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∞
Normally Chloe would keep trying to prise conversation out, but she’s on a roll with her drawing and Tate seems content enough to just be here with her. At least if he’s keeping her company he’s not down on the beach, alone, falling apart. Tate stretches out again and lies back on the grass with his hands behind his head as she works on her drawing.
What he had said to her had done wonders for her drawing. She’s done more on it in the last twenty minutes than she has for the last few weeks. It’s probably not doing any harm having him lying beside her, although if she keeps stealing sneaky looks at him, she won’t get much more done.
His irritatingly addictive face is on full view today thanks to the baseball cap keeping his hair out of the way. It’s hard to place an age on him but Chloe thinks he’s a little older than her, perhaps mid-thirties. She doesn’t know what it is about him that stops her asking questions she’d usually ask. After the way he left the house yesterday, she realised she has to take things slower with him. Whatever happened to cause him to suffer so much on those few times she saw him, it’s still there, still inside him. The last thing she wants to do is potentially make it worse.
She’s also being a little selfish. She likes him. Really likes him. He has to be one of the most confusing people she’s ever met. The way he looks and his choice of career matched. She’s a little embarrassed to admit she thought that was all there was to him. But then he mentioned the violin and piano which completely threw her.
The more she spoke to him, the more her initial impressions of him altered. The way he talked her through her block just now only added to her confusion... and her attraction. She barely knows him but she feels completely comfortable around him. If he’s content to keep her company, she’s going to take it.
About twenty minutes later she glances across at him and knows something is wrong. She was so wrapped up in her drawing she hadn’t noticed he fell asleep at some stage. But now, it looks like he’s having a nightmare. His brows are scrunched and his eyes are squeezed shut. He groans in his sleep and the whimper of pain hits her like a blow to the gut.
Chloe dumps her notepad on the ground and leans over him, gently shaking his shoulder.
‘Tate? Tate, wake up.’
He curls onto his side. ‘Please, don't...’
Chloe’s pulls her hand away. ‘Tate!’ He buries his head under his arms. ‘Tate? Wake up!’ She shakes him gently again and he suddenly opens his eyes. ‘It’s me. It’s Chloe. I’m sorry if I startled you. You fell asleep.’
He pushes away from her and scrubs his hands over his face. ‘Shit. Sorry.’
‘It’s fine, really. Are you okay?’
He stands up and brushes sand off his jeans. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I gotta—’
‘Please don’t go,’ she says before he can disappear. ‘We don’t have to mention it again. Just stay. Help me with this blasted drawing. Please.’
He whistles and Jove joins him on the grass. ‘I better go. Good luck with the drawing.’
He pulls himself into the saddle and takes off down the beach. Chloe stares after him and resists the urge to scream. Either she’s losing her touch, which was never incredibly effective to begin with, or Tate is dealing with something that’s so far beyond her.
∞
‘Blood hell, mate. You look shite.’
Tate glares over at Gregg as he leads Jove into the stable. ‘Cheers. Appreciate that.’
‘You okay?’
Tate ignores Gregg while he sorts out Jove then leans against the closed stable door. ‘I dozed off on the beach.’
‘Okay. We’ve all done that at some stage. What’s the problem?’
‘I wasn’t...’
‘You weren’t what?’
‘There was someone else there, with me, okay. I fell asleep, which was bad enough, then I had a nightmare.’
‘Nightmare about what?’
Getting my mum killed. ‘Don’t remember. I feel like such a fucking idiot, Gregg.’
‘I’m presuming this was a female someone.’
‘Why’d you say that?’
