Page 176 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Flynn said, “You know Theo only volunteers to get your drinks so much because that way he can order you singles, right?”
“Pfft. He would never betray me like that.”
I watchedas Flynn shuffled even closer to Seb, winding a stray curl around his finger before pressing a kiss to his cheek. I smiled. These two used to make me sick to my core with jealousy. Instead, an intense pang of missing Teddy shot through me—something that happened every time we were apart for too long. Like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed, stealing my breath.
I unlocked my phone to check for messages. My background was my favourite ever picture of Teddy—one of Freddy sitting on his head whilst Teddy scowled at the camera, arms folded. I opened up the contact labelled “Teddy Bear.” He’d groaned when I’d shown him the name, but I knew he secretly loved it. Probably.
In his phone, I was listed as “Thorne in my Side.” I’d changed it twice to “Thorne in my Ass,” but Teddy didn’t seem to find that as funny as me.
Then I felt it—a distant tug, faint but definitely there. He was close.
A smile crept onto my lips, that familiar warmth spreading through me.
“Move onto that stool so Teddy can sit next to me,” I ordered Priya.
“Are you fucking joking? No way.”
She crossed her arms, settling deeper into the booth like she was planning to take root there.
A minute or so later, Teddy strolled through the door, eyes scanning the busy pub. When he locked eyes with me, a jolt shot through my entire body, kick-starting my pulse.Thump, thump, thump.The sound of his heartbeat echoed in my ears.
“You’re late!” I told him when he reached us. “And now you have to sit on a stool. Priya won’t move.”
Teddy rolled his eyes but didn’t sit down. Something odd threaded through him into me. Almost like… nervousness?
“Sorry. I had to go grab something on the way here. Can you come outside with me for a second?”
I stared at him, confused. Priya looked between us, eyebrows raised.
“Umm… okay?” I said, pushing at Priya so she’d let me out of the booth.
“Oi, watch it!” she snapped.
The short journey to the pub garden felt like walking through treacle. Teddy’s anxiety bled into me through our bond, creating a horrible feedback loop—his nerves making me nervous, which made him more nervous, which made my own heart pound so badly I could barely breathe properly.
By the time we stepped into the small courtyard behind The George, my hands were shaking.
Fuck, he’s breaking up with me. He’s bored of me. He can’t take it anymore. He’s going to do it right here. And I’ve missed all the signs again, just like with Dev.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. Maybe if I concentrated on the good bits, I could store them up before he took them all away.
Three months of Teddy bringing me coffee in bed every morning I stayed over, even though he thought I drank too much caffeine. The way he’d started buying the expensive beans from Fat Cat’s to try and replicate the experience from home.
Three months of him sneakily feeding Freddy crackers when he thought I wasn’t looking, to try and bribe him into liking him. Three months of Freddy biting his hand in return.
Three months of the most mind-blowing sex I’d had ever, including the way he’d let me scent mark him whenever I felt anxious, marking every inch of his skin until he smelled like mine for days.
Three months of him learning how to cook all my favourite meals instead of living off restaurant food. Teddy standing in his tiny kitchen, swearing at a recipe book whilst smoke billowed from the oven, refusing my help because he was “perfectly capable of following basic instructions.”
Movie nights where he’d pretend to hate my film choices but somehow always ended up completely absorbed, shouting at the screen.The time he’d cried at the end ofHow to Train your Dragonand tried to blame it on hay fever.
Him learning to read my moods through the bond, knowing exactly when I needed space, and when I needed him to hold me until the restless energy settled. Never making me feel broken or too much.
The way he’d started leaving his poetry books around his flat, acting casual when I picked them up. Pretending he didn’t notice when I dog-eared my favourite pages. That time he’d randomly caught my waist in the corridor, whispering in my ear, “I have loved none but you,” and I pretended I knew what it was from.
Three months of him defending me in meetings at Killigrew Street, backing me up even when I’d been slightly impulsive or reckless. Making me feel like I had someone properly in my corner for the first time in years.
All those nights talking until dawn, sharing pieces of ourselves we’d never given anyone else. The careful way he’d told me about his father, how he hoped he was making him proud. How he’d held my hand when I’d finally managed to explain about the worst bits of growing up with mine.
