Chapter Eight
Taine
Taine could only stare in bewildered amusement from his mobile to the shut front door. “What the shite?”
“Having trouble, Tens?” Scottie joined him in the foyer once again, a smug smile on his handsome face. On the rugby pitch, it had bothered Taine far more than it did now. “Did the baby doctor run off? Time to change his nappies?”
He scratched the underside of his neck where stubble had started to make itself known. Time to shave. “Don’t be more of an arse than you already are, Scottie. What’s your issue with him? He brought something to ease your pain. You should’ve offered your thanks—not the piss-poor attitude you treated all of us to on and off the pitch every day. You’re getting more bitter with every year that goes by. Suck on any lemons recently?”
“Oh, fuck off, Tens.” Scottie punched him in the arm, light enough not to take seriously but harder than a joke would’ve been. “He’s a bit young for you to want to bugger him silly.”
“Pardon?” Taine found himself stepping forward into Scottie’s personal space. He brought a powerful hand up to drop it heavily on his friend’s wide shoulder, gripping more tightly than required. “One of these days, you’re going to have to get over the fact that you’re attracted to other men—we all have. Until you manage to get your head out of your arse, though, stop taking your issues out on everyone else. Got it?”
Scottie stepped up to him, shifting forward with his lips twisting from a smile into something darker. “Or what? Aren’t you island boys too mild-mannered for anything more than a lecture?”
“Island boys? I’m half Scottish, you knobdobbing shite.” Taine might not have the height advantage on Scottie, by an inch or two, but he’d stayed in better shape since leaving the game. His voice deepened and the brogue from his hometown thickened. He pressed Scottie back against the wall, shoving him twice to get his attention. “What’s all this going to prove? You should have some tea and calm down before you ruin the only friendships you have left.”
“Friendships? Is that what we’re calling this?” Scottie’s breath held the slightest hint of liquor still. Taine wondered if maybe he’d been drinking long after they’d all gone to sleep at two in the morning. “Right. Friendship.”
“Break it up, lads.” Caddock made an imposing figure in the shadowy hallway. He ruined the image by flipping on the lights and grinning at them. “Tens is too old for this shit, and honestly, Scottie, you’ve stared at all of our arses frequently enough—we don’t care. Why should you? Though, Francis might send Sherlock after you if you don’t quit staring at mine.”
Deciding the best course of action would be to leave Scottie’s existential crisis to Caddock, Taine ducked around both of them to return to the kitchen. He readily accepted a mug of tea from BC before sinking into one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs with a groan. Maybe the Sin Bin is more appropriate than I thought. They’d all matured a little less than he’d initially assumed.
“He means well.” BC stood by the large windows covering one wall of the kitchen and nodded towards where they could see Caddock and Scottie walking—and arguing—outside. “I hope.”
“He doesn’t. He’s a right miserable twat.” Graham lifted his head up from where he’d been dozing on his folded arms, which rested on the table. “I don’t think getting shitfaced was on the list of doctor-approved activities.”
BC twisted around to crouch in front of him. “You all right?”
With his tea in hand, Taine made his way through the inn down to the library. He didn’t want to intrude on a quiet moment between the couple. Graham had brought out a caring and mature side to BC that none of them had known existed.
It made him miss being in a relationship.
Almost.
None of the books drew his attention; he’d never been much of a reader. Father Wilson had given up after all of his gifts of books ended up unread in stacks on a shelf. He sat by the fireplace and contemplated the future instead.
Or, he intended to until a beep on his phone signalled a new text message. Remi wanted him to go for a ride into a nearby town to find a decent cup of coffee. A suspiciously familiar-sounding village. The Frenchie tended to sneer at anything tea related.
“You couldn’t have walked down the hall?” Taine kicked his friend’s shoe lightly. “You had to text? Lazy bastard.”
“Want to get away from the madness for a few hours? Sarah’s off to visit her brother in Boscastle. It’s not too far from here—bit more than half an hour at most.” Remi sounded anxious to be off. His wife had just entered her second trimester, so Taine couldn’t blame the man. “Well?”
Taine had only met Ivan Black once, at the wedding. The Blacks of Boscastle, Sarah’s family, had quite the reputation. “You’re buying coffee.”
“Merde.”
The Blacks of Boscastle had been blacksmiths in Cornwall for hundreds of years, Ivan being the latest member of the family to follow the tradition. They had deep roots in the Cornish hills, long memories, and short tempers—if Sarah were anything to go by. She might be short, but her hair, like her anger, ran red and vibrant.
They stopped for coffee once they arrived in Boscastle. Taine wasn’t surprised when Remi picked up an extra cup and a treat for his wife. The man doted on her.
“You be nice to my Sarah.”
Taine blinked at the mild warning thrown his way when they pulled up in front of the Boscastle forge. “Me? I’m sure you’ve confused me with Scottie.”
Remi narrowed his eyes but finally nodded his agreement. “We’re going to have to sit him down to have a chat at some point.”
“That sort of chat usually ends with fists and broken jaws.” Taine remembered the last chat they’d tried to have with a friend. Caddock had been lost in grief after his brother died and he lost his career to an injury. He’d almost lost himself as well. Taine’s jaw still ached from the punch swung his way. “You’re in charge this time.”
“Merde.” Remi reached up to rub his jaw. “Maybe we should let Caddock and BC deal with it.”
“Agreed.” Remi blew on his coffee before taking a sip. “Someone has to talk to him. He’s falling apart at the seams. We’re going to see him on the news if we’re not careful—beating some poor bugger for looking at him funny.”
“Caddock would know all about falling apart.” Taine glanced out the window at what looked like a smithy from a century long gone. “This it? Did we step back in time?”
Remi hesitated with obvious unease. “Ivan’s not been doing so well. I told you about the accident, right?”
Over drinks before the wedding, Remi had told Taine all about his soon-to-be younger brother-in-law who had, as a young man, been involved in a drink-driving accident. It had caused serious injuries to all three of the lads in the vehicle, Ivan included. The young Black had suffered permanent damage to his short-term memory, amongst other issues.
“I remember.”
“He’s getting worse.” Remi shut the vehicle off and frowned at the man standing outside the forge. Ivan looked like a warrior from the highlands with a permanent storm cloud over his head. “His temper isn’t exactly a walk amongst the tulips either.”
“Wonderful.”