The next two days pass slowly. He doesn't see much of Rose, who has thrown herself into teaching and helping at the ski shop at Swinhope Moor. John cancels his classes for the rest of the week and instead helps Wilf ready the B&B for the weekend's bookings.

Wellll … John says "helps." Wilf has started insisting on doing everything himself, even when John as much as offers to make a grocery run or bring the guests' heavy ski bags up the creaky staircase. John does win their ongoing argument to cook meals — but only with the excuse that Wilf had gifted him the Spirit Thermolon cookware, and I haven't had a chance to use it much, Wilf - please, you're doing ME a favor!

Evenings are the only times John is able to spend any time with Rose at all. He cooks dinner for Rose, Wilf, and himself - a braised shoulder of Herdwick hogget one night, a leg of salt marsh lamb the next. It's domestic in a way John never thought he'd have — Rose texts him when she's on her way home from her last lesson of the day, and John starts dinner, keeping a steady eye out the kitchen window for the headlights of her snowmobile, and having a cup of tea ready for her when she comes inside from the snapping cold. Wilf heads to bed straight after dinner these days, while John and Rose sit side-by-side on the sofa in front of a crackling fire, Rose watching Eastenders and John watching the glow of the firelight reflect off Rose's hair.

She hasn't brought up that bastard Jimmy or the money again, and John doesn't have the heart to mention it and risk upsetting her.

On Friday, John tries his hand at making a rum nicky for dessert, although Wilf has turned in early once again. The brown sugar glaze caramelizes to a crisp perfection over the criss-crossed crust, and John thinks he may have outdone himself until he takes a bite and frowns: it might be possible he used a wee bit too much rum.

"It's fine," Rose laughs, patting John's hand. "Better'n, even. The rum's the best part of this dish, don't you know?"

He frowns and takes another bite, feeling the rum burn through his taste buds and make a beeline straight to his head. His skin starts to flush, and isn't sure if it's from embarrassment or the alcohol. "Not sure about that, Rose — next time, maybe I'll only add half —"

The bell above the front door jangles merrily behind John, cutting him off mid-thought. Rose lifts her head to look behind him, her eyes widening. John turns around questioningly, his eyes hardening into a glare as he sees Jimmy Bloody Stone closing the door behind him.

Jimmy glares back, looking between the two of them with a sneer. "Well of bloody course you're here. I don't know why I'm surprised at all."

"Why're you here, Jimmy?" Rose breathes out, her voice tight.

"I left my guitar in your room. I only want it back."

"And?"

"Well you can't just keep it. That's theft."

John barks out a laugh. "Oh, you're talking about theft. Now that is quite rich coming from you." He then turns towards Rose, his gaze softening. "Rose … You don't need to —"

She shakes her head and gives John's hand a quick pat, not meeting his eyes. When she speaks, her voice is tight like a bowstring. "Yeah. You're right. Probably shouldn't. But I want you out of my life forever, Jimmy, and if giving you your stupid guitar will get that done quicker, I'll bring it down right now and you can leave for good."

Rose is up and out of her chair in an instant, taking the stairs two at a time before John can say a word.

"It never fucking changes, you two," Jimmy says as soon as she's out of sight. "But it's not my problem no longer. I'll get my guitar and be on my way."

"Oh, that's all you want, is it?"

"Yeah."

The two men stand their ground, staring at each other, each with poorly disguised distaste in their eyes.

"No, I don't think so," John says with a sniff, standing and drawing himself up to his full height. "Not so fast, anyway. The money. The money you took from Rose. We settle this now."

"None of your business, mate," Jimmy says, smirking, all the while he is staring daggers at John.

"Oh, I'm making it my business," John says, shoving his hands into his pockets, his posture more casual than he truly feels. He stares back at Jimmy, ice in his eyes. "If it concerns Rose, it concerns me."

"Like that's fucking new," Jimmy scoffs, narrowing his eyes further, and exhales slowly, clearly trying to control his temper. "Seems to me you're always butting in where you don't belong."

"You cheat my best friend, you cheat me," John says, spitting out every word like a curse. He's not referring just to the money, and Jimmy might be a punk-ass wanker in John's opinion, but he's not stupid and he doesn't miss the double meaning.

"Best friend..." Jimmy scoffs, pointing at John and laughing bitterly, as if something amusing yet awful has occurred to him. "Oh I get it, I know what this is really about. You just think you're missing out on something good - but lemme tell you mate, you're really not. She's just about the worst lay I've had, she's a cold fish, that one."

John hears Rose rather than sees her. She gives a hurt little gasp from behind him on the stares, and John sees red at the sound. Before he knows what he's done, he's shoved Jimmy towards the door.

Jimmy shoves back, pushing John into the wall so hard his head bounces off the wood paneling. The crash shakes the wall, knocking down one of the old framed mining pictures on the wall in the process. Glass shards from the frame spill across the floor, hundreds of tiny little crystalline pieces crashed and broken.

Jimmy hauls off and punches John in the gut with one fist and swipes at John's chin with the other. John responds, his fist cracking the younger man's jaw, and Jimmy grabs it with a curse, moving back away from the wall.

"Stop!" Rose yells, stepping between the two men, facing Jimmy. She shoves his guitar at him, then grabs John's hand.

At the touch, John steps back, his head on fire, and ice and rage still in his eyes, but her hand finds his and he is calm.

"Fuck you! Fuck both of you!" Jimmy yells, blood-tinged spit flying from his mouth. "You're not getting that money back, bitch, you cost Trish a month's rent when you up and left like that."

"You were sleeping with her!" Rose yells, tears in her eyes, all her previous composure lost.

"I'm surprised you even fucking noticed!" Jimmy screams back at her.

Suddenly John's arm is around her waist, gentle and reassuring, and she takes a deep breath, turning away from Jimmy and into John's ready embrace. His arms come up slowly to enfold her protectively. She burrows her face into his chest and breathes in, and then out, raggedly in his arms before her breaths soon calm and she is quiet.

"Get. Out."

John's interjection is soft, but the coldness in his voice and the ice in his eyes cuts through the room like steel, sharper than the glass shards scattered across the floor.

"Get out now," he says quietly. "Before I do something I regret. You're not welcome here."

Jimmy sneers and shakes his head, wiping the blood from his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Unbelievable. Fuck the both of you. You deserve each other. I'm glad to be rid of you, you cow."

Jimmy adjusts his guitar strap and strides towards the door, slamming it behind him. The parting shot dissipates quickly in the air as he leaves, and the only sound in the room are John's harsh breaths. Time seems to stand still for a moment as John and Rose stay in the middle of the floor, still embracing. He doesn't know what to say to her, so he just strokes her back and holds her close and listens to the soft rise and fall of her breath. It calms him almost as much as it seems to calm her.

"Are you all right?" she whispers into his shoulder. "Your head —"

"I'm always alright," John says. "Hard head, me. I'm not hurt. I promise."

"Thank god for that," she says, gently running her fingers through John's hair and along his scalp as if to check for damage herself. John closes his eyes, feeling like he never wants to move, and holds Rose closer.

"We could call a magistrate," he finally murmurs into her hair. "Or try again with the bank. He cashed your check, that's illegal. You shouldn't have to use your father's money to make up for it, Rose -"

"No," she says quickly and definitively, shaking her head. "Jimmy's not worth it, and if he tells them you hit him, you could -"

She shakes her head again and holds John a little tighter.

"He's not worth it."

Saturday passes quickly. John checks in the weekend guests with a smile on his face before Wilf is even up in the morning. For his part, Wilf only makes a small mention of the commotion the previous night, asking Rose if she wants him to talk to Bev or whip that boy himself. Rose, of course, hugs Wilf tight and tells him to do no such thing, and that she and John handled the situation and, with any luck, they shouldn't be seeing hide nor hair of Jimmy anymore. John heads out to Durham later in the afternoon for groceries and a replacement picture frame for the broken one on the wall. There is no way he's going to Stone General Store again, and Durham is only an hour away.

Sunday dawns too soon. Rose checks out the guests, and John helps a family carry their bags to their car so they can make the long journey back to London. It's a trip he'll need to make later that day too, he knows. John knows he can't cancel his classes yet again — midterms are coming up and he has students counting on him. He and Rose have danced around the topic of his return to London all week.

"So …" he says as they stand side by side, waving as the last car leaves the B&B's carpark. "You coming back?" he says softly - and he wants to add, to London, to school, to him - but his meaning lingers unspoken in the air between them, hesitant and waiting.

She pauses for a moment, looking down the road at the disappearing car and heaves a sigh. When she meets his eyes again her own seem a little bit more red than they did just a moment ago.

"Nah ... that's not my world," she says softly.

He swallows hard and wonders why it suddenly feels like all the air has gone out of his lungs.

"But - but you," she says, pasting on a smile that doesn't seem nearly as bright as she clearly intends it to be. "You have to get back to classes."

He knows it's true. Knows that as much as he wants to take her in his arms and tell her he'll stay here forever, he has students waiting for him, and a flat with this month's rent only slightly overdue. Even though he can't contradict her, he takes her in his arms and breathes out a sigh into her hair.

"I'll come back this weekend," he says. "I promise."

Rose nods, and snuggles more deeply into his embrace.