EVIN CAME BACK DOWNSTAIRS, laundry on in the distinctly not-up-to-electrical-standards washing machine in the bathroom. When he’d moved into the cottage, he’d turned the spare bedroom into a big bathroom. He’d knocked the kitchen through into the tiny, damp downstairs bathroom that had been carved out of it when indoor plumbing had first become a concept the previous occupants had wanted to engage with however many years ago, restoring it to its larger size.
His unexpected guest was asleep in the armchair.
His head was thrown back and his legs were stretched out toward the fire. His face looked less strained in sleep. Not younger exactly, but as if he’d temporarily put down all the concerns that were consuming his waking energy. And whatever he said, sleeping on that thin camping mat was
