Page 23 of Twisted Paths

Luke shakes his head slightly. “Six-year-olds seem exhausting.”

“She is. But in the best way.” I smile, thinking of her. “She’s already decided she’s going to be a ‘famous explorer’ when she grows up, which I think is just an excuse to climb things she shouldn’t.”

Luke exhales a small laugh. “Reckon she’ll join the walking group?”

“She’d love to, but she’d spend more time jumping in puddles than actually walking.”

He takes another sip of his pint, watching me as I talk. I get the sense that he’s actually listening, not just being polite.

I glance down, running my fingers along the condensation on my glass. “Anyway, that’s the family. Just the three of us, really. No long-lost cousins, no interfering aunts. Which is probably a blessing.”

Luke nods, like he understands that more than he’s letting on. “Sounds like a good setup.”

“It is.” I pause, watching the way his fingers tap lightly against his glass. “What about you? Any siblings?”

His grip tightens slightly, just for a second. Then he shakes his head. “No. Just me.”

Something shifts in his tone, but before I can press, he lifts his pint again, like that’s the end of it.

I let the silence settle, watching as he takes another slow sip.

There’s more to that answer. I just don’t think he’s ready to tell me yet.

The sun has dipped slightly, casting long golden streaks across the village as we walk side by side down the quiet lane. The warmth of the afternoon still lingers in the air, a soft breeze stirring the hedgerows.

Luke walks with his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. He seems… settled. Lighter, even. The gruff reluctance that had been there at the start of the walk has faded, replaced by something else.

I steal a glance at him as we near my cottage. The slight crease in his brow is gone, and there’s a faint, almost reluctant curve at the corner of his mouth.

When we reach my gate, we stop.

Luke rocks back on his heels slightly, glancing at my door before meeting my eyes again. “Thanks for today,” he says. “It was…” He pauses, then exhales a short laugh, as if he can’t quite believe his own words. “I actually enjoyed it.”

I grin. “Even with Bernard’s crimes?”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Even with Bernard’s crimes.”

His hand comes out of his pocket, and for a second, I think he might shake mine, but he just runs it over the back of his neck instead. “I’ll come to the next one.”

I blink. “You will?”

He nods, looking almost resigned to it. “Yeah. Seems like I survived this one.”

I cross my arms. “That sounds dangerously close to enthusiasm.”

Luke smirks. “Let’s not get carried away.” His eyes drift to the little weatherproof cabinet at the entrance to my drive. “What’s that?” he asks, stepping closer.

“Oh, that’s my little library. I put books in, and people can take them, borrow them, or add their own. People love it,” I explain. I saw the idea online last year and thought it was brilliant.

“So, you give away books… for free?” His gaze lingers on me, unreadable. One of his fingers drifts over the spines, pausing briefly on a John Brooks crime novel.

“Well, most people add their own books too, so it’s more of a book exchange,” I shrug.

He doesn’t reply. I can’t tell from his expression whether he thinks it’s a great idea or a completely ridiculous one.

Silence settles between us. Not awkward, just… charged. His eyes hold mine, the dark blue appearing brighter. They are filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on. There’s a weight to the moment, like something is teetering on the edge of happening, but neither of us is sure what.

I swallow, suddenly aware of the way he’s looking at me. And the way I’m looking back.

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