Chapter 20
TWENTY
KAT
Ellie is stomping around the flat, throwing things into her overnight bag while I sip tea on the couch.
She’s asked me twelve times whether I borrowed the good dry shampoo, and is still giving me sceptical glances when she struggles to find it.
I’m pretty sure she’s used it all, as it’s as important in the mornings as breakfast to her. More important, probably.
‘I’ll be back Sunday,’ she says, giving up the hunt and hauling her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to pull the bin into the back tonight, otherwise the landlord will get another letter from the crazy lady over the back.’
‘Have a good time,’ I say.
‘I always have a good time at my mum’s. I’ll come back twice the size and with a full bag of clean washing.’ She pauses at the door. ‘You’ll be alright here on your own?’
‘Of course I will.’
The look she gives tells me she doesn’t believe it. ‘You could come to Mum’s. She never minds feeding a stray.’
I throw a cushion at her. ‘I’m not a sad old dog. I’ll be fine. Go.’
She leaves with a furrow of her brow, locking the door behind her.
And I relax back into the cushions, letting stress roll off my shoulders.
Everything’s been so tight in the past few weeks, the anxiety of not knowing who’s after me mingling with the intensity of emotions that Heart Eyes has brought up.
Closing my eyes, I lay my head back and enjoy the peace.
For about twenty minutes.
There can be too much peace sometimes.
Grabbing my phone, I send a message to Heart Eyes.
Ellie’s gone for the weekend. Do you want to come by? You can stay until Sunday.
I put the phone face down on the sofa and bite my bottom lip. I want him to come. But what if he says no? Rejection stings.
When my phone buzzes, I snatch it up, but it’s not him. It’s Darren.
God, I’ve almost forgotten Darren. That thought makes my stomach churn. I’ve been ghosted enough in the past to know it’s a dick move.
But another notification comes through before I can text back.
On my way.
He arrives a little after seven, all tall and brooding on my doorstep. Still masked, but those eyes are warm in the yellow light from my living room.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hi.’
I lead him into the room, his scarred hand cold from the night air. We sit on the sofa. He takes one end while I tuck myself into the other.
‘It’s odd to be sitting out here with you,’ I say.
‘Odd?’
‘Not that you’re odd, just that we don’t need to hide away in my room.’
He tilts his head a touch, and I can almost imagine him smiling. ‘You look beautiful tonight.’
My cheeks flush.
I pull my sleeves over my hands and search for something to say. ‘Ask me something. Anything. We should get to know more about each other than things that haunt us and how to make each other moan.’
He toys with the edge of a cushion, pinching the hem between two finger tips. ‘I loved making you moan.’
‘I’m not complaining. Maybe later I’ll let you take another crack at it.’
‘Darling, I think you might need to rethink that let.’
The way he says it has me clenching my thighs.
‘What do you want to do?’ he asks. ‘After you’re done with university.’
‘My Mum and Dad want me to go into finance, given that it’s the family business.’
‘That’s not what I asked. What do you want to do?’
‘No idea. I want to do something that makes a difference.’
‘It would suit you. You saved me,’ he says. The sincerity in his voice makes me reach out and thread my fingers into his, grazing a thumb over the black tattoos. I worry he’ll pull away, until he tugs me closer, settling me beside him. He’s so warm against my side that I can’t help but snuggle in.
‘What about you?’
‘I haven’t thought past keeping you safe.’
‘That’s not a career.’
‘Wanna bet?’
I look up into those soulful eyes and melt a little more. ‘What about after? When we find out who knows about me?’
He takes a deep breath and places his hands on my thigh. ‘My foster mother used to say that the boys who came through her door had spent so long in survival mode that they’d never learned to dream. I’m still working on it.’
‘What do you have so far?’
The painted hearts tilt my way.
‘You. Finding you is the only dream I’ve ever had.’
‘Tell me about her,’ I say. ‘Your foster mother. What’s she like?’
‘She’s tiny and a bit terrifying. But she cares deeply.
And mostly shows it through feeding us until we’re ready to burst. She loves making all my favourite foods when I go home and sneaks into my flat to leave me casseroles.
I think she believes I might starve if she doesn’t feed me.
After so long with no one asking, or caring, about my favourite foods, it’s nice to feel noticed. ’
‘She sounds sweet.’
‘She is. In her way. But she doesn’t take any shit either. She didn’t let me mope or hide away. From the day I arrived, she folded me into family life and taught me how to accept being a part of it.’
‘Did that help?’ I ask. I’ve only ever closely known my own family; I can’t imagine being thrust into a new one and having to fit.
‘I had ups and downs. I didn’t really know how to interact with people who didn’t want something from me.’ He looks at his hands. ‘But bar the occasional chore, she’s never demanded anything. She always tries to give rather than take.’
‘She sounds great,’ I say.
‘She encouraged me to learn to cook and clean. Said no woman wants a man she has to mother.’
‘She’s not wrong.’
He laughs, and the sound warms me through. I love to hear him happy, knowing how much darkness he’s experienced.
‘Did she teach you to paint your own mask and stalk women outside windows?’
‘Oh no, that’s all inspired by needing to be near you.’
‘I should probably be afraid of you.’ I say.
‘If anyone should be afraid, it’s me. I saw how you whipped into that alley with a kitchen knife.’ He squeezes my thigh as he says it.
‘Because I was terrified.’
‘You looked pretty hot with the vigilante fairy vibe you had going on.’
‘Shut up.’ I nudge him in the ribs while I laugh, realising how comfortable it feels to be here with him, despite my usually keeping men at an arm’s distance. Even when I’m seeing them.
Sleep drags at the edges of my vision, itching as the clock ticks past midnight.
We’ve shifted position a handful of times, and now I lie with my head in Heart Eye’s lap, his fingers toying with my hair.
It sends little waves of pleasure rippling down my spine.
Good lord, I’m in heaven, but it’s hard to avoid drifting off.
‘Do you remember the well?’ I ask.
‘Of course. Hard to forget.’
‘I miss the days when it was somewhere to make wishes. When I still believed in childhood magic.’
‘You were my childhood magic. For years after that summer, I convinced myself that you were fae. A mythical sprite sent to save me.’
‘Must be almost a disappointment to know I’m only human.’
He toys with a strand of my hair, and I trace my fingers over the rough material of his cargo pants.
‘I didn’t realise how magical humans could be, to be fair. I’d only met the bad ones.’
‘I still threw coins in. After… I used to wish for a sign you’d made it out. At eight, I had no way to find out. Not without even a name. My nanny refused to help, and my parents had no interest. The wishes weren’t much use, but they made me feel like I was doing something.’
‘You did more than anyone else did.’
‘We were only kids. Someone should have been looking out for us.’
‘Guess it’s just you and me,’ he says through a yawn.
I long to stay in this perfect little bubble of comfort, where the rest of the world disappears. Despite all the years that have gone by, he feels more like home than anywhere else ever has.
The last thing I’m aware of is his hand stilling in my hair, and his breath evening out.
I’m not far behind him.