Page 52 of Reckless

When he finally turned off the machine and the shed went quiet, the sudden absence of sound fell as thickly as a blanket. He slapped the last two goats gently on the rump to get them headed for the door. The sun was all the way up now, and it slanted in golden fingers across the animals as they trotted outside.

Robbie’s tea must have been long cold, but he crossed to the dented metal cabinet against the wall, picked up his mug and drank the last of it anyway. When he put the mug down, he ran his fingers across the pockmarked surface of the cabinet, and said, “When I was fourteen, fifteen maybe, I found an old magazine hidden behind this cabinet. It was porn. All blokes.” He shrugged. “My dad left the island when I was a toddler, and I never knew why. Guess I figured it out that day.”

“Robbie.”

“I don’t even remember what he looked like.” He didn’t look at me. “I don’t remember his voice.”

The shed was so quiet that I could hear the lowing of the cattle in the yard outside. The crunch of hooves on gravelly dirt. The squawk of a bird.

Robbie ran his hand along the cabinet again, his forehead furrowed. “I keep wondering, what if that’s in me too? What if I wake up one day and realise I’ll never be the man I’m supposed to be? What if one month I go to Newcastle and just—just never come back? Just walk away and leave Kat wondering what the hell happened to me.”

I closed the space between us and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re still here.”

He met my gaze. His eyes were wet. “I’m still here,” he said, but it sounded less like an affirmation and more like he was just testing the words aloud.

“I don’t know how to be gay on Dauntless,” he said. “Not gay the way I am.”

“You mean the things you do in Newcastle?” I wondered how much of that was Robbie punishing himself out of fear that he was his father’s son in every way. He’d never looked for a healthy relationship on the mainland, had he? Did a part of him think he didn’t deserve one, or did it go deeper than that? Did he intentionally choose arseholes to sleep with so they’d send him home bruised and hurting with his tail between his legs?

His cheeks coloured, but he nodded. “I don’t know how to be anything here except Robbie the farmer. The guy who delivers milk and doesn’t talk to anyone and keeps his head down.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

His brow creased again.

“Being gay on Dauntess. Exactly the sort of gay you are.”

His hand found mine, just like it had last night in bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I couldn’t help my faint smile. “Neither do I.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” he asked.

“It’s supposed to make you feel less alone, I think.”

He looked down at our joined hands. He moved his thumb across my knuckles, slowly and deliberately. “It does.”

“I’m glad.”

“Okay,” he said softly, and then with a little more force behind the word. “Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast,” I agreed, and he held my hand tighter and led me back towards the house.

Chapter 17

ROBBIE

It was early enough in the morning that the dew was still shining on the grass as I gave Alastair a lift back to the village. The milk in the churns sloshed in the back of the cart, and Gerty flicked her tail to discourage a fly. It felt strange having someone sit beside me on the slow trip down the hill, but not bad. Just new. I stole a glance at Alastair and found him with his eyes closed and his face turned towards the sky.

In front of us, the sunlight glittered in the harbour. The boats were all out, and the jetty was dotted with a congregation of seagulls. Washing flapped on backyard lines, and curtains fluttered in open windows. A couple of dogs wandered the street, and another one met us on the way down the hill into the village. It was Hiccup, Red Joe’s black lab.

Gerty snorted as Hiccup approached, but she knew Hiccup. And Hiccup wasn’t silly enough to jump or dance around her legs. Instead, the dog fell into step beside us, accompanying us all the way into the village to Mavis’s shop. Hiccup waited long enough until Alastair and I climbed down from the cart, got some love from the both of us, then headed towards the jetty.

“Need a hand?” Alastair asked, nodding his head towards the milk churns.

“Nah,” I said.

“Well, good.” His mouth twitched. “Because I saw you lift them back at the farm, and I honestly don’t think I could do it even if you put a gun to my head.”