AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He might not have forgiven you, but he’s truly sorry Mum’s gone.
And he was in his house. He was here, again. There was no doubt. He was reminiscing too.
He might not be ready to talk about the past, but he was certainly thinking about it.
Elliot acknowledged the enormity of his conflicting feelings: the ache of losing his mum, the unhealed pain of pushing Wentworth away when he most needed him, the fear—the agonising fear—Elliot wasn’t over him and never had been, and the hope . . . the desperate hope maybe Wentworth wasn’t either.
Wishful thinking!
Nothing but his overactive mind reading into Wentworth’s every expression. Just because Elliot used to know every facial nuance and its meaning, didn’t mean they carried the same meaning today. Too much had passed between them. Too many years. Too much.
Elliot felt the vibrations of Wentworth’s knock to his soul. “You have an excited visitor at your front door, when you’re ready.”
A faint yip in the background made Elliot smile. He pushed himself up and dressed. He didn’t bother showering—the scent of black coffee was hardly objectionable, plus those damn pipes were playing up—and squeezed into the jeans he’d bought at the weekend. And one of his new shirts, too.
He eyed himself in the mirror and liked the result of a little effort.
He shook his head. Why did it have to be Wentworth’s return that propelled him to update his wardrobe?
The things one did for . . .
The things one did.
He fussed with his hair and moved to the door. He glanced over his shoulder at his reflection once more, nodded, and turned the knob.
That smile, it always glimmered
Now it is gone
W. McAllister, “Bumblebee Breakup”
Elliot hadn’t quite reached the open front door when Wentworth and a frightfully muddy Honey spotted him.
Wentworth blinked and rocked on his heels, like he was taken aback; Honey and his dirty paws pounced.
Elliot winced, preparing to have his new clothes covered in dirt, but Honey stopped. Wentworth had him around his little body, holding him from landing on Elliot.
He picked the pup up gently and whispered that one should not put one’s dirty paws on the freshly changed. He took him outside and sat with him in the porch while Elliot slipped into casual sneakers.
The thump in Elliot’s chest quickened. Wentworth’s voice was calm and steady as he explained to Honey why it wasn’t appropriate for him to race into the house without first wiping his paws on the welcome mat. It was silly of course, but it was sweet. Elliot could see Wentworth as a patient, humorous kind of father. He wanted to thank him for being so thoughtful. For the kind way he scooped the critter up and kept chatting to him outside, large hand patting between floppy ears.
Wentworth glanced back and seeing Elliot ready, stood. “I told your neighbour we’d bring Honey over on our way.”
“Needed your daily fix, hmm?”
“He really is addictive.” Wentworth’s gaze roamed Elliot again, from head to toe. Every second of it tingled. “You look . . .” His jaw flexed and he glanced away. “We should go.”
Wentworth didn’t look at him again. He kept his eyes focused religiously elsewhere. On the pup. On the dashboard of the car. On his lager, and then on Louisa, who showed up at the pub ten minutes after them.
Tonight they were only five: Louisa, Wentworth, himself, and Cameron and his boyfriend Henry.
Henry and Wentworth, both big personalities, had half the pub in raptures. People kept coming over and joining them for rounds; they responded enthusiastically, kindly, but Henry’s attention—his sneaky grins and sneakier-looking whispers—were all for Cameron, who flushed and kept pushing up his glasses. Wentworth’s attention, on the other hand, remained consistently everywhere but on Elliot.
By the sound of his heavy laughs, Louisa entertained him thoroughly, but there was still something strained about his posture.
Elliot couldn’t help but think that Wentworth was not that into her. But he was trying to be. He clearly liked Louisa, but . . . if Elliot compared this to how Wentworth had been back then . . .
Was this his jealousy rising to the surface?
“This is unfair!” Louisa said. “Here we four are flirting with our respectives, and poor Elliot is stuck the fifth wheel! Let’s see . . . who looks like a good match for him?”
“Louisa,” Elliot said. “I’m fine.”
She scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a second. What about beautiful Butterfly Clips by the windows? Or are you more in the mood for a man? There’s a cute twink by the billiard table.”
“I’m not attracted to twinks.”
“Because you are one?” Louisa asked.
Wentworth choked on his beer and, instinctively, Elliot thumped him on the back.
He quickly dropped his arm. “I’m a bit old to pass for a twink.”
“You look cute though.” She frowned and waved it away. “So what kind of man is your type?”
