Sweet As Knight

A Mini-Getaway

Chapter: A Mini Getaway

The bus rumbled softly beneath us as we pulled away from the hotel, the city slowly slipping behind while the countryside began to unfurl ahead. Jon sat beside me near the front, his bodyguard, Rich, a couple of seats back, quiet but watchful. Our driver, Malcolm, was an older gent with a fondness for humming classic rock under his breath, and although Jon and I didn't know Margaret and Catherine too well, we were both determined to make this little trip a pleasant one.

"Alright, ladies," Jon said, turning slightly in his seat. "Buckle up for the most thrilling countryside tour you've ever had... which might not be saying much, but we're gonna give it our best."

Margaret chuckled, a warm, throaty sound. "I've been on a bookmobile tour before, dear. Unless you've got surprise llamas and a village murder mystery lined up, I think I'll survive."

I couldn't help but grin at her dry wit. "I dunno, Margaret. If you keep teasing Jon, he might throw in a few plot twists."

Catherine, who was seated across the aisle from her mum, smirked. "He's not throwing me off this bus, not when I haven't seen a single llama yet."

Jon raised his brows in mock warning. "You're all lucky I'm outnumbered. And for the record, I do have a farm back home. Goats. Chickens. A donkey named Phillip. No llamas, though... yet."

"I bet Katie would love that," I said, nudging his shoulder. "She'd probably ride Phillip around the garden like a stubborn unicorn."

"That's not far off from what Jordan did last summer," he muttered, shaking his head. "Don't ask."

Margaret's eyes lit up with laughter, and for a moment, the weight that had hung in the air earlier—Jordan's fall, Katie's distress—lifted. We were just people again. Four passengers and one humming driver, watching hills and hedgerows pass us by.

"So, Jon," Catherine said, leaning forward slightly, "you really grew up on a farm?"

"Pretty much. My gran had it first. We didn't live there full-time, but it's where I ran to whenever life got a bit loud. Took it over properly a few years ago. Now it's my peace."

Margaret nodded appreciatively. "It's good for the soul. I grew up near the moors myself. I used to bring books outside and read under the oak tree in our back garden until Mum called me in for tea."

"You were a librarian, right?" I asked gently, remembering what Katie had mentioned.

"For thirty-two years. Mostly the children's section. Story time was my favourite." She smiled at me with a kind of gentle nostalgia. "Fairy tales, pirates, dragons... anything that lit up their little eyes."

"That's so sweet," I said. "Were you strict or more of the cool librarian?"

"Oh, I was terrifying," she said dryly. "Kids were terrified of how many books I'd recommend. 'You've got one week to finish these five titles, Jamie!'" Her voice took on a playful, schoolmarm tone, which made us all laugh.

The conversation meandered with the road, light and easy. Catherine shared stories about her job as a youth worker and how she was trying to encourage more young people into the arts. Jon listened intently, his elbow resting casually on the window as the countryside stretched endlessly on. He seemed relaxed in a way I didn't always see when we were on tour—maybe it was the calmness of the setting, or maybe it was the absence of cameras and chaos.

After about forty-five minutes, Malcolm pulled us into a scenic lay-by overlooking a wide valley framed with soft hills and stone fences. He switched off the engine and gave a little wave. "Thought you might like to stretch your legs. Views here are something special."

We all stepped off the bus, the fresh air hitting us like a soft slap. The breeze was light, the grass beneath our feet spongy and thick. There was a small wooden bench a few feet from the edge of the viewing area, and we naturally gravitated toward it.

"Alright, show-off," Catherine said, nudging Jon with her elbow. "This is pretty nice."

"Almost makes you want to belt out a tune, doesn't it?" Jon said.

"Go on then," I teased, half-expecting him to break into song.

Instead, he took my hand and gently spun me around to face him, swaying slowly with me. "No music," he said, "but we can pretend it's playing."

I melted just a little, resting my head on his shoulder. "You're such a sap."

"Sap with rhythm," he whispered back.

Catherine watched us with a knowing smile, then turned to Margaret. "Do you think they'll still be this sappy in five years?"

Margaret tilted her head. "If they are, I'll read at their wedding. Probably something about farm animals falling in love."

That made Jon laugh out loud. "Only if you wear a cardigan with ducks on it."

"Deal."

We stayed out there for a little while, enjoying the calm. Jon and Rich took a short walk across a stone path while I sat on the bench with Margaret and Catherine.

Margaret looked at me with her wise, librarian eyes. "You're good for him, you know."

I glanced after Jon, watching the way he strolled, hands in his pockets, chatting with Rich like they were old mates. "He's good for me too."

Catherine nodded. "I've never seen Katie so settled either. She's still got that fierce streak, but she's softer somehow. Less on edge."

"Jordan's good for her," I said. "They balance each other in weird ways. He's quieter than you'd think, but he's got this... depth to him. It's like Katie feels safe enough to breathe again."

Margaret smiled. "That's all anyone really wants, isn't it? Someone you can exhale around."

That line stuck with me. Someone you can exhale around. I looked back at Jon again, who turned at that exact moment to catch my eye. He didn't wave or smile—just tilted his head, like he was checking in, making sure I was okay.

I nodded, small but certain.

When we finally climbed back onto the bus, the mood was lighter, softer. Catherine pulled out a small tin of shortbread she'd stashed in her bag, and we all helped ourselves. Even Rich accepted one with a quiet thank-you.

On the ride back, I leaned into Jon, resting my head against his shoulder. The road was just as bumpy, but I didn't mind this time.

"Thanks for coming with me," he murmured quietly, just for me. "It means a lot."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

From behind us, we heard Margaret say, "I'm just glad we didn't end up lost in a field with goats chasing us."

"I'm disappointed we didn't," Catherine replied.

Laughter rippled through the bus again.

And in that moment—surrounded by near-strangers who didn't feel so strange anymore, with Jon's hand warm in mine—I knew that even amidst all the chaos of tour life, this right here was a memory I'd keep forever.