Arthur’s Mate; Robin’s Mate; Peter’s Mate; Joel’s Mate Read online

  “Going back into town. Drinking. Day off, anyway.”

  Yara gave him a little frown, her chunky arms folding together. She looked almost as bulky as he did. Seemed to be a Valor trait. “Don’t drink yourself into a grave. I can come, if you want?”

  “No. I’d rather be alone.”

  “Suit yourself.” She tossed him the keys, still looking concerned, but let him go his merry way back into town. A few streets from Lamarya’s place, he parked and moved into his favorite local bar, usually dead at this time of the morning. You had to be sad or an addict to come here at such a time. He could almost taste the alcohol on his tongue. Be nice to drown away his thoughts.

  Tucked in the corner of the bar, he saw someone he didn’t recognize. Wearing a long-sleeved blue turtleneck, blonde hair a mess, she seemed to try and hide herself from view, sipping on froth that floated on dark-colored beer. Only one other patron was in the bar, and he worked the slot machines, tipping quarters in a vain attempt to win dollars. The bartender took one look at Arthur, and Arthur nodded. The signal for the usual.

  Pretty early in the morning for someone to be drinking such heavy beer. And were there any blondes in Valor Lake? A tourist, most likely. But what kind of tourist sat in a local bar with bed hair?

  He grabbed his drink from Tom, asking to put it on a tab, and sauntered over to the woman. If she did turn out to be a troll, he’d still at least attempt to make polite conversation, make sure she was here for the right reasons. Could be dangerous for a lonely woman in this place.

  She glanced up from the rounded, dark wooden table, where she’d been scratching the beer mat with one chipped nail, and bright blue eyes stared back at him. Those same eyes narrowed in suspicion. He still couldn’t gauge her on the attraction scale, because she wore an unpleasant expression, and had blotchy, puffed cheeks, as if she’d been crying. Maybe that explained the woebegone style. Should be sitting at home spooning ice cream down her throat while watching some soppy romance movie or something.

  “Hey,” he said, deciding to dispense with the one-line flirt. She didn’t look in the mood for flirting. Maybe a friendly ear. “I’ve not seen you around before.”

  Her lips wrinkled and she clutched her glass tighter, until the knuckles turned yellowish white. “Shouldn’t you be in jail?”

  “Huh?” He gaped at her, baffled. “Why d’you say that?”

  Doubt framed her eyes. “Wasn’t it you, then…? I saw, uh, I saw someone last evening who’d been kicked out of his house. The police turned up for him.”

  “Oh.” Heat burned his ears, and a faint flush crept into his neck, just thinking about that godawful evening. Still made his hands tingle. “Yeah, that was me. You saw that?” Was there anyone in the street? Maybe the windows… he wasn’t really looking at the windows.

  “Heard some of it, too.” A smile twitched on that puffy face. “Did you really cheat on that woman?”

  “No!” He scraped a chair over and sat down opposite her, without asking for an invite. She didn’t seem to mind, however. “I didn’t! It just… I guess you could say she’s the jealous type. Doesn’t want me speaking to my sister. That kind of thing.” Was he really having this conversation with a perfect stranger?

  Apparently, he was.

  “Oh. I know about those.” She absently swilled her glass. “The cops let you out, then?”

  He’d been trying so hard to place her accent, with those soft vowels, that for a moment, he didn’t comprehend what she’d said. “Yeah. They’re my colleagues. I’m one of the four people who work in the police precinct in this village. We don’t get a lot of crimes, so we don’t got a lot of cops.” He self-consciously rubbed his neck, before reaching for his drink. “I’m on a break, now. Supposed to be trying to fix my relationship with Lamarya, but as you can see… that turned out well.”

  She let out a snort, now running fingers through her hair in an effort to look more presentable. Didn’t smell too bad. He couldn’t quite place the scent. Something like the citrusy, lotion smell that came with summer. Or of someone who needed to wear SPF 50 or something. Damn, though—she’d seen that shitshow. He pictured Lamarya laughing to herself as she turned the keys in the ignition of his car, driving off to God knew where. Into the sunset or something, with some other boy toy in tow.

  “I realize this is a bit forward,” she said, leaning closer, elbows braced on the table, “but I’m really curious. If you don’t mind answering—how long you two been together for?”

  Arthur examined the petite girl for a moment, hesitant. He hated spilling his guts, revealing anything. It opened a window of vulnerability for later. But then again, maybe he did need to talk about it. Lamarya still churned somewhere in his guts, unsettling them and making it hard to digest anything.

  “Four months.” Now that he said it out loud, four months really didn’t sound that long. Lamarya made four months feel like four years, however.

  “And you were having troubles from the start?” The woman propped herself up, every inch the shrink, clearly interested in drilling him for information.

  “Eh,” he said. “I guess. We were supposed to be a one-night stand. But I guess she kept coming over to me, and me to her.” He took another gulp, scanning the room to see if anyone else had entered. The clink of tumbling dollars came from one of the slot machines—looked like Greg did get lucky, after all. Eddie and Harold referred to Greg as a loser from the edges of the village, living in his unclean, broken-down trailer. Often needed to go over to him with some issues with the clans, intruding too deep into their territory and killing their game. Greg scooped up the coins and staggered over to the bar, ready to spend it all on drinks.

  “Right.” The woman wrinkled her nose, clearly unimpressed at the one-night stand declaration. “I guess if you’re going to start your relationship in sex, you really need to know who you’re sleeping with before you stick your dick in crazy.”

  He spluttered, liquid dribbling out of his nostrils. “Shit! A moment...” he coughed, before grinning at her. “When you put it like that… but you know, I thought it was worth a try. Isn’t that what relationships s’all about? Just… leaping in the deep end. Seeing how it turns out.”

  “No.” Her answer came back firm. “You need to test the waters, first. Start shallow. Never go into a relationship before you know something about the other person.”

  Her face appeared a lot less puffy now. “You had some relationship issues yourself, I take it?” He gambled with the idea in his mind. “That why you been crying?”

  She choked out a laugh, and he saw how one hand disappeared under the table, bracing against her leg. “It doesn’t matter. I’m out of it now.”

  “Doesn’t look like it doesn’t matter,” Arthur pressed, thoroughly enjoying this opportunity. “You can give Cliffs notes. After all, I did just tell you about Lamarya.”

  “Not really,” she said. “But, okay. Fine. I...” her lip twitched, “I sort of ran away from my home. Far away as possible.”

  “You have a home?” he asked sharply, slightly alarmed. If she happened to be drifting aimlessly, sleeping in the back of her car or something...

  “Yeah, I do. The rent’s pretty cheap here. I’m lodged up in one of those thatched cottages in Grass Street.” She rocked back and forth slightly. “He, uh, he wasn’t really expecting me to leave. I didn’t really tell him. Or my parents. I just… it wasn’t nice being there. I had to buy a new phone, so I didn’t have to read their messages when I went to work.”

  “He hit you or something?” Arthur wouldn’t be sure how he’d feel if Lamarya just upped and left him without warning. But then again, he didn’t exactly smack people about.

  “Sometimes. He’d be very nice at times, and very...” She shook her head, as if trying to rearrange things to make sense in her head. “Everything was my fault, if something went wrong. Even if I thought he was wrong… he’d explain why it was me.”

  “Ah, fuck him,” Arthur said with vehemence. “He sounds like fucking Lamarya. Always my fault if something went wrong, never hers. Fuck those kinds of people.” Trying to make it sound like he was at fault just because he refused to not talk to his damn sister. He should have listened to his mother, and grandmother. But no. Too busy chasing the feel of sex, of those hot, rough days and nights together. They were best when they didn’t bother talking to one another.

  She smiled shyly and gulped her drink to half-empty. But she didn’t look entirely convinced.

  “What’s your name, actually? I’m Arthur,” he said, now realizing they’d gone into deep territory without even bothering to snatch names to their faces.

  “Emma,” she said. After a small hesitation, she reached out a hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” He grasped her hand, noted how warm and sweaty it felt, how soft the ball of her palm was, and let go. She rubbed at her face, and he saw the faintest trace of a dimple in her cheek muscles. His eyes lasered on the dimple for a moment, and he inhaled sharply.

  “I take it you’re a local, anyway.” Emma’s hand still rested open on the table, bent in the shape she’d cusped his hand with. “I don’t really know anyone here, yet. Honestly, I’m feeling a little lonely. I was thinking, maybe I should find out if there’s any coffee clubs or charity meetings or anything. Try and get involved with the local community.” Her eyes lit up. “Well, you’ve got an excuse to come around to my house, if you’re not nervous of running into that Lamarya person.”

  “Oh?” He finished his drink in a heavy series of gulps, ready to leave or grab another drink if needed.

  “She continued throwing out some of your stuff when you’d gone. I picked it up and left it in some of my packing boxes in the hall… but a lot of it’s broken. I didn
’t know if I’d ever see you again, really, but it didn’t seem right to leave it lying in the middle of the road, you know?”

  Warmth flooded through Arthur, and a small knot of anxiety vanished from his stomach.

  “Thanks a bunch for that. I was dreading having to go back into… that. Well, you saw, I guess. I’ll still need to get that car off her—but I’d like to pick some of it up later. I’ll get Eddie to bring his car around.”

  “I’d help, but I left my car, too.” She appeared apologetic at the fact. “Left a lot behind.”

  He grinned. “I’ll introduce you to my sister if you’re feeling a little lonely. She’s got a group of girlfriends she hangs out with. I’m also interested in fishing and hunting, so if you got some spare time, maybe we can grab a rod or something and catch some bass.”

  Her eyebrows lifted up, and Arthur re-examined his words. Wait. Did he just… ask her out on a date?

  No. Fishing was hardly a date. He was fine. And she’d probably refuse, anyway, since women didn’t like fishing at all.

  “Sure,” she said. “I don’t know shit about fishing, since I don’t really see what’s so exciting about sitting in a place for hours, but I guess if I’m going to live here for any length of time, I better learn some of these things, right?”

  Oh. She’d actually accepted. He’d completely winged the offer, and this messy-haired stranger with obvious baggage agreed without a trace of embarrassment.

  “Great!” he said, blinking awkwardly for a moment. Part of him wondered if he happened to be too reckless with this. Just because he happened to like looking at the woman, hearing that quaint accent of hers—that didn’t mean he needed to, what, ask her out?

  For fuck’s sake, I only just split up with Lamarya. He reined in his thoughts, furiously gritting his teeth. No. This wasn’t a date. This was a perfectly friendly thing to do for someone who happened to need showing around the Lake. Though he believed she’d be better off not staying here at all. The clans, the families—they always became apprehensive if strangers hung around for too long. Didn’t want their secrets coming out.

  “I’ll give you my number, shall I?” She fished out a cute little cellphone with a cover of a blue koala on it, then slowed down, as if not wanting to appear too eager.

  She must be lonely. Who was he to deny her the chance of a friendship? He rattled out his number, and she called him once to confirm correct entry, before he offered her a drink.

  “I’ll just finish this one off and go,” she said, rather mournful. “I can’t tolerate much, I’m a lightweight.” She smiled thinly, and he nodded.

  “Fair enough. If you stay around longer, though, you’ll meet Eddie and Harold. They’re good guys. The policemen who picked me up.”

  “It’s okay. I need to get going.” She tucked her phone away, glugged down the drink and wiped her mouth, before giving him a bright smile. “I hope… I hope I can settle in. Make some friends.”

  Something about that stark honesty made his heart throb. An annoying, less-than-manly throb that made him want to growl and thump the feeling out. Still, he couldn’t fault that kind of sad honesty. Made a change from a few quick lies and then straight into bed.

  “No problem. Listen—I’m going to Valor River in three days, and I’ll take a spare pole with me, since you said you’ve not done it. As long as you’re a good listener, I don’t see why we won’t be able to teach you a few things. My sister’ll come as well,” he added, not wanting to freak her out, scare her back into whatever hole she came from. “So it’s not like it’ll just be the two of us. If that’s okay.” He shut himself up before he babbled more. Then, in an attempt to regain some coolness, he leaned on his elbow, attempting to project what his father claimed helped reel in the females hook, line and sinker.

  She appeared to ignore the attempt and nodded instead, a faint tinge of red invading her cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’d—if it’s not a problem for you, I’d appreciate it.” She stood up quickly, reaching out to shake his hand once more. Then she left in a hurry, almost tripping over her unlaced boots as she did so, black handbag swinging. He tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her behind, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  Probably best not to mention her to Eddie and Harold when they came for drinks and played a few rounds of pool. They’d only encourage him on, anyway.

  He got up, heading to Tom to grab another drink.

  Chapter Three – Emma

  Emma sat on the bus back home from a half day at work, rather giggly inside. Somehow the journey didn’t feel so monotonous anymore, now that she had a little more to look forward to than slinking back home, ignoring messages, and binge-watching shows or playing sudoku in the bathroom.

  But fishing? What the fuck did she know about fishing? She’d never touched a damn rod in her life. She harbored next to no interest in it at all. Yet she’d happily agreed to it like she thought it the best thing ever.

  I bet I’ll look like a massive fool. Sitting there casting the line into a tree or something or being yanked over the side by some fat bastard of a fish. She did some precursory research on her phone about fishing, but soon grew bored and confused with all the terminology and specifications they added to it. Marcus hated fishing, he thought it boring compared to American football and baseball. He always used to attend the matches if he could on her dime, and never invite her along. Saying he needed “guy” time out.

  Trouble was, she actually agreed with him at first. But when she started becoming lonelier, his refusal to take her out became more blatant.

  Her stomach twisted into unpleasant knots. She hated thinking about him. Hated seeing his face in her mind, that gut-churning unease whenever he happened to be around, that desperate need to please.

  Never being able to please. Always doing something wrong. Always being her fault, that if only she just happened to try harder, be better, they could go back to how things were before.

  Taking a few sharp breaths, she refocused her mind and sent a tentative text to Arthur, scared that he might not reply, or think she was bothering him or being too forward in sending the message.

  Hey, Emma here. Still don’t mind me fishing with you later?

  She bit her lip, waiting for a reply, unsure why her insides became all wriggly at the thought of receiving a message. It was just words, damnit. Yet she eyed her phone like a hawk. Except… no, she shouldn’t keep camping by her phone. She needed to prepare.

  Frantically rummaging through her meager closet, she yanked out a few clothes which could be suited to fishing, including that sleeveless, puffy red parka she bought herself one time because it’d been discounted up to 80%, thanks to a torn lining inside. A few stitches later, and it served her purposes. Hiking boots, a hat, lotion, snacks, a water container… she didn’t exactly have survival materials. Or exactly know how to survive outside. God, she’d probably freeze to death in one night. Woolen socks, fingerless gloves… she hastily shaved herself and spritzed her body with her favorite En Guarde scent, stared at her legs in the mirror in irritation, then finished packing.

  She hadn’t shaved because she was interested in Arthur or anything. She just… she wanted to look nice and tidy and presentable. Like anyone would when they wanted to make a good impression. Since she had looked somewhat similar to a drowned rat when they first met, thanks to a sleepless night, and scrolling through messages even though she should have known better not to scroll through them at all.

  Fucking idiot. Her phone buzzed.

  I’m in the street. Sister’s car.

  Her heart leaped to her throat as if she’d just been told to jump off a cliff, before she gathered what little composure remained and left her little cottage, rolling the suitcase behind.

  Double-checking the front door was locked, she then scanned the narrow street, before spotting a neon blue Land Rover, with a rather severe-looking woman wedged behind the wheel. Arthur sat in the passenger seat, with his hair gelled back, his face freshly shaven, and he waved at her. The woman parked close, braked, and got out of the vehicle.

  “I’m Yara,” she said, extending a beefy hand. Emma had never seen a woman look so tank-like. The only person who outmatched her was Arthur, which made sense, given the whole brother and sister thing.