Witcheskin by Nem Rowan

Author:Nem Rowan [Rowan, Nem]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay, Trans, urban fantasy, Romance
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2018-02-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Mum waited outside the pub on the main road, a floppy sun-hat keeping the light off her shoulders, and her eyes disguised behind her sunglasses. She reminded me of Shirley Valentine in summer-time, mainly because I could imagine her running away from Geraint to the Mediterranean and finding herself a handsome Greek floozy. The pub landlord had given her a bottle of lemonade, which she was drinking when I finally made it to the bench she was sitting on, and she let me have a sip through the straw before we started walking on our way to the caravan site. I was early, fortunately, and only because Maredudd had woken me with breakfast, and a hot cup of tea. We sat outside, admiring the beautiful cloudless sky, neither of us speaking at all, but just enjoying being in each other's company. When it was time to go, I gave him a kiss, and promised I'd be back as soon as I could. It felt so lovely to know he would be waiting at home for me.

"So, have a nice day yesterday, then?" Mum asked as she watched me sipping some lemonade, the cold liquid giving me brain freeze.

"Mmm—yeah, I had a lovely day yesterday. Maredudd and me found a rotting horse out in the fields behind the ruin," I answered, licking my lips.

"Ach-y-fie, Owen! That's not what I meant by 'nice.'" she rolled her eyes in disgust. "Don't tell me you've got old Maredudd admiring corpses too, now?"

"He was the one that found it." I grinned, holding the bottle against my chest as we paused before crossing the road. "And I got some concrete evidence too."

"I was talking about you two, not the dead animals," she reminded me before giggling, and shaking her head.

My grin turned sheepish as I glanced at her, unable to stop my expression from giving it away. "Well, we did kiss, and that was lovely."

"Soon you'll be getting married." She took hold of my arm, and gave it a pat, using me to stay balanced as we stepped over a leaking drain, water bubbling out through the grating, and flooding the gutter.

"Mum, this isn't the 16th century." I laughed, and she patted my arm again.

"No, but you know, Maredudd isn't exactly a spring chicken," she remarked. "You really don't care about his age, do you?"

"The only one that cares is you." I stuck my tongue out.

"I don't care, I'm just surprised. I thought you liked girls, but how wrong am I?"

"I'm just full of surprises." I chuckled, handing her the bottle back so that she could drink some more. "Anyway, I quite like how old he is. Makes him rugged, you know, rough, and ready. But his long hair, and when he wears his reading glasses, makes him look so intellectual. I like how he can do both looks. I don't understand how someone as smart as he is goes to work as a farm labourer."

"I think he does it because it suits his lifestyle. I don't think Maredudd would cope with a career.

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