Chapter 8: Slow

I didn't go back to my room.

I walked out of the ballroom with the photograph in my fist.

I went past the coat rack, out the kitchen door and down the sea wall in the dark.

The cannery was a black shape against a blacker sky.

This time the yellow bulb was on.

I didn't knock.

The door was unlocked.

He sat on an upturned crate in the middle of the shavings, with a mug of tea going cold in his hands.

He looked up.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Linwood has a photograph."

I crossed the floor and put it in his hand.

He looked at it for a long time, at the October light, the cannery steps, his own hand in my hair.

His thumb moved over the edge of the paper.

"He took it from the launch," Tiernan said slowly. "He's been waiting to use it."

"Yes."

"And that's why you came."

"No."

I stood in front of him with my arms at my sides.

"I came because you were behind that door on Monday night and I let you stay there."

"I kissed your brother on the roof."

"I know."

"I stopped. I told him why. It doesn't matter that I stopped; it happened, and you're owed it said out loud."

He set the tea on the floor.

"I'm not owed anything, Hen."

"You are."

"You left out a name."

He gave a short laugh with no humor in it.

"I'm the son of a man who stands people on a stage. I'd say we both brought something."

"I don't think we're keeping score."

"I'm not asking you to pick me because it's tidy. I won't be picked by default."

"I'm not offering default."

I took the photograph out of his hand and laid it face down on the bench.

Then I turned off the lamp.

The only light left was the yellow bulb through the high window, soft as butter on the ribs of the half-built boat.

"Show me the bed you have," I said.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he stood and took my hand.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Secret Lover Is His Brother from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.