Bromfield Hall @bromfieldhall - Tumblr Blog

THE ONE - A Polin Fanfic - Chapter 1

SYNOPSIS: After years and years of hard work, musician, Colin Bridgerton, finally makes it to the big time when his new song becomes a huge success.

He should be happy, he really should.

It's everything he's dreamed of, except...he'd only written it in a last ditch attempt to move on from the past, and sending the demo had been a mistake, and now everyone keeps on and on asking him - just who is 'The One' he's singing about?

Songfic based on Dakota by Stereophonics

RATING: G

THE ONE

Four years ago…

“Summertime, think it was June”

The first thing Penelope noticed about the pub was the noise.

It wasn’t excessive, exactly, just loud in the way that came with balmy summer evenings and too many people squeezed into a space never meant to hold them. There was lots of laughter and chatter and somewhere in the back she heard a glass shatter followed by a very rowdy cheer.

She hovered in the doorway for a moment, already half-regretting letting her sister’s drag her along.

“It’s better than sitting in your room reading a stupid book,” Prudence had said.

Penelope wasn’t entirely convinced.

Still, she stepped inside, nervously straightening a strap of her lilac sundress and craned her neck to try and find her siblings. Which, in all honesty, was difficult when she was annoyingly short. Even with the extra two inches of added height from her wedge heeled sandals, the place seemed to be filled with nothing but giants.

And then, to make matters worse, almost immediately, she collided with someone.

It all happened so quickly. One second she was navigating her way toward the bar, the next a man turned abruptly, his beer slopping over the sides of his pint glass like a veritable tidal wave that was going to hit her full in the face.

Instinctively, she lurched away from him and jerked her head back, only to hear a rather sickening crack as she connected with something hard.

“Ow!”

A sharp pain shot through the back of her skull, followed by a startled exclamation from behind her and the scrape of a chair as if someone was steadying their balance.

Penelope’s heart lurched and she spun around, raising a hand to her head to rub gingerly at the sore spot.

“Oh my…I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”

She stopped and looked up. And up. And found herself gazing at the most stunning looking man she’d ever seen in her life.

True, she’d only just scraped past twenty-one, so not a great age, but still…

The man, who she’d just very nearly, probably, sent sprawling was staring back at her, one hand pressed to his chin. His eyes, which were the darkest shade of blue she’d ever encountered, were comically wide. Thankfully, it seemed to be more in surprise than annoyance and she cleared her suddenly dry throat, ready to offer another, far more coherent, apology.

“I…” she began, only to be cut off by Mr Blue Eyes letting out a loud bark of laughter.

Her mouth snapped shut and she frowned slightly when he did it again. Perhaps she’d hit him harder than she’d realised.

Or he was in shock and the anger would follow.

She took a small, involuntary step back then halted when he finally spoke.

“I think,” he started, a little breathless from his barely contained mirth, “that might be the best entrance I’ve seen all week.” His gaze flicked down, then slowly rose again, taking her in. “Nice moves. I’m Colin, by the way.”

Still smiling, he dropped his hand and held it out to her. Penelope blinked back at him and felt her cheeks begin to warm. She wasn’t used to men paying her attention. Particularly one that wouldn’t look out of place in some glossy magazine, modelling one high end brand or another.

She ran her gaze over his face, taking in his chestnut-coloured curls, those eyes and ridiculously full lips…then she noticed a small cut on his chin.

“Oh God! You’re bleeding,” she gasped in mortification.

His smiled faded slightly and he reached up to dab a finger on the affected area. When he pulled it away, his grin returned. There was hardly anything there.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed with an easy shrug. “I’ll survive. I’ve had worse.”

That did not make her feel better.

“I should get you something,” she insisted, glancing around as if a fully stocked first aid kit might magically appear. “A tissue, or…”

“Nah, I’m good,” he dismissed, then reached out to gently take her hand, bringing her attention snapping back to him. He bent his head slightly before adding reassuringly, “Really. It’s nothing.”

She could feel the heat returning to her cheeks and glanced down to where he still held her hand. It was warm and comforting, setting off a tingling sensation that skittered up her arm before blooming throughout her entire body until it gathered low in her stomach, like a kaleidoscope of butterflies that refused to still.

Good Lord, she was in trouble.

He let her go, his fingers lingering for a fraction too long against hers, and she felt a distinctly unhelpful pang of disappointment at the loss of it.

“Sorry, I promise I don’t usually go around injuring people,” she muttered, trying to compose herself.

“I should hope not,” he replied, amusement still threading through his voice. “Though I have to admit, it’s made for a memorable introduction.” He paused, a light frown suddenly creasing his brow. “Well, if I knew your name it would.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. Between embarrassment, guilt and a healthy dose of awareness of the man in front of her, she imagined that her face must be redder than her hair at this point.

“Oh, right, yes, of course,” she babbled, hopelessly failing at trying not to appear flustered. “It’s Penelope.”

“Penelope,” he repeated slowly, trying it out, and there was something in the way he said it that made her stomach flip. Again. “It suits you.”

She had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

“Thank you,” she said finally, a little too primly, and immediately felt her pulse kick when his smile widened.

“You’re welcome.” There was a brief pause as they stared at each other, the silence threatening to become awkward until Colin straightened slightly and spoke again. “So, are you planning on staying, or was this just a hit-and-run situation?”

Penelope let out small laugh at that. “I was dragged here, actually.”

“Dragged?” he repeated, his face falling a little as he glanced at the crowd behind her. “Oh, well, I assume your…friend…is somewhere around here then?”

“My sisters,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes. “They promised me it’d be fun.”

His face visibly brightened again. “And you didn’t believe them?”

“I think their definition of fun and mine might differ slightly,” she told him wryly.

“Fair enough,” he conceded, then leaned forward and added in a conspiratorial tone, “Although, for what it’s worth, you’ve already improved my evening, loads.”

She stared at him for a second, certain she must have misheard. “I have?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It was boring before you arrived. Now there’s a risk of bodily harm. Much more exciting.”

She laughed properly then, the sound slipping out before she could stop it and his expression softened in response.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” she said, still smiling.

“Very much so.”

Before she could think of anything else to say, a voice called his name from somewhere behind.

“Colin! You’re up!”

He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her, reluctance flickering briefly across his expression.

“That’s my cue,” he said, nodding toward the raised dais opposite the bar.

Penelope followed his gaze and spotted a stool and microphone with a guitar case off to one side.

“You’re a singer?” she asked, a little surprised.

Colin’s mouth curved. “Don’t I look like one?”

She took a moment to look him up and down, noting his loose jeans and pristine trainers. His dark blue t-shirt, that fit him rather too well, and the cream jacket that completed his ensemble, gave him a wholesome, faintly boy next door air.

“Well…” she said slowly, tilting her head as she considered him, “that depends.”

“On what, exactly?” he asked, clearly amused now.

“On what you’re singing,” she replied, her gaze still assessing him in a way that she would later realise was perhaps a little too thorough. “If you told me you were about to start belting out Highway to Hell, I’d say no, absolutely not. You’d be wildly unconvincing.”

He chuckled. “Not got the heavy rock vibe, then?”

“Definitely not,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t believe it for a second.”

“And what would I be convincing as?” he prompted.

“James Blunt,” she replied, far too quickly, then slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock that she’d said it aloud.

Colin glanced down at himself and winced. “Ouch.”

Penelope let her hand fall slowly, her expression hovering somewhere between horror and resignation.

“That didn’t come out right,” she muttered unhappily.

“No?” Colin challenged, his tone far too innocent to be convincing.

“No,” she replied firmly. “I just meant that you look like you’d suit something…I don’t know…a bit more…”

“Blah?” he supplied helpfully.

“No,” she objected swiftly. “I was going to say…earnest.”

“Really?” he countered with a quirk of his brow. “Because that sounds so much better.”

“I’m sorry, he was the just first person that came to mind,” she grumbled defensively, then grimaced. “Which, admittedly, is not helping my case.”

“Not especially, no,” he agreed, though he was smiling now in a way that suggested he was enjoying this far more than he should.

Penelope groaned and ran a hand through her shoulder-length red hair, ruffling her curls.

“I’m really not having the best evening, am I?” she said on a dejected sigh.

Colin’s smile softened, the teasing edge melting into something a little warmer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly as though considering it properly. “You’ve certainly made quite an impression.”

She shot him a sceptical look. “That sounds like a very kind way of saying I’ve embarrassed myself repeatedly.”

“I didn’t say it was a good impression,” he remarked dryly, and she let out a quiet laugh despite herself.

Before she could come up with a suitable retort, the voice called again from the stage, louder this time and with far less patience.

“Colin! We’re waiting!”

“Just a sec!” he snapped in frustration as he glanced back over his shoulder. He turned to Penelope once more and gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry, I’d better go,” he said, gesturing toward the stage.

She nodded quickly, pushing down the disappointment of their time ending.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “I should probably find my sisters anyway.”

Colin dipped his head in agreement. “Right. Yeah, they’re probably wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

“Doubtful,” she snorted derisively before she could stop herself.

Colin raised a brow at that, a faint question in his eyes which she refused to answer. There was no need to go down that dysfunctional rabbit hole.

Realising that she wasn’t going to expand further, he cleared his throat and shot her a faintly hesitant smile.

“Well…if you don’t find them, maybe you could hang around and listen to me instead?” he suggested hopefully.

Penelope caught the flicker of uncertainty in his expression and bit back a smile, something warm and giddy unfurling in her chest. It seemed, quite surprisingly, that she might not be the only one feeling a little off-balance.

“Maybe,” she finally allowed with a deliberately careless shrug.

Colin’s eyes narrowed as he took that in, his hesitation slipping away almost immediately as his confidence slid back into place. He smirked as he realised exactly what she was doing.

“Come on, Penelope. I mean, it’s only fair,” he reasoned matter-of-factly. “You can’t concuss a man and question his entire musical identity in the same evening and then leave before he’s had a chance to defend himself.”

She laughed before she could stop herself and shook her head.

“You haven’t got concussion,” she dismissed blithely.

“No?” he questioned. “I must be light-headed for another reason then.”

She drew in a breath. His words were teasing, but his eyes held a sudden heat in them that caught her completely off guard.

Her smile faltered just a fraction, suddenly far more aware of how close he was and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

But then…

“Colin!”

The call came again, louder this time, edged with impatience.

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, the moment breaking as quickly as it had formed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he called back, before looking at her again, an apology in his eyes now.

Penelope summoned a small smile, the tension easing just enough for her to find her voice again.

“Go,” she said, with a small nod toward the stage. “I’ll see if I can find a seat.”

For a second, he simply looked at her and then his expression changed entirely. His eyes lit up and a grin broke across his face that was warmer, brighter and far less restrained than anything she had seen from him so far.

“Great,” he enthused, clearly pleased. “And if you stay for the set, perhaps we can discuss my musical identity when I’m finished…if you want to, that is?”

“I do,” she replied, before she could think too much about it.

His expression softened again at that, though the grin didn’t fade.

“Good,” he said. That’s…good.”

He turned to go then and Penelope remained where she was for a moment, watching him.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, offering quick nods and half-smiles to those who called out to him. Clearly this was a regular gig for him and he was popular if the crowd gathered there was anything to go by.

He stopped briefly to speak to the man that been calling him and then he stepped up onto the small, raised dais, reaching instinctively for the guitar case waiting beside the stool.

Becoming aware of the fact that she was still standing exactly where he had left her, she glanced around and saw a small table off to the side. Luckily, a couple were just leaving and she hurried over to claim it.

As she sat down, she briefly regretted not having thought to get a drink first, though it was quickly forgotten when she looked back to the stage. Colin was adjusting the strap of his guitar, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on her, a small smile forming when he found her.

She smiled back then he turned to the crowd and reached for the microphone, tapping it lightly.

“Alright?” he said, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the surrounding noise.

A few voices answered back, someone letting out an enthusiastic cheer that drew another smile from him as he settled onto the stool and positioned the guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings a couple of times and adjusted his grip, then his gaze lifted to her again, just for a moment, before he looked away and returned his attention fully to the instrument.

There was a pause where the chatter died down and then he began to play.

He was good.

Better than she’d expected.

There was a roughness to his voice she hadn’t anticipated either, it was a little deeper, a little less polished - far from the James Blunt of it all she’d accused him of being.

The song came to an end, the last note lingering for a beat before the room broke into applause. She joined in enthusiastically, a huge grin spreading across her face as she clapped.

On the stage, Colin looked over at her and grinned back.

For a moment, it felt as though it was just the two of them.

Then he ducked his head slightly, still smiling to himself as he started his next song, the crowd quietening once more.

The rest of the set passed far too quickly after that. Each song seemed better than the last, until she lost track of time entirely, her attention fixed solely on him.

She loved his music.

She loved his voice.

She loved…

She shook her head. That was ridiculous, they’d only just met.

And yet…that didn’t seem to matter, because in her heart she just knew.

She was never, ever going to forget him.

Present Day…

“You made me feel like the one”

“Colin Bridgerton: The Overnight Sensation Years In The Making.”

“From Open Mics To The Charts: A Songwriter’s Quiet Persistence Pays Off”

“The One Everyone’s Talking About: Meet The Voice Behind The Year’s Biggest Song”

“Is The One Personal? Colin Bridgerton Says ‘People Can Take What They Want From It.”

“Singer Shuts Down Rumours Of Real-Life Inspiration Behind Hit Track”

The headlines blurred together after a while.

Colin stared at them, a thumb hovering over the screen as if one of them might suddenly say something different if he looked long enough. They all sounded certain. Neat. Packaged. Like the story had already been decided for him.

Overnight success.

Breakout hit.

Mystery muse.

He let out a quiet breath and dropped his phone onto the bedside table.

It was strange, really. Four years of playing to pubs and half-empty rooms, of sticky floors and borrowed mics, of people talking over him like he was just part of the background and now suddenly, everyone was listening.

All because of one song.

A song he hadn’t even meant to send to the music label.

He ran a hand through his hair, already feeling the familiar pull at the edges of his thoughts, the one that had been there since he woke. It had started small, just a flicker of something half-remembered, but it didn’t stay that way. It never did.

A laugh.

The warmth of sun on skin.

Grass, bright and impossibly green.

Her.

It hit him properly then, like it always did when he let it. Like no time had passed at all.

Penelope.

He closed his eyes briefly, the name settling somewhere deep in his chest, equal parts tender and painful.

Four years.

And still…

He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Outside, the world carried on exactly as it had yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since she’d disappeared without a word.

He’d told himself, enough times to almost believe it, that it hadn’t meant the same to her. That it couldn’t have, not if she’d been able to leave like that. Not if she hadn’t even said goodbye.

That it had just been a summer.

A fleeting thing, nothing more.

His gaze flicked back to his phone, to the glowing screen still littered with headlines, all of them trying to turn that summer into something tidy.

Something finished.

But they didn’t know.

They didn’t know that he still remembered the exact way she’d smiled at him like he was someone worth choosing.

That he still heard her laugh sometimes, out of nowhere, making him turn to see if she was really there.

That every version of moving on had felt…slightly off. Like something hadn’t quite clicked into place since.

Because it wasn’t finished. Not really. Not in his head at least.

Certainly not in his heart.

He reached for his coffee, now gone lukewarm, and downed it anyway, grimacing faintly as he swallowed. He needed to get ready. Another interview. Another day of being asked the same questions. Another day of giving the same evasive answers.

Not for the first time he wished he hadn’t written the damn thing. It had simply been a catharsis. A way to get everything out so that he could try and move on properly. Maybe even forget.

Instead, because of his stupid mistake, it had done the opposite.

An alarm sounded on his phone reminding him to get going and he pushed himself to his feet with a grimace. Crossing the hotel room, he opened the curtains and looked out over the street below. People were already beginning their day, going about their business. His gaze drifted over them and beyond until it settled on the small park across the road.

A patch of green, half-hidden between buildings, bright in the morning light.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring, remembering another time…another place.

Four years ago…

“Laying back, head on the grass”

The long grass shifted softly beneath them as they both lay back, the warmth of the day still hanging in the air.

Colin stretched out beside Penelope, one arm tucked behind his head, but his attention didn’t stay there for long. It drifted, inevitably, back to her.

She looked a little uncertain at first, like she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself, one hand pressed flat against the ground, the other resting lightly on her stomach. It made him smile.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

She slowly turned her head toward him and gave him a considering look.

“Yeah,” she said, after a beat. “I think so.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“I am,” she insisted, her own smile tugging at her mouth. “I just don’t usually lie in fields with near-strangers.”

“Near-strangers?” he repeated in mock indignance. “I think that’s a little unfair.”

She glanced at him. “Is it?”

“Yes! We’ve seen each other a few times this week,” he pointed out. “That has to count for something.”

“In the pub,” she retorted. “Where you’re technically working.”

“Not every time,” he replied. “Admit it, you came for the songs and stayed for my charming company.”

That made her smile, though she tried to hide it, her gaze drifting back up to the cloudless sky.

“Fine,” she said after a moment, “I suppose we’re…acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” he repeated, testing the word and finding it lacking. “I think we can do better than that.”

“Oh?” she said, glancing back at him. “What would you suggest?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to where her hand rested in the grass beside her before he looked back up again.

“Friends,” he said, a little more carefully now. “At the very least.”

Penelope considered him for a moment, her expression softening just slightly.

“I think I like that.”

He hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted her to agree until she did, and his answering smile came readily. “Good,” he said.

For a moment, neither of them spoke again, as they simply lay there listening to the faint buzzing of a busy bee and melodic sounds of birds singing in nearby trees.

Her hand shifted slightly in the grass, brushing against his by accident and he felt a spark of awareness that made his breath catch slightly.

Neither of them moved away, but he couldn’t quite ignore her beside him. When she tipped her head back to look at the sky, he found himself watching her instead. The way her copper curls glowed in the late afternoon light, the dusting of freckles over her petite nose, the rounded curve of her cheek.

“It’s nice here,” she said.

He couldn’t agree more. “It is.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes.” He paused. “More, lately.”

She turned her head then, looking at him properly. “Why?”

He shrugged and looked up at the sky, keeping his tone light. “It’s quiet. No one expects anything of me here.”

He heard it as soon as he said it. That slight edge beneath the words, and he found he wasn’t surprised that she’d caught it too.

“And everywhere else they do?” she asked softly.

His laugh came out sharper than he intended. “Something like that.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was trying to make sense of him.

“Well,” she said eventually, “for what it’s worth, I don’t.”

His heart stuttered and he turned his head fully then, meeting her gaze. “No?”

“No,” she confirmed without hesitation.

He continued to stare at her, wondering if she had any idea how much he needed to hear that.

“Careful,” he finally murmured, “I might start believing you.”

She smiled at him as her cheeks pinkened slightly. “I don’t think that would be such a terrible thing.”

Colin smiled back slowly, watching as she shifted beside him and looked away first.

“Do you always bring girls here?” she asked suddenly, her tone light as she picked at a blade of grass between her fingers.

He blinked, taken by surprise at the unexpected question.

“No.” She glanced at him again, just in time to catch the smile that pulled at his mouth. “Just you, actually.”

He heard the way her breath caught at that, quick and sharp, before she covered it with a slightly forced laugh.

“Well,” she said, attempting composure and not entirely succeeding, “While I’m flattered, it’s an awful lot of pressure. What if I turn out to be terrible company?”

“I think I’m happy to take that risk,” he replied quietly.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself, though he could see the colour rising in her cheeks again.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Her hand was still there, fidgeting in the space between them. He hesitated a moment before letting his fingers shift slightly, brushing against hers.

When she didn’t pull away, he let his hand cover hers properly and laced their fingers loosely together.

He glanced at her then, checking to see if it was okay.

She didn’t look back at him; her gaze had lifted to the sky again. But the gentle squeeze of her hand, the soft smile still lingering at the corner of her mouth and the flush on her face told him all he needed to know.

And that was enough.

Present Day…

“So take a look at me now”

The room was quieter than most of the places Colin had been dragged through in the last few weeks, though not by much. There was still the low hum of equipment, the faint rustle of movement somewhere just out of sight, the careful, contained energy of people trying not to interrupt.

He sat opposite the interviewer with a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched, one hand resting loosely on the arm of the chair, the other curled around the edge of the mug.

“So,” she began, glancing briefly at her notes before looking back up at him, her expression open and curious in a way he had come to recognise, “I think we have to start with the obvious. Your new song, The One, is an astounding success. It’s everywhere. When you wrote it, did you have any idea what a hit you had on your hands?”

Colin smiled slightly and shook his head.

“No,” he replied honestly, because there was no point pretending otherwise. “Not really.”

“Not even a little?”

He shook his head again and shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.

“I didn’t…” He hesitated, searching for words that didn’t immediately sound like a deflection. “It wasn’t written for that.”

“For what?”

“For all this,” he explained, gesturing vaguely, encompassing the room, the cameras, the attention.

The interviewer studied him for a second.

“Then what was it written for?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged, briefly considering giving her the usual answer he’d been trotting out. The one that kept things simple. Some rubbish about timing and inspiration. About writing what felt right in the moment.

But he was exhausted.

Not just physically, though that too. It was the rest of it. The noise. The attention. Being asked the same question over and over again and giving the same answer back, as if he said it enough times it might become true.

Keeping it separate. Keeping it contained. Acting like it hadn’t meant what it had.

He didn’t want to do that anymore.

“I think I just needed to get it out of my head,” he finally confessed with a sigh.

“Oh?” she queried, sitting up a little, clearly more interested now. “Something…specific?”

His mouth curved faintly, though there was very little humour in it.

“Someone,” he corrected.

Four Years Ago…

“Sleeping in the back of my car”

The road stretched out ahead of them, quiet and mostly empty at that time of evening, the last of the daylight long gone.

Penelope glanced out of the window, then back at him.

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”

Colin smiled, eyes still on the road.

“Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“How do you know if I like surprises?” she teased. “Maybe I’m like the Hulk and get all big and green and smash things up if I don’t like it.”

“First of all, when you say big, I think you mean normal sized,” he countered, earning a gasp of outrage that made him smile. “And second of all, green goes with your hair, so you’d still look gorgeous.”

Penelope stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment, then laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

He glanced over at her, and even in the low glow of the dashboard lights he could see the colour in her cheeks. He found, not for the first time, that he rather enjoyed being the cause of it.

He slowed the car not long after, turning off the main road onto a long drive lined with tall trees. In the distance, lights glowed softly from a large house, though he turned away before they drew too close, steering instead down a narrower gravel lane.

Penelope straightened slightly, her attention shifting as the trees began to thin and the space ahead opened up.

A lake appeared before them, dark and still beneath the night sky, the surface catching the moonlight in soft, scattered glints.

The gravel crunched softly beneath the tyres before he brought it to a stop near the edge. He cut the engine and the quiet that followed settled around them almost instantly.

For a moment, she just stared.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice quieter now, like the stillness of the place had seeped into it.

Colin glanced over at her, then out at the water again.

“One of my favourite places,” he said.

She shifted slightly in her seat, looking past him towards the darker outline of the house just visible through the trees in the distance.

“Are we allowed to be here?” she asked, a small note of uncertainty creeping in. “Or are we about to get chased off for trespassing?”

“No, we’re allowed,” he assured her with a brief smile. She looked back at him, waiting, and he let out a soft sigh before admitting a little reluctantly, “It…uh…belongs to my family.”

Her brows lifted at that, her gaze flicking once more towards the house, then back to the lake.

“Oh,” she said, taking it in with a slight frown. “Right.” She was quiet for a moment then glanced at him again and her expression lightened. “So, is this the surprise?”

Colin relaxed back in his seat, a relieved smile touching his lips. She didn’t seem fazed and the mild apprehension he’d been feeling, eased. There had been a part of him that had wondered whether bringing her here might make things feel different between them.

“Depends,” he replied. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, though there was a hint of amusement there.

“Should I be worried about answering that?”

“Only if you’re planning on turning normal sized and green,” he countered. “I’ve been warned.”

She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the car.

“Bloody cheek,” she scolded lightly, then turned to face him more fully. “And if this is the part where you expect me to be impressed by a big house, then I should warn you, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”

He glanced at her, one brow lifting slightly in curiosity.

“Oh, really?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, clearly biting back a smile. “Although I have to admit that you have managed it once or twice already.”

That visibly caught him off guard.

“Have I?” he asked.

She nodded solemnly, then leaned toward him as though to impart a great secret.

“You ate four burgers in one sitting and didn’t even look uncomfortable,” she confided in a hushed tone. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Colin blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. He couldn’t remember ever meeting someone quite like her before.

“That’s your benchmark?”

“Well, it’s a very specific skill set,” she remarked wryly. “I respect it.”

He shook his head, still grinning.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She chuckled and turned her attention back to the tranquil scene beyond the windscreen. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured on a sigh.

Colin followed her gaze, then reached forward to pull the keys from the ignition.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the water. “There’s a better view.”

She glanced at him, curious, before pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool night air. He quickly followed, taking a moment to go to the boot of the car and pull out a blanket. He folded it over his arm before moving to her side, and as they started down toward the water, his hand found hers.

When her fingers laced with his, it sent a sudden rush through him, stronger than it had any right to be for mere hand holding. It was a feeling he was fast becoming familiar with whenever he was with her.

A feeling that, more and more, he never wanted to be without.

When they reached the bank, Colin reluctantly let her go then shook the blanket out and spread it over the grass. He stepped back slightly to let her sit first and she lowered herself onto it. Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out across the lake.

He joined her a moment later, close enough that their shoulders brushed as he mirrored her position.

They sat like that for a while, the peace around them only broken by the gentle lapping of water and rustle of leaves from the breeze that rolled across the lake.

After a time, Penelope tipped her head back and stared up at the inky sky.

“You ever think about what your life will be like?” she asked softly. “In the future I mean.”

“Sometimes,” he replied, matching her tone. “I want to carry on with my music. See how far I can go.” He turned his head then, his gaze settling on her. The breeze lifted strands of her copper hair, and the moonlight caught on her pale skin, lighting it just enough for him to see her face. He swallowed hard. “What about you?” he murmured huskily.

She was silent a moment and then, “I want to write. Properly. Not just for uni. A book. Something that’s mine.”

“Then you will,” he told her assuredly.

“It’s not that simple,” she scoffed lightly.

“Why not?”

She glanced at him and exhaled slowly. “Because sometimes you don’t get to choose what happens next.”

He was quiet for a moment, taking that in. She had alluded to things not being the best in her home life and he suspected those problems were behind her words now.

“Maybe not,” he began carefully, “But if you want to write, you will. You’ll find a way.”

Her brows rose. “You sound very sure.”

“I am,” he told her confidently.

She looked at him then, a little more searching. “How do you know?”

“Because it’s you,” he replied simply, willing her see herself as he did. “I believe you can do whatever you set that brilliant mind of yours to.” He shook his head slightly as a small wondrous smile lit up his face. “I think you’re amazing, Pen.”

He heard her breath catch at his words and, for a moment, she just looked at him, eyes wide.

Then she moved.

His heart stuttered in his chest, everything in him tightening as anticipation flooded his system so quickly it left him momentarily still. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just watched as she paused inches from him, her mouth slightly parted, pupils blown wide, a question burning in her eyes.

He answered it without hesitation, leaning in and closing the last of the distance between them, eyes sliding shut as his lips finally met hers for the first time.

Soft. That was his first thought. Her lips were even softer than he’d imagined. That was closely followed by the realisation that if he'd ever kissed anyone before, he couldn't remember it. There was only Penelope now. Nothing else could compare.

His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb settling tenderly against her cheek as their noses brushed, not quite lining up at first. He let out the faintest huff of laughter against her mouth when they both pulled back. Just a little. Just enough to smile at each other until Penelope shifted a fraction closer and kissed him again.

She placed a tentative hand against his chest before sliding higher, her nails catching lightly against his neck as her fingers curled into the collar of his t-shirt, drawing an involuntary shudder of desire from him.

Instinctively, he moved as well, his hand slipping from her cheek into her hair, fingers threading through her copper curls before settling at the back of her head, holding her there as he deepened their kiss.

Penelope’s grip tightened slightly, and he felt it again, another quiet shiver running through him, before he edged closer, angling his head, chasing the heat of her mouth when she moaned against him.

They broke apart only for a breath, foreheads brushing, neither of them willing to pull too far away.

Vaguely he registered that the air was cooler than before, the once faint breeze stirring around them.

His lips hovered there for a second, close enough to feel her breath, and then he leaned in again, just as a cold drop of water landed on his cheek.

He stilled.

Another splattered onto Penelope’s nose, and she flinched slightly, pulling back in surprise.

“Is that…?”

A second later, the skies opened up and rain began to fall.

Colin gasped at the sudden cold shower, glancing upward before looking back at her, still far too close, still holding her.

“Brilliant timing,” he grumbled.

Penelope grinned, but the rain was already catching in her hair now, dampening the curls at her temples, and he watched her eyes widen as a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

“We’re going to get soaked,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, though neither of them made a move to go.

Then a sudden flash of lightning split across the sky, lighting up the space around them, and this time he did pull back, catching her hand instead.

“Come on,” he urged, reaching for the blanket.

They made it back to the car just as the rain properly set in, drumming loudly on the roof. They climbed into the back and pulled the miraculously, relatively dry blanket around them in an attempt to stay warm.

It was tight in the back seat, not that they cared as they huddled up together in their own little world.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Penelope’s hair was wet now, her curls pulling tighter, her lips reddened from their kisses, her azure blue eyes sparkling.

He swallowed hard - she was breathtaking.

Unable to stop himself, he closed the distance between them. She met him halfway and soon their kisses grew more heated, their touches more intimate.

Penelope’s hand roamed over his chest and down to his waist, then slid around to his backside, fingers squeezing as she tried to press closer to him.

The contact pulled a low, involuntary groan from him, his grip tightening on her thigh as he moved suddenly and eased her down onto her back, the warmth of her body seeping through her damp clothes and straight into him.

He was in heaven. She was all plush curves writhing beneath him as he tore his mouth from hers and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. His heart sang when her arms came around him and she arched up against him.

He traced the hem of her top then slipped his hand under, his body hardening even more when his fingers brushed against the softness of her stomach, then higher…

She inhaled sharply as his thumb grazed just beneath the edge of her bra, then again a bit firmer, enough to feel the shape of her, and draw a breathy moan out of her that nearly did him in.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to stop before they went much further. He wanted more than just a quick fumble in the back of a car. He needed to know if she felt as he did. That he wasn’t alone in this connection that they’d been building over the past couple of weeks. He would find it difficult enough to walk away now if she didn’t, but it’d be much worse if she allowed him to know her completely.

He stilled, his breathing uneven as he tried to rein in his emotions, and for a second - just a second - he let himself stay there. Let himself feel it, the way she pressed into him, the way her hand was clutching at his hair now, the way it would be so, so easy not to stop…

Reluctantly, he pulled back a little.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, a slightly breathless laugh escaping him as took in her flushed cheeks and parted lips. “You’re not helping my self-control.”

For a second, she just looked at him and then she laughed, low and warm.

“I should hope not,” she murmured, lightly tugging on his hair.

That also didn’t help.

If anything, it made it worse.

He exhaled and shook his head slightly, still not quite able to put any real distance between them.

“I just…” he started, then stopped, an almost sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “I like you, Pen,” he confessed, softly. “Really like you.” Her eyes widened a little and he glanced away quickly before meeting her eyes again, a touch of self-consciousness creeping in now as he rushed out, “And I don’t…I mean, we’re not doing it in the back of a car. Not like this.”

There was a beat where her eyes widened even more and then her mouth curved, just slightly, as though she was fighting back a smile.

“After touching my boob, you’re now trying to be a gentleman?” she blinked at him incredulously.

He gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh.

“I’m trying to do this properly, yes.”

She tilted her head slightly, the grin she’d been holding back blooming on her face.

“So, does that mean that you wish to court me, good Sir?” she teased, slipping into an overly refined accent and sounding for all the world like a debutante from another century.

That did something to him.

He squirmed a little and felt warmth flooding his cheeks.

“I thought I had been,” he retorted, a touch defensively, though it didn’t quite hide the way her words had affected him.

She giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“You have,” she assured him, gently running a hand through his hair. “And you’re doing a fantastic job…Mr. Bridgerton.”

Colin groaned and she full on laughed this time. She knew what she was doing. He pushed himself up off her and sat back, then reached for her hand.

“Come here, you,” he muttered as he helped her sit up, tugging the blanket back over them both.

She settled into his side without hesitation, and his arm came around her, pulling her in closer. With a soft sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder, her arm slipping about his waist.

They stayed like that, wrapped around each other as their breathing gradually slowed, little by little.

For a while they remained silent, simply staring out of the window, where the rain ran in soft rivulets down the glass, the lake beyond lit now and then by a distant flash of lightning.

“I really don’t want to go back yet,” she admitted after a moment, her voice quieter now.

He glanced down at her.

“You don’t have to.”

She smiled up at him and he captured her lips in a brief kiss before looking back outside at the summer storm drifting across the lake.

Every so often, Penelope would tilt her head up, brushing her mouth against his in soft, lingering kisses. He met her each time, his hand finding hers, or her hair, or simply holding her closer.

Eventually, though, her movements slowed.

He felt it first in the way her hand stilled against his chest, then in the quiet shift of her breathing as it deepened, evening out as sleep overtook her.

He smiled, his head resting lightly against hers and somewhere in the space between one breath and the next, as he drifted off himself, the thought came, simple and certain.

He was in love with her.

Present Day…

“Thinking back, thinking of you”

Colin took a sip of his coffee and savoured the bitter taste as it slid down his throat. Across from him the interviewer eyed him for a moment as though deciding what to ask next. He waited. He might have finally opened the door to his past but he still wasn’t in any great rush to step through it.

“Would you tell me her…or his, name if I asked?” she finally settled on.

Colin snorted and shook his head

“No.”

She nodded, a wry smile touching her lips, as though she’d expected that answer.

“Alright, then can I ask if it was recent?”

“It wasn’t,” he told her abruptly, then had another drink.

Her brows lifted slightly.

“So…how long?”

He didn’t answer immediately, not wanting to let her know the exact amount of time he’d wasted pining after a woman that clearly hadn’t felt the same.

“A while,” he admitted at last.

Her head tilted a little and he felt himself start to bristle under her sympathetic scrutiny.

“I see. And this person,” she ventured quietly, “were they aware? At the time?”

“Yes,” he said at first, almost reflexively. “No. Maybe.” He shook his head more to himself than to her. “I don’t know anymore.”

The honesty of it hung there, a little at odds with everything else he’d said so carefully until now.

The interviewer stared at him a moment, clearly not expecting that.

“That sounds…complicated,” she concluded wryly.

Colin’s mouth lifted up into a faintly derisive smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Four Years Ago…

“I don’t know where we are going now”

“What happens when I leave?”

Penelope hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the thought had been circling her mind for days now, growing louder the closer the end of her holiday crept.

Colin opened his eyes, looking up at her from where his head rested in her lap, his expression shifting in quiet surprise.

“What?”

She swallowed, her fingers stilling briefly in his hair before she forced herself to keep moving, smoothing it back from his forehead.

“Nothing. I just…this is ending soon. I’m going back to uni. You’re going back to London. We’re both going back to our real lives.”

“You don’t think this is real life?” he asked, frowning slightly.

She looked away, out across the stretch of field, the breeze moving softly through the grass around them and shook her head slightly before gazing back down at him.

“That’s not what I meant.” He didn’t say anything, just watched her. “This is real,” she assured him, “I just…it’s easy here. It’s just us. No expectations, no…complications.”

“And you think that changes when we’re not here anymore?” he asked.

She gave a small shrug, “Doesn’t it?”

“Not if we don’t want it to,” he replied, sitting up to face her.

She stared at him incredulously.

“But how would that even work, Colin?” she asked with a hint of frustration. “You’ll be concentrating on your music. Working gigs. It’s not something you can do halfway.”

“I know that,” he retorted, dampening down a flicker of irritation. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper.

“And I’ve got my final year,” she continued as though he’d not spoken. “It’s not like I can just ignore that either.”

He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a second before returning to her, jaw tensing.

“So what then?” he asked tersely, already dreading the answer. “We just go our separate ways and never see each other again? Is that what you want?”

She blinked at that, the sharpness of it catching her off guard. “I never said that.”

“Then what are you saying, Penelope?” he pressed, his voice rising slightly.

She looked away this time, her fingers twisting together in her lap.

“I’m saying we haven’t known each other very long,” she replied matching his abrupt tone as she turned to face him again.

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“It’s been long enough for me,” he told her flatly.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then her expression softened.

“Colin…” she murmured, reaching for his hand…

“Pen! Colin!”

Eloise’s voice carried across the field, bright and unmistakable and Colin swore under his breath. He’d completely forgotten that they’d arranged to meet his sister for a walk. He’d introduced them the week before, when she and Benedict had turned up unannounced at the pub to watch his set.

Eloise had taken to Penelope immediately. Like she always did when she found someone she liked. No hesitation, no filter. Just instant, effortless connection. And he’d been pleased that Penelope liked her just as much too.

Now though, it was an annoyance he could well do without.

Penelope’s hand had stilled where it’d been halfway to his, faint exasperation flickering across her face before she smoothed it away.

He took some comfort from that at least. Perhaps she was as annoyed with the interruption as him.

“We’d better go,” he stated, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand to her.

She took it and let him pull her up, her free hand landing on his chest as she steadied herself. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gave him a tentative smile.

He returned it, not quite as easily, but it helped release some of the tension in him all the same.

They still had time.

They could talk about it properly later.

Present day…

“Wake-up call, coffee and juice”

Colin tapped his thumb lightly against the side of his cup, the movement almost absent-minded, the soft clink of his ring against the ceramic loud in the silence. Across from him, the interviewer made a brief note, the scratch of her pen the only other sound between them.

It wasn’t until she paused and glanced up, her gaze dropping briefly to his hand, that he realised he was doing it.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stilling the movement and setting the mug down in front of him.

“Can I get you anything else?” someone asked as they passed. “Another coffee? Biscuits?”

He shook his head and gave them a brief smile.

“No, I’m good.”

The interviewer glanced up again, giving him a thoughtful look before setting her pen aside.

“So, was that how it ended? You went your separate ways after all?” she asked.

Colin leaned back in his chair, considering that for a moment.

“In a way, I suppose,” he replied slowly. “Although it didn’t really end. It just…stopped.”

The interviewer frowned.

“Stopped? So, you never talked?”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“Never had the chance.”

Four years ago…

“What happened to you?”

Colin missed his cue.

It was only by a second, barely enough for anyone else to notice, but he realised it immediately, his voice coming in slightly off beat before he fudged it over. Across the room, Benedict’s brows lifted in faint question, and Colin forced himself back into the song, his voice steady enough when he came in again.

He hadn’t been able to relax all day.

It wasn’t anything obvious at first, just a restlessness he couldn’t quite shake, a sense that something wasn’t right, though he couldn’t have said what. True, he hadn’t heard from Penelope at all, but that wasn’t completely unusual when they were meeting in the evening.

She hadn’t, however, gone and stood him up before.

Until now.

His gaze kept drifting toward the door between songs, pulled there almost obsessively, waiting for her to appear.

But she didn’t.

Penelope was never late. If anything, she made a point of being early. Her unhappy relationship with her family was the main reason for that, he knew. She didn’t want to be around them any longer than absolutely necessary.

Over the last few weeks, he’d grown used to it without really noticing. To walking in and finding her already there waiting, her face lighting up the moment she saw him.

He’d been expecting to find her there tonight.

They’d arranged to meet. She’d even confirmed it the evening before after she’d been out visiting relatives in the area with her sisters and mum. He knew she hadn’t been looking forward to spending so much time with them, but it hadn’t been too bad, she’d said. There had only been a couple of digs that’d really stung from what he’d gathered.

That was a couple too many as far as he was concerned.

He glanced over at the door again as he shifted his leg to prop his guitar a little higher.

Maybe she’d been delayed. Maybe something had come up. Maybe she’d appear halfway through his next song, slipping in quietly, offering him a smile that would make this ever-increasing vice around his heart, ease.

He kept hoping.

Even as the set went on. Even as the room filled and emptied around him. Even as his focus kept slipping, his stomach churning again and again until it became impossible to ignore.

By the time he finished, he felt physically sick.

He stepped back from the mic to generous applause, barely registering it, already reaching for his phone.

Nothing.

No message. No missed call.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering before he typed out a quick message.

‘Everything okay?’

Sent.

He watched it deliver, waited a beat, then another, before locking the phone with a quiet exhale. He told himself that she wouldn’t be looking at it because she was probably already on her way.

He picked up his guitar and packed it away with practised ease, though his attention kept straying. Once done, he headed over to join Eloise and Benedict at their table.

“I thought Penelope was meant to be here?” his sister declared before he’d even sat down.

“She was,” he retorted, already pulling his phone back out. “We spoke last night.”

He didn’t hesitate this time and hit call. It rang once then went straight to voicemail. He frowned and pulled the phone away slightly, staring at it as if it had betrayed him.

He tried again, getting the same result and his swirling nausea kicked up a notch.

“Try yours,” he ordered, looking at his sister.

Usually, Eloise wasn’t one to do as she was told, but she must have seen something in his eyes because she picked up her phone and did as he bade without a word.

They listened as it went to voicemail and she glanced up at him, her expression tightening slightly.

“Maybe there’s a fault or something,” she suggested quietly.

“Or maybe there’s no signal?” Benedict offered reasonably.

Colin looked at his siblings and nodded.

“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, although he didn’t believe it for one second.

Something was wrong, he knew it. Could feel it in his gut and in his heart.

He pushed to his feet before he’d even realised what he was doing, the movement abrupt enough that Eloise blinked up at him.

“I’m just going to…” He gestured vaguely toward the door searching for the right word. Was there one that didn’t make him sound completely ridiculous, given what he was actually thinking? He settled on, “…check.”

“I’ll come with you,” Eloise announced, already reaching for her coat.

He didn’t bother trying to dissuade her, he didn’t have time. The air outside was cooler than he expected, yet the shock of it did nothing to quell that horrible, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

They didn’t speak as they walked to his car and the quiet left too much room for his thoughts, which kept circling the same points over and over. Each attempt at logic was met with the same answer…

If something had changed, she would have told him - wouldn’t she?

He drove without really registering the route, the familiar turns passing in a blur as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Before he knew it, they arrived at her street and he slowed automatically, the habit so ingrained he didn’t even think about it.

He always stopped here, Penelope insisted on it. He’d objected to that at first. Didn’t like the idea of just dropping her off at the end of the road and leaving her, but she’d not wanted to have to answer to her family and so he’d eventually relented. Only on the proviso that he watched her walk the rest of the way and waited until she was safely inside, though.

Now, as he sat there like so many other nights before, engine idling, he frowned.

The house was dark.

No lights. No car. Nothing to suggest anyone was there at all.

For a minute, he just stared.

“Looks like no one’s home,” Eloise pointed out beside him.

“I can see that,” he replied tersely.

Silence followed as he felt panic begin to rise. The dread that he’d been desperately trying to keep at bay becoming harder to ignore.

He pressed his foot on the accelerator and carried on up the road until he reached the house, his eyes fixed on the front door as though looking long enough might change something. He turned off the engine.

“Colin…”

“I won’t be a sec,” he said, already reaching for the handle.

“Colin, it’s late…”

But he was already out, the gravel crunching under his feet as he marched across the driveway.

He knocked and waited.

Nothing.

He knocked again, harder this time, the sound echoing out into the stillness and coming back empty.

Still nothing.

He stepped back slightly, glancing up at the dark windows, his heart aching as a sinking realisation hit him that couldn’t be reasoned away anymore.

“Colin.” Eloise was beside him now, laying a hand on his arm. “There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

He didn’t move.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered more to himself than to her.

“I know,” Eloise said gently. “Look, we’ll come back in the morning. If something’s wrong, we’ll figure it out then.”

He stood there for another moment, staring at the door, waiting for something, anything, to break the stillness.

It didn’t.

The quiet pressed in around him, too complete, too final, and suddenly it was harder to breathe properly, his chest tightening without warning.

This wasn’t right.

It wasn’t.

His mind began to turn over itself, grasping for something that made sense, replaying the last few days in disjointed fragments.

He just didn’t understand.

Talking the night before she’d sounded normal. Nothing off. Nothing that should have led to this.

Had he missed something?

Had she tried to tell him and he hadn’t seen it?

A thought suddenly hit, sharp and unwelcome.

Or worse, had he imagined it? All of it?

The way she’d looked at him. The way she’d responded. Their laughter. Their friendship, even?

He’d thought…

He’d been so sure…

He closed his eyes and made himself draw in a breath, then let it out slowly.

Don’t.

“Yeah,” he finally agreed, though the word sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

He forced himself to turn away, to step back from the door, but the feeling didn’t ease, didn’t lessen with distance.

How could it?

Not when is gut was telling him the one thing he didn’t want to believe.

That he might have lost her.

Present Day…

“Talk about life since then”

The interviewer’s pen hovered for a moment above the page before she looked back up at him, her gaze a little more searching now, like she was trying to decide whether to press or let it go.

“And you never saw them again?”

Colin shook his head.

“No.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

“Did you try and find them?”

He didn’t answer right away, just picked up his cup only to put it down again when he saw he’d finished it. He let out a long sigh, wishing that he’d not started down this road now they were getting to the questions that brought back memories he didn’t like to revisit.

“Yes,” he admitted at last. “At first.” She waited, and he found himself continuing, “I called. A few times.” His gaze dipped briefly before returning to her. “It went straight to voicemail.”

“And after that?”

His jaw tensed as he remembered the sickening feeling he’d had when the tiny sliver of hope he had left had vanished.

“The number stopped working.”

The interviewer’s brows lifted just a fraction.

“So did you try another way?”

Colin’s mouth twitched faintly and he shook his head.

“I didn’t have much to go on,” he admitted reluctantly. “She’d never told me her last name. Never told me much at all when I really thought about it. And when I went back the next day, I found out she and her family had gone.”

“Gone?”

He nodded once. “Family emergency, apparently. That’s what the neighbour said.” The explanation sounded thinner now than it had at the time. “Then I contacted the rental company, but they wouldn’t give me any details, obviously.”

“But at least you knew she was safe and with her family.”

“I suppose,” he replied with another nod. “Yeah.”

“I imagine that wasn’t enough, though.”

Colin shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but falling miserably short. His thoughts churning over the same old ground whenever he let them.

“It had to be,” he said at last.

The interviewer gazed him for a moment, her expression softer now.

“Were you hoping that she might come back?” she asked. “Or try to contact you?”

“Yeah. For a while.”

He didn’t need to say what happened after that.

“And when she didn’t?”

“I figured I had my answer,” he stated, hating the way his voice wavered a little.

“What answer was that?”

He held her gaze, though when he spoke, it still broke whatever was left of his heart a little more to admit.

“That I’d got it wrong. That it hadn’t meant as much to her as it did to me.”

He didn’t feel any bitterness anymore. That had worn away a long time ago. What remained was something else. An emptiness he’d never quite managed to fill.

“And how do you feel now, after all this time?”

“I think my song answers that question,” he scoffed lightly.

That earned a small, knowing smile from her.

“So are you hoping that maybe something will come of it then, if she hears it?”

His stomach dipped. He’d wondered that himself more times than he cared to admit. That one day she might contact him again, because she’d have to know the song was about her, right?

Or perhaps that was exactly why she hadn’t reached out yet.

“I think my only real hope is she knows she mattered,” he told her, a sad smile touching his lips.

She did then. She still does.

And maybe that was enough.

Maybe…he did have his ending after all.

Four Years Ago…

‘Talk about why did it end?’

Penelope had only just fallen asleep when she was jolted awake by a someone shaking her roughly on the shoulder.

“Penelope. Up. Now.”

It took her a second to understand what was going on, caught halfway between sleep and waking, but when she did, she quickly pushed herself up onto her elbows.

“What’s going on?” she gasped, blinking into the dim light.

Portia, her mother, was already moving away. She crossed the room with quick, purposeful strides, pulling open drawers and gathering things without any real care for what they were.

“We’re leaving.”

The words didn’t make sense.

“Leaving?” Penelope repeated in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Now, Penelope.” Her mother didn’t look at her. “Get dressed and pack. Hurry.”

Something in her tone cut through the last of the haze.

Penelope sat up properly, her heart beginning to beat faster without her understanding why.

“What’s happened?”

Portia paused, just for a moment, then drew in a harsh breath and turned to face her.

“Your father is dead.”

Penelope stared at the older woman, her mind completely rejecting her words.

“What?” It came out smaller than she meant it to. “No, he-he was fine, he…”

“There’s been an accident,” her mother cut in abruptly. “We have to go. Tonight.”

Penelope shook her head, the words not sinking in, her mind struggling to piece them together into something that made sense.

Her father was dead.

They were leaving.

Tonight.

“No,” she repeated, the protest automatic, instinctive. “I can’t…I have to…”

“Have to what?” Portia sharply.

Penelope opened her mouth.

Colin.

His name sat right there, but it wouldn’t come out. She’d never spoken about him to her mother and sisters. Not in any meaningful way that made him part of this life instead of something separate, something that only existed outside of it.

He meant too much to her to be dragged into all this.

“I…nothing,” she muttered, looking down.

Her felt her mother’s gaze on her for a second, like she didn’t quite believe it, but thankfully she didn’t press.

“Get dressed,” she ordered her again. “Your sisters are already packing.”

Penelope could hear them now, moving somewhere down the hall, wardrobes opening and closing, voices low and tense.

It made everything feel suddenly real.

Too real.

“I need to send a message,” she said, reaching for her phone without really thinking about it. “Just a minute, I can…”

“There’s no time.”

“I only need…”

“I said no!”

Portia knocked her hand aside, the movement sharp with impatience. The phone jerked from Penelope’s grip, smacking against the corner of the bedside table with a loud crack, before hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud.

Penelope flinched.

For a second, she just stared at it.

Then she quickly scrambled out of bed and grabbed it, pressing the button.

Nothing.

The screen stayed black, a spiderweb of cracks radiating out from one corner where it had struck, spreading further than she’d expected.

“No…” she whispered, pressing it again, harder this time, as if that might bring it back to life.

It didn’t.

“Leave it,” her mother told her, completely unapologetic. “We have to go.”

Penelope stayed there for a moment longer, the broken phone still in her hand, her thoughts caught in a loop she couldn’t seem to break free from.

Then, almost without realising, she pushed herself to her feet.

A strange numbness had already begun to settle in, dulling everything just enough that she could move, even if she didn’t feel like she was fully there.

Her body worked ahead of her mind, reaching for clothes, folding them, putting them into her case with quick, automatic movements, as though that might somehow help her catch up.

It didn’t.

The words kept circling anyway, refusing to stop, refusing to make sense.

And beneath it all, quieter but no less insistent, was the awareness that the one person she really wanted to speak to, she couldn’t.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later when there was a sharp knock at her door.

“Penelope. We’re going.”

“I’m coming,” she said, though her voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

She grabbed her case and stepped out into the hallway. Her sisters were already there, pale and quiet in the low light, their own bags clutched tightly.

No one spoke as they moved toward the front door and went outside. The street was empty save for a neighbour standing under a flickering lamplight across the road, walking their dog.

“Everything alright?” the man called out quietly, his gaze flicking to their luggage.

“Family emergency,” Portia told him, pasting a sad smile on her face.

The neighbour nodded, sympathy quick and automatic.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Penelope barely registered any of it.

None of it felt real.

They reached the car in silence, her mother moving quickly, directing her sisters to put their cases in the boot. Penelope followed without thinking, setting hers down where she was told before climbing into the back seat.

The doors shut one by one.

The engine started.

Then the car pulled out of the drive and headed down the road, the house disappearing out of view almost immediately.

And that was when it hit.

Her throat tightened, her chest ached and before she could do anything about it, the tears began to fall.

She turned her face toward the window, pressing her hand against her mouth, trying to stay silent, trying to keep it contained, but it didn’t matter.

She knew nothing would ever be the same again.

CHAPTER 2