Edward
I have no idea where we are.
None.
The hills all look the same. Green. Rolling. Slightly smug about how pretty they are.
We've been on the Triumph for maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour. I've stopped trying to tell the difference.
All I know is Connor is in front of me, warm and solid, and I'm smiling like an idiot into his jacket. Full teeth. Cheeks hurt. Euphoric.
He just wrestled a sheep with me. He did manual labour and he looked excellent doing it. Jeans dirty. Sleeves pushed up. Forearms. Sweat. The way he handled that post like it personally offended him too. I've seen Connor in a suit. I've seen Connor in a uniform. I've never seen Connor with mud on his cheek and a grin like that.
It's criminal. That's what it is.
"Where are we going?" I shout over the engine.
"Home!" he shouts back. "Well. Cottage! Same thing!"
Right. Cottage. Bug recovery tea. Blankets.
