She could hear him before she saw him — a muffled thump against her door, followed by a slurred giggle that didn’t sound like her Hughie at all.
When she flicked on the porch light, there he was: Hughie Biggs, Tommen’s loudest clown, curled up on her welcome mat like a lost dog. His jacket was half falling off, hair a mess, and he was singing — singing — to himself about how she smelled better than any other girl in the world.
She stepped over him, arms crossed tight. “Hughie. Get up.”
His head lolled back, and his grin split wide at the sight of her. “There she is. My girl.”
“Don’t call me that—”
“Why not?” He staggered upright, leaning far too heavy on her shoulder, breath warm with whiskey and heartbreak. “S’what y’are, ain’t it? Always been my girl. Since you were little. Since I taught ya to climb the bleedin’ fence behind the pitch—”
She stiffened, fighting the tremble in her chest. “Hughie, you’re drunk—”
“‘Course I’m drunk! You went out with him. Let him put his hands where only mine should be.” He laughed then, but it cracked halfway, something desperate and aching. “Couldn’t stand it. So I drank. Figured maybe I’d drown you out.”
She caught his face in her hands before he tipped over again, their foreheads brushing. His eyes, glassy and pleading, searched hers like he might find the words she’d never said.
“D’you know,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’d marry ya tomorrow, if you’d let me. I’d build ya a house with a big bloody porch and a swing where y’could read your books all day. I’d give you everything, sunshine. Everything.”
Her breath caught — but before she could speak, his knees buckled and he collapsed against her, dead weight and heat and unspoken confessions too heavy for her heart to hold.
Hughie woke up blinking at her bedroom ceiling, her floral duvet tangled around his legs. His head pounded like a drumline.
She leaned against the doorframe, mug in hand, eyes unreadable.
He squinted at her, sheepish. “Did I… do somethin’ stupid?”
She forced a small smile, though her throat ached with all the things he wouldn’t remember. “No, Biggs. Nothing you wouldn’t normally do.”
And she shut the door behind her before he could see the truth on her face.