousled sandy hair, his light golden skin spattered with freckles, how his mouth curls at the corners as though he’s always on the brink of a smile. Those devastating blue eyes. And the way he’s looking at me now as if he’s telling me, I see you. I’ve got you. I’m here.

‘Thank you for making me laugh, for making me feel better.’

He reaches for the stray strand of hair that tickles my face in the breeze, then he tucks it carefully behind my ear. ‘You don’t need to thank me for that, Gracie.’ He presses a finger to the tip of my nose. ‘I like making you feel better.’

We follow the trail that takes us through the woods and around the lake, and Flynn tells me the names, and the stories, of all the trees we pass along the way. Walnut, and horse chestnut, handkerchief, and Indian bean, and dozens more that I’ll ask him to name for me again on the way back. It’s the same game we used to play when we’d walk here before he went away. I loved listening to him talk about them as if they were treasured friends.

‘You remember every single one,’ I say. ‘Why won’t they stay in my head like that?’

‘Pat took me walking here every weekend, from the very first week we moved here, remember. Told me the name of every tree, every flower, over and over.’ He smiles at the memory. ‘Even the weeds. And the stories behind them, where they came from, the ones to avoid, and how to use the good ones for healing, especially the herbs. He was teaching me this stuff since I was twelve years old.’