Page 5 of Viking Ink

RHYS

Simon was here—the same Simon who I had been pining and dreaming over the entire time I’d been staying in the village. My stupid crush, and now my knight in dirty denim armour. God, my life had taken a strange and painful turn tonight. I hadn’t seen the arseholes coming from the pub, too busy packing my gear away and trying to decide whether I could swallow my pride and ask Father McKellan for a bed in the shelter tonight.

“Hey, you with me, lad?” Simon’s warm hand shook me a little bit, and I struggled to focus. Standing up was proving to be a bit of a problem. Each time I got my feet under me the world suddenly veered to the left. I shot a look at Simon, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind and drag me to the hospital. I didn’t need the worry that Dad could track me down.

“I’m fine, just a little bit dizzy.” Struggling to stand, I found myself being gently lifted up. Damn, Simon raised me to my feet like I weighed nothing. I’d always thought he looked strong, but damn. He gave me an encouraging smile, and if my head hadn’t been aching like a herd of rhino were dancing inside my skull, I wouldn’t have blurted out what I did: “You’re so handsome.”

“You’re a sweetheart, and obviously suffering from a blow to the head. Come on lean on me.” He smiled softly, and I would swear he was blushing under that thick beard of his. It was kind of sweet. I found it endearing.

He’d always seemed so confident and sure of himself every time I’d glimpsed him. Truthfully, my spot for busking wasn’t only chosen for the pedestrian traffic, but also the fact that it gave me the perfect view into Simon’s tattoo shop. When the sun wasn’t bouncing off the windows in the late afternoon, I could see Simon at his workstation. The big, red-haired tattooist had caught my attention before I’d even spoken to him. The first week I had started busking, he would walk past in the late afternoon and always throw a few quid into my case and give me a smile. Then, the last two weeks, he’d begun to stop and talk—never more than a general ‘How’s your day?’ or ‘Storm’s coming,’ but I had started to look forward to that time each day with increasing fervour. I loved the sound of his deep, resonant voice, and the way his eyes were kind. He was one of the biggest men I’d ever seen, but he didn’t scare me—which, seeing I jumped at most things, was a big plus in my books.

He cast a critical eye over me. “Hmm. I think it might be easier if I just carried you.”

My heart gave a thump, and I steadfastly refused to look at Simon as I took a step forward. I would have liked nothing better than to be wrapped up in those huge, tattooed arms and carried to safety—I’d even imagined situations like that—but in those scenarios, I wasn’t a bleeding, bruised mess. I was afraid if I let him carry me, I might break down completely. “I’ll be okay. It’s not far, right?’

“Just down the lane. But you can hold onto my arm as we go. Don’t want you falling flat on your cute face.”

“You think my face is cute?” I grinned, despite my split lip and throbbing eye.

“I do, even though you look like you’ve gone four rounds with Chris Eubank. Now, be a good boy and let me help you.” Simon’s voice was deep and comforting, and I found myself easily obeying. I liked the way the words good boy sounded when Simon said them.

Moving my head slightly sent a bolt of pain through my skull, but I wasn’t going to give in. I could make it down the path.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I staggered slightly as I tried to move.

Simon shook his head with an amused huff. “I don’t think so, lad.”

I was ready to argue, but he silenced me with a stern look, his amber eyes narrowing and his full lips turning down in a frown. “You need to be patched up, and if you won’t let me take you to the hospital or call the police, then you’re going to let me take care of you. Besides, where were you planning on spending the night? The shelter is always full up by this time of night.”

I gaped at him in shock and backed away from him. How did he know I was bedding down most nights at the shelter? “How did you know that?”

Simon held his hands out. “No, lad, it’s not like that, I promise. Nothing creepy.”

I wrapped my arms around my sore ribs in self comfort, my thin jumper doing nothing to fight the cold wind that was whipping across the square. I wanted to believe Simon, and to trust that he was one of the good guys, but life had pulled the rug from underneath me too many times.

“Look, lad, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know when someone’s scared, and I’m guessing it’s not just what happened to you tonight. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help you.”

“Why?” Simon sounded sincere, and I truly wanted to believe him, but how did he know I was sleeping rough?

Simon’s face crinkled into a frown. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to help me? You hardly know me.” My breath plumed out in white frosty clouds, and I shivered, wanting Simon’s arm around me again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to help you? Firstly, not to be mean, but you look like my old ginger cat after he went four rounds with Mr Macklin’s Yorkshire terrier, and I would never turn my back on someone who needed help. Secondly, you’re a good lad. People in town like you.”

I frowned. Sure, the locals had seemed to be treating me well, and I often found a tenner thrown into my guitar case, and even the local copper didn’t bother trying to move me on like some did in other towns. But I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought that the townspeople liked me.

“They like me? They hardly know me,” I stammered out, swaying a little as my brain decided now was the time to spin in my skull.

“You’re here every day busking. You help Mrs Tan set up her market stall every Saturday. You help Lottie sweep out the café when she closes up, and you helped Father McKellan with his blanket drive.” Simon stepped a little closer, and I couldn’t help but lean into him. A small, tired sigh slipped out when Simon put a gentle arm around my shoulder. “You have, without thinking about it, made yourself part of our little town.”

I let myself sink further against Simon, mulling over what he’d said. Yeah, I’d done all those things, because it seemed only right to help where I could. But I didn’t realise that other people had cared or noticed.

“Try not to overthink things, lad. Let’s get you home and fix you up.”

I smiled tiredly and nodded, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Yes, Sir.”

Simon’s eyes darkened slightly, for a minute I swear he looked at me like he wanted to eat me, but it was gone quicker than a flash, more imagined than real.

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