"I'm not asking for a marriage proposal, Hardy. Not even for a date, or even another kiss. Maybe our 'weakened emotional state' did get the better of both of us that night. But don't avoid me. Don't walk away. Let's get to know each other some more. Let's be friends. Let me be your friend, Hardy."


Alana Reynolds hadn't expected anything like this to happen when she moved to Broadchurch. In fact, she'd hoped that in the small town she might make a few friends and avoid even the possibility of romantic interlude. But now, she found herself lying to the person who'd she had formed the deepest closest connection to since moving here just a few weeks earlier. Lying because while she did want to be friends with him, she really did want to kiss Alec Hardy again. But if he was that concerned, she'd have to push those feelings away, because she did not want him avoiding her again.

"Friends?" he asked, after considering her suggestion for a moment.

She nodded. "Friends."

"I told you, I don't even do friendship very well—just ask my partner, Miller—"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine—then you'll be my crappy friend that I put up with because I feel sorry for you. Does that satisfy your need for self-deprecation?" He stared at her, somewhat in shock and she glared right back at him. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Hardy."

He sighed. "Fine, alright, friends."

She smiled. "Good then. As a friend I am asking you over for dinner tonight"

"Dinner?"

Again, she had to roll her eyes. "Yes, Hardy—keep up—dinner, at my place. So we can see if this friendship can get beyond our tragic pasts and into other things. Will you come over for dinner tonight?"

"No."

Her heart sank. "Oh."

Hardy seemed to mentally back track, seeing her whole countenance fall at his response, and realized how short he'd been. "No, I mean—I can't—I've already made plans for dinner with my daughter tonight. But—another time maybe."

"Oh, right, okay. Another time."

"Right, well—I should get going. Bye."

"Bye."


Hardy could tell that Alana had been disappointed by him turning down her offer. Now, as he sat with his daughter at their kitchen table he realized he could have—should have—invited her to have dinner with them. Would that have been too much? Too much for a friend? Too quick? Would Daisy like Alana, he wondered?

"Dad, have you been listening to a word I've said?" Daisy scoffed at her father.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Of course, I was."

"No, you weren't. You didn't hear a word I said. What are you thinking about, anyway?"

Hardy took another bite of food from his plate and waited till he'd fully chewed and swallowed before answering. "Oh, I was just thinking—there's this American who's moved to Broadchurch…"

"And?"

"Well, she had—"

"Wait, it's a girl?"

"Well—a woman, I'd approximate. A few years younger than me, perhaps."

"A woman—you're interested in someone?"

Alec scoffed. "What? I didn't say that!"

"Maybe not, but you were distracted all through dinner, Dad. You were thinking about her weren't you?"

"It's not like that, Daisy—we're just friends. She went through quite a tragedy. Her husband was a cop and he committed suicide after being put under investigation for things he didn't do."

"Oh." Daisy looked down at her almost empty plate as she realized the connection.

"She seemed like she could maybe use a friend who could be understanding."

Daisy had looked back at her father and watched him as he took another bite. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he said, paying more attention to his plate than this daughter's face at that moment, knowing she was trying to read him.

Daisy was quiet for a moment, before she stood with her empty plate and carried it to the sink. "Chloe's mom is coming to pick me up so we can study for the test together. I thought I'd just sleep over there tonight if that's okay?"

"Sure, if Beth's alright with it."

"You should call your friend."

"Daisy!"

"I'm just saying, Dad."


A half hour later and Alec had watched his daughter hop into Beth Latimer's car and ensured she was alright with the girls' plan for a sleepover. After the car had pulled away he plopped down into a chair on the patio out front of his cottage and looked out over the hill. He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping it against his knee a moment as he considered his daughters words.

Moments later, the phone was to his ear and was ringing through.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello—Alana?"

"Yes, Alec? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"You're calling me. I'm just a bit surprised."

"Do you drink beer?"

"Not—not really. Why?"

"Oh, okay."

"Were you inviting me out for a beer, Hardy?"

"Not out—I don't go…out."

He heard her chuckle quietly over the phone. "What exactly is your point then?"

"It's just, Daisy's gone to her friends to study and sleepover, and I thought you could come over, and we could… I don't know… talk? Or… whatever. Nevermind, it was a bad idea."

"I drink wine. I'll bring my own bottle. Text me your address, I'll be right over."


Almost two hours later and both Hardy and Alana had gone through several glasses of their preferred alcoholic beverage. They'd been intently chatting about one topic or another, Hardy happy to allow Alana to guide the conversation as he was certain his own conversational skills would drag the conversation to a halt. Give him an interrogation any day and he'd thrive. Friendly conversation with a woman he was doing his best to deny attraction to, his head was a jumbled mess. He realized now the alcohol was quite possibly a bad idea.

After a few moments of companionable silence, sitting on opposite ends of the couch but turned towards each other with arms slung across the back, Alana took the last sip of wine from her glass and sighed. "I should call the taxi and get home. It's getting late and I should get to bed and sleep off this wine. It's been quite some time since I had this much."

"You're not far—I could walk you home."

"Oh come on now, Hardy. That's not fair—no acting chivalrous."

"Not fair?"

He was sure he saw her blush before she cleared her throat and stood up from the couch. "Nevermind…. Really, I'll just call the taxi." She pulled her phone out of the pocket of the oversized hoodie sweatshirt she had worn.

She was scrolling through the contacts when he stood and took one step closer. "Stop." Her hand froze over the number she was about to tap. "Let me walk you home, Alana. It's silly to call a taxi when you live so close."

"It's a half mile up the road, Hardy."

"You too drunk to walk a klick?"

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him, hearing the challenge in his tone. "I didn't say that."

"Then let's go." He nodded his head towards the door.


They'd walked in silence for quite a while, then made small talk for a while, and had almost made it to her house when she asked, "How could anyone dislike this beautiful town?"

Hardy huffed out a laugh. "I presume when you say 'anyone' you are referring to me?"

"You said you couldn't stand this town when you moved here. I don't understand how anyone could hate such a gorgeous place with such nice people."

"I told you, I was a very different person then."

"Still cranky."

"Perhaps."

"Grumpy. Cynical."

"Okay, okay. I get it. Maybe I haven't changed that much. But, Broadchurch has grown on me."

"I visited Broadchurch years ago, before I ever got married. And after everything went down, when I needed to escape, I knew this is where I wanted to live."

Hardy waited a beat before deciding to say what he was thinking. "I'm glad you did."

Alana smiled, glancing at him out the corner of her eye. "Yeah, me too."

Hardy grew quiet again as he saw her house getting closer. Perhaps walking her home while moderately inebriated wasn't the best idea. Not that he wasn't in complete control of his faculties, he told himself—he just seemed to be doing less thinking before speaking than usual.

Soon they'd made it to her doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Hardy. I promise I won't tell anyone what a gallant knight you are, rescuing me from paying for a taxi."

"Yes, well, see that you don't. It'd do my reputation too much good." He smirked a moment, and at her smile found himself growing ever so slightly braver. Oh. This was going to be trouble.

"And thank you for inviting me over for a drink. It was nice."

"It was."

"So…I guess I'll see you around?"

"Aye, I'll see you around."

"Okay then."

She'd just glanced down as she pulled her house key out of her pocket when he stepped forward, resting his hand on her shoulder and leaning in, placing a kiss directly on her lips. He stayed there a moment—long enough for her to start to react. But just as she did, he pulled back.

"I—I—I'm so sorry," he stuttered as he took a step back.

"You—that was you—"

"Y-yes, yes, it was," he stuttered as he looked anywhere but her. This had been a very very bad idea. Why had he convinced himself he could be friends with Alana Reynolds?

"It wasn't me. I didn't start that—you did."

"I'm so, so sorry."

She sighed and shook her head. "You think one day you might be able to kiss me without regretting it and apologizing afterward?" Her voice was quiet, and he heard it crack under emotional strain. He couldn't look her in the eyes, he just couldn't. "I…I need to go inside now," she turned her back on him just as he gained the courage to look up at her, and she and was in her house with the door closed behind her before Hardy could even start to put two more words together.