Favourite Hello. Hardest Goodby - E.S. Carter Page 0,1

comfort that’s always been just beyond reach. But, not anymore. The closer I get, the stronger the pull wrenches at me.

Lily Bay – 7 Miles.

The narrow road becomes wider, the occasional farm or house appearing more often. And still, I yearn.

Lily Bay – 5 Miles.

Sporadic homes turn into small, quaint hamlets all with the names of flowers—Red Roses, Buttercup Meadow, Bluebell Well.

Turn Left. Lily Bay – 1 Mile.

My heart tries to claw out of my chest. It pushes against my ribs, begging, calling, searching, aching. By the time I reach the edge of Lily Bay town, it hammers and thuds, punches and thumps, and it is all I can do to remain in the car. The insistent pulse inside me yells, ‘Close. So close. It’s here.’

I fumble my fingers across the door panel and hit the button to lower the window. The heady brine breeze seeps into my lungs, the hustle and bustle of narrow, busy streets filled with holidaymakers assault my senses, and my vision constricts. Despite my vow to head straight to the manor house, my eyes scan the streets—searching, always searching.

And then everything stops.

With a jarring halt, the car comes to a stop. My fingers grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white and my heart—the damned foolish beast—quits trying to break my ribs, and instead scrambles up my throat.

Everything at the edges of my vision becomes hazy—the people blur into a cloudy mist, the noises dull as if underwater and the smell of the sea becomes less pungent. Except for that one spot in the crowd that remains crystal clear.

I crane my head, not wanting to lose track of the man as he weaves his way effortlessly through the masses. My heart seems to stop when he disappears out of sight for brief moments, only for it to beat once more when he reappears further away.

Where is he going?

For long seconds I lose sight of him completely. My lungs seize, and my pulse turns frantic. And then, as if the crowd parts only for him, he reappears once more. My breath explodes in a ragged exhale, and relief washes over me. I watch transfixed as he walks into the open doorway of a pub. The sign overhead depicts an old boat adrift on stormy seas. The name in bold, gold lettering above the door says, ‘Safe Anchor’.

“I’ve found him.”

The words leave my lips on a whispered prayer, finally answered.

“He’s really here.”

It feels like I’ve been searching my entire life.

This moment is the start of the beginning.

Chapter 1

Macsen

Lily Bay Manor is a spectacular Georgian grand house set over three storeys and flanked by two-storey wings, but, after years of neglect, it has fallen into disrepair. As it currently stands, it’s uninhabitable.

Cradled between cliffs overlooking the sea and standing on twelve acres of wild gardens and woodland, you cannot ignore its rugged beauty and bewitching charm.

As I stand on the overgrown terrace, concrete balustrades crumbling and threaded with weeds and ivy, I absorb the magnificent vista before me and ignore the endlessly ringing phone in my pocket.

I should answer it. I have responsibilities.

And those responsibilities know that Macsen Evans built his empire from the ground up. He’s always in control, always available—night or day.

As I watch the waves roll lazily towards the private beach below, I wonder where that Macsen has gone, because I am not him now.

All that other stuff seems meaningless.

Six months of waiting, one seven-hour car ride, and a momentary glimpse of him have eviscerated the old me.

With my left hand in my pocket, I lift up my right until it almost entirely blocks out the view of the sun-speckled sea and gliding gulls. My eyes take in its shape, and the colour of my skin. There’s a small scar below the knuckle of my little finger where I fell off my bike as a child, and my pointer and middle finger wear rings—a silver Celtic knot that was my father’s, and a matching plain band of my mother’s that I had my jeweller make larger.

I know this hand; it’s familiar to me. Yet, it feels different.

I feel different.

Would those who know me see this change? Would they understand why I’ve uncharacteristically abandoned everything? Or would they likely think I’ve finally lost my mind?

Not that what they think matters to me. I’m here now, regardless.

Still, I have people who rely on me—employees who deserve and expect better, and those who have been with me since the very beginning. Now is not the time to