Page 5 of Scent of Home

His eyes heat. Locke laughs and stands up, swinging into the seat beside me.

“All right, so I have five cousins. Ryn and Lia. Kelly and Raider are brothers, but we don’t see them as much and,” he pauses, seeming to get stuck, “Bethany. I can't believe she's finally back.” He speaks with no little awe in his voice and I wonder what the story is. “Ryn’s as responsible as she can be for our family. She’s the mama hen and a problem all of herself, but Lia is the interesting story here.”

He leans in and gets comfy. I catch the soft scent of vanilla. For the first time, he relaxes, and I see a twinkle in his eye and a smile that hits me in the guts like a punch.

“Lia has been fighting with the neighbours, you see, it happened like this…”

I watch him, smiling back at his grin, half-captivated by his enthusiasm.

“Now, this isn’t any kind of war. This is a prank war that has gone on for four whole years now.”

I frown. “Pranking?”

“Oh, yeah. When I visited her last, she’d somehow managed to stick smiley face stickers all over their house and yard.”

I frown. “Was that terribly upsetting?”

He shakes his head. “It's not upsetting. It’s more frustrating because they don’t know how she keeps getting in.”

I snort a laugh. “Do you know?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, plausible deniability.”

“Exactly.”

His fingers don’t stay still, they tap against his thigh and in the air almost constantly.

“You got on a bus with no idea where it’s going,” I point out in the lull. The old people have fallen asleep or are reading. It feels like it’s just us in the entire world.

Locke stiffens.

“Is someone going to hurt you if they find you, Locke?” I ask, not quite hiding the deadly promise in my voice. I will cut anyone who tries to hurt him. Just because.

He’s so tense. My instincts were right. He’s running, but from what?

“No. They won’t hurt me.”

There are lots of ways of being hurt that don’t leave a bruise. But I don’t say that aloud. I just watch him while he looks down at his fingers and twists a ring on his index finger.

“What do you think we’re gonna find in Twin Rivers? I’m hoping for a wishing well with an old lady with a beak of a nose,” I say to distract him. I’ve probed enough for now.

He bursts into laughter. I’m mesmerised. The sound is musical, deep, and something I want to hear again.

“Okay, I guess, um, I want to see a shanty house with an old man shouting abuse at everyone who walks past.”

“Oh, that would be a sight. While the streets are cobbled, and when we walk into the diner, they break into song.”

Locke turns towards me, smirking. “Do you like musicals?”

“I love musicals.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Er, The Omega and The Beta.”

“I liked that one. I prefer the Alpha From The River Margie.”

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