The metal door of the mailbox clangs shut, keeping its contents dry. Gray days where the rain seems never ending. Wish I could have said goodbye. Hopefully the sun comes out tomorrow, she had written on the back of the postcard, the front a dreary day on the coast, brightened only by the red umbrella in the middle.
She runs back to the car, holding the hood of her raincoat tight around her head, and slides into the driver's seat. As the car rumbles back to life, she cranks up the radio. The drums to a familiar tune kick into high gear, filling the car with sound, and Michael Stipe sings about the end of the world for the seventh time that morning.
"And I feel fiiiine."
Emma figures the more times she says it, the closer to the truth she'll get. Maybe. The song draws to an end and she pauses it as she eases the car around another the corner. She has just enough time to move over to the side as she meets another car. After a deep breath, and easing back into her lane, she brings the song back for another spin.
The wipers beat back and forth, competing with the heavy rain while Emma tries to focus on finding the next turn. She's just getting into chorus of the song, tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel when she spots a person ahead, walking on the side of the road. At first, the large backpack is all she sees but as she slows and pulls closer, she makes out a green raincoat and –
"Of fucking course."
She pulls up right beside him, slowing to a crawl, but Killian doesn't seem to notice, focused on keeping his head down against the rain. She rolls to a stop and watches him take a few more steps before she presses down on the horn.
He startles, and her quiet chuckle is tinged with a small bit of satisfaction.
He turns towards the sound and she shakes her head at his wide-eyed gaze.
She eases the car forward and rolls down the window.
"Get in."
He hesitates.
"Is my company that terrible?"
He grips the car door and bends low. The water drips from his hood and down his face, his cheeks are flushed pink from the cool air and it only makes his eyes a brighter blue.
Damn him.
"What?" he asks, raising his voice over the rain and wipers as a look of confusion crosses his face.
She hesitates, he's going to make her say it again, not that he realizes what her question was in the first place. His fingers flex against the ledge. After another shallow breath she finds the courage.
"I said, is my company really that terrible?"
His eyes widen.
"What?! Of course not. Why would you say that?" his words tumble out in a rush. She levels him with an incredulous look before glancing away with a shake of her head. She only looks back what she feels his fingers brush her shoulder.
"You're sure?" he finally asks and she has to roll her eyes.
"Get in, Killian."
He bounces his palm, once, twice on the door and finally comes to a decision.
"Can you pop the boot? My pack is pretty wet," he asks and she quickly complies.
While he stows his things, she drums her fingers on the steering wheel and runs through the possible conversations they could have. She decides on thanking him once again for dinner and will offer to get him to his next destination dry before leaving him alone.
Yes, that's exactly what she'll say.
He slides into the front seat, pulling back his hood. He runs his hands through his hair, making it stand on end before turning to her.
They speak at the same time. "I looked for you this morning." "I'm quite glad to see you again, love."
Emma immediately wants to crawl under her seat. He's just happy for the ride.
Killian gives her a sideways glance before speaking. "I apologize that was quite unacceptable of me, leaving without a - ."
She doesn't need his pity. She interrupts him, "No. Don't. You don't owe me anything, especially not a goodbye. You fed me. This is the least I can do," she rambles filling the silence, attempting to put the car into drive until she feels a hand over hers on the gear shift.
"No, love. It was quite bad form," he pauses and scratches behind his ear and adds on, "again."
His hand returns, warm over hers as his thumb runs back and forth over her knuckles.
She looks up and his gaze is earnest.
"I was going to wait for you this morning."
She slides her eyes away but his grip tightens on her hand.
"I was. I stood outside your door this morning but I just," he trails off and drops his hand to his thighs and rubs it nervously, she watches the movement. "I'm a little broken, Emma, in more ways than one." He motions to his arm with the prosthetic.
Her breath catches but she reaches out to hold his arm above the brace. It appears it's what he needs because his words come out with conviction as he dips his head to catch her gaze.
"But please trust me when I say, I'm absolutely delighted that our paths have crossed once again." His words are confident but softened by his gentle tone. "To see you again," he tacks on quietly.
She's left a little speechless and hopes he doesn't see her hands shake as she put the car into drive but she pauses before easing her foot off the clutch.
He's watching her carefully.
"Good," she finally whispers.
His mouth ticks up and he nods, finally buckling up and facing forward.
"I'm heading to Stranocum, that okay?" she asks when they are finally on the road. She knows it's a little off the main route but the pictures of the Dark Hedges and their feature in one of her favorite shows was reason enough to go, and, "I don't know when or if I'll ever be back. Who knows if I'll ever travel like this again, so I really just wanted to see everything I possibly could," she's rambling and she knows it, but it's only when his hand closes over hers that her words trail off.
"Sounds wonderful."
She watches Killian settles further in his seat out of the corner of her eye and finally allows herself a deep breath before focusing on the road ahead.
xo
"I don't know if you'll ever come across any sheep blocking your way. I think you've watched too many movies, love."
Emma waves Killian off like he doesn't know what he's talking about. He pushes her hand away but chuckles.
After a quiet beginning and some silent wandering around the Dark Hedges, they finally opened up again, finding the cadence of their conversation from the night before. Sometimes teasing, other times curious and but always with an honest pull to know more.
Killian had also been perceptive enough to realize Emma appreciated a little help getting through the multitude of roundabouts.
"We have another coming up, think you can handle this one?" Killian asks before Archie's digital voice can poorly indicate the next set of directions.
Emma bites her lip, eyes glancing at the GPS.
"At the roundabout take the fourth exit."
Emma grips the wheel with determination with one hand while the other hovers over the gearshift.
"I've got you," Killian whispers just before the merge comes into sight and he quickly counts off the exits as she takes the circle. She laughs with the victory of making it through another treacherous route as they hit the straightaway.
"I dare say we make quite the team," Killian declares, settling against the door. She can feel his eyes on her and so she gives a little shrug but she can't hide her pleased smile.
"Perhaps," she offers just as she spots a sign. "Dundrum Castle," she murmurs.
"Shall we go exploring?" he asks, still relaxed against the door, still watching her.
"Well I mean it's not really on the way, we'd be going west only to come back east," she offers nervously, slowing the car and chancing a glance to her side. He simply smiles patiently at her.
She could really get used to that smile. It pulls out one of her own.
"Yeah?"
"Aye."
xo
"So, it really is for capturing all these beautiful sights? Not for peeping on women in the bathroom?" Emma asks leaning up against the car beside Killian as he fiddles with his camera.
He throws her the same exasperated look he'd given her at the first hostel but there's a teasing gleam in his eyes.
"Unless the lady wishes to be photographed," he says with a salacious tone, eyebrows dancing. He lifts the camera up and snaps a picture of her narrowed gaze. "A very beautiful sight, indeed," he offers with a wink.
The blush rises high and quick to Emma's cheeks and she makes a show of dismissing his compliment with a wave of her hand. She stalks off towards the castle grounds hearing the quiet clicks of the shutter behind her. She would be hard pressed to admit it, but a part of her delights in the attention, attention she usually shies away from, always offering to take the pictures, preferring to stay in the background.
The clicks continue in her wake.
She stops and turns. The wind picks up and she struggles to keep her hair out of her face, her long blonde hair tangling and whipping about with the breeze.
Click.
"Are you sure you're not a fairy?" Killian asks, lowering the camera. "Here to enchant me?"
If it all possible, she feels her cheeks heat further as she struggles to maintain her frown.
He lifts his camera again. Waits.
"Killian," she says his name as a warning, looking out towards the sea.
Click.
When she looks back his camera is back at his side.
She studies him. Her eyes focus on the initials on the leather satchel he wears across his chest. She takes a few steps back to him. Her fingers trace the L and J. Her eyes raise in question.
Killian sobers quickly, and Emma can see a whole story unfolding in the moments before he speaks.
"Liam Jones," he finally reveals. Emma tilts her head in question, not trusting her voice, fearing she knows the answer. Killian looks down at the bag. "My brother. This used to belong to him," he says, his voice almost lost to the wind.
It's enough of a revelation for now. Emma's heart squeezes, and she is certain that this is one of his broken pieces he spoke of. She takes his hand; it's warm and solid in hers.
"Come on. Let's explore while the rain holds off. Maybe you can show me how this thing works and then you can model for me."
His smile might not reach his eyes, but there's gratitude in the uptick of his lips and in the way his hand squeezes hers.
"Lead on, fairy Swan," he whispers, and she does, taking them down the sloping rocky knoll towards the ruins and the quiet storied history they hold.
xo
While Killian is taking a few more pictures of the vista below the reaches of the castle, Emma walks over to a man sitting at a little table near the exit. He has a small collection of pictures and postcards and Emma quickly picks out one of Dundrum on a sunnier day.
Killian joins her just as she's paying.
"I hope you'll say nice things about me when you send this off to your friends," he teases as he leans over to glance at the table.
Emma tucks the postcard away and takes in Killian's profile.
"Something like that," she answers while mentally composing the text she will write later. You can still find some rare treasure at Irish castles. Just keep your eyes open; you never know what you might see.
xo
"I'm sorry, we're fully booked for tonight."
Emma stands off to the side watching Killian chat with the owner of the hostel, trying to get a room for himself.
Nothing available. Fully booked. Another goodbye.
"You can stay with me," Emma blurts out.
Oh God.
Killian slowly turns around just as Emma decides it's probably best if she hides from the world. Or at least her eyes. She shields her eyes from his gaze with her hand and looks to the floor. There's a beat and then she sees a pair of sneakered feet before her own.
"Emma."
She doesn't move.
A foot taps hers.
She slowly looks up. He's amused.
"It's ok. As much as I'd rather stay here, I'm sure something down the road has a place for me. We can still have dinner if you wish, possibly check out the little pub we saw on the way in, it doesn't have to be goodbye just -"
"I have four beds," Emma suddenly interrupts him. She doesn't want him to think she invited him into her bed, just her room.
"Pardon?" Killian asks, confusion evident.
The clerk looks over. Emma grabs Killian's arm and pulls him close before mumbling quickly.
"I booked a full room. I booked my whole trip that way," Emma pauses and takes a deep breath. "There's four beds, plenty of space for you, we don't even have to be next to each other. We can sleep on opposite sides." Now she's rambling, oh god, she's definitely rambling. Shut up, Emma, just close your mouth and shut up.
Killian raises one of his eyebrows, a bit of a smirk pulling on his lips.
"Don't give me that look! I know. I'm a ridiculous traveler. I overpack, overreact, don't plan well, and I clearly don't follow hostel etiquette. I'm sure I've committed a number of other travelling faux pas' but I was… I was afraid," Emma's outburst quiets when he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Ok."
Emma's eyes widen.
"Ok?" she asks.
"Well as long as you don't mind me being on the opposite side of the room."
The smirk is back. She rolls her eyes to hide the nervous energy just under her skin.
"I think I can handle it," she throws off and they stare at each other for a beat.
Emma tries to imagine explaining the situation she's found herself in to any of her friends at home and comes up blank. Her friends might not even recognize Emma of Bushmills, County Antrim, Northern Ireland. She certainly doesn't, but she's coming to realize she just might like this version of herself.
With a shake of her head she focuses on the man before her.
"Should we go grab our things?" she asks but doesn't wait for his response, heading towards the exit. She commends herself on her composure, but the smile is automatic when she hears the footfalls behind her.
xo
She feels like a kid at her first slumber party. Not that she's had many. Or any.
And it's been a good long while since she's shared a room with a man, and even then she rarely spent the night. She blinks and allows her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She reads the various names written in pen and marker on the underside of the bunk above her and wonders what their stories are.
Should she add hers and Killian's? She imagines no one could guess their story.
She hears his even breathing and finds comfort in it. She looks over at him in his bunk across the room and can just make out the slow rise and fall of his chest, his mess of black hair. Yes, for once she is finding comfort in not being alone.
xo
She wakes before her alarm, curled on her side, facing the wall. She's almost tempted to pull the covers up a little higher and ignore the sounds of morning around her. She hasn't allowed herself a lazy morning since the trip began, not having the luxury to lie in bed until noon. What's five more minutes, her sleep-addled brain reasons, the alarm will go off soon enough anyway.
It's just as she's slowly dozing off again that the memories of the day before make themselves known.
Killian.
She carefully turns, expecting to see him asleep as well and she nearly smacks her head on the top bunk in her haste to sit up.
His bed is made. His backpack isn't in sight.
He's gone.
Again.
Her throat tightens.
She struggles to untangle her legs from her blankets and stumbles out of bed. She doesn't bother with the fact she's in her pajamas, her first thought is to check if he's really gone, if he's really left her. She rushes to the door, wrenching it open only to find Killian clad in his tiny towel, hand reaching for the doorknob.
"Emma, you're up."
"You're still here."
He pulls back, confusion painted clear across his face. They stare at each other a moment.
"Hey Killian, hey Emma," a guest they'd met at the bar the night before walks by, not appearing to care about their attire or lack thereof.
"Calinda?" Emma whispers.
"Calista?" Killian offers back, brow furrowed but then shakes his head. "Never mind, what were you -" he leaves the question hanging. Emma wants to drop her eyes but she gets waylaid along the way by dark chest hair and that damn tiny towel.
"Honestly," she huffs, shaking her head and gives him a little tug into the room. She closes the door behind them and pushes herself against it, hands behind her back, lest she reach for him again. That doesn't stop his clean soapy scent from washing over her or the thoughts that accompany it.
"Emma. Why did you say that?" Killian pushes, taking a step forward. Emma sighs and lets out a long breath.
"I thought you'd left," she finally admits.
He looks hurt.
"Hey, don't look at me like that."
"I wouldn't, -"
"You have," she interrupts him. She feels small, she feels silly, she – she pushes away from the door to get away from his blue eyes but he reaches out for her with his wrist, careful to keep his hand on the towel. "You wouldn't be the first, I think there's just something about me," she whispers.
Before she can look away, he steps closer, there's nowhere for her to look but his eyes.
"Emma," her name is soft on his lips, with a pleading edge.
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't do that again. I won't," he says it with such sincerity she wants to believe him.
"Okay?" he asks when she doesn't answer, his eyes bore into hers.
There's a part of her that simply wants to agree, it would be easy to smile and make light of the whole thing, but she's worked so hard at protecting herself from this kind of ache. The kind of ache that comes from trusting someone else, only to be hurt again. And it's especially difficult to think over her thoughts that keep yelling, what are you even doing with this stranger, how could he possibly stick around? Why would he?
His eyes dance across her face, trying to understand what she is saying with her silence. She notices immediately when his look changes from consideration to concern. His wrist soothes up and down her side, catching the edge of her t-shirt. She wants to commit the feeling to memory.
The okay is on the tip of her tongue, but he speaks up before she can.
"Give me another chance, love. I promise I,-"
She meets his eyes head on at that. A chance means time, and time means –
"Okay," she interrupts, not needing more promises, deciding to trust, even if just a little.
And the smile that warms across his lips tightens a long buried feeling in her belly.
"I feel like now would be a good time for a hug, but," he says through a grin, his arm reluctantly dropping from her side to indicate his towel.
Emma snorts.
"Raincheck then. What are you even doing?" she asks as he makes his way to the locker in the corner.
Right. She hadn't spotted his stuff because he had put it in the locker.
He carefully tugs his pack out and tosses it onto his bunk.
"Ugh, bloody awful shower configuration on the second floor. My clothes got soaked, so I hung them in the bathroom to dry a bit. I thought I'd sneak in and get more before you woke."
She nods and they both look at his pack but as he shifts awkwardly, it pushes Emma into motion.
"Oh. Oh! Right, why don't I go shower and you can, um, take care of this," she waves in his general direction and hurries to grab her toiletries and a change of clothes. His chuckles follow her to the door but he speaks up just before she can pull it open.
"When you return, let's decide where we are off to next?" he asks softly.
Emma's heart picks up and this time it's not so difficult to answer.
"Absolutely."
Thanks so much for reading! Tell me, what's song would you put on in the car to cheer you up? See you next week for Chapter 5!