13. Mal #2
Sev gives me a look letting me know he thinks I’m an idiot. “What do you want me to do? Shove the HMRC app in his face and tell him to get on with it?”
“No, but I don’t understand why you can’t have a conversation with him about something as fucking simple as a bill getting paid.”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
“Not disputing that.” I spread my hands, releasing him from my hold, and it’s a whole lot easier than letting go of Skylar. “Explain it to me like I’m five. Or someone who hasn’t been here when they fucking should’ve been.”
Sev’s anger fades. “No one blames you for that. If Jack hadn’t got hurt, he wouldn’t be here either.”
I don’t need that reminder. But I feel Skylar behind me and the tingle in my skin derails the grief and guilt in my heart.
He fills the space at my side, as tall as Sev, and a little thicker than his lanky frame. He takes the iPad and swipes at it. “Why are you shouting at everyone?”
Sev, not me.
“Corporation tax.” Sev gnaws on his bottom lip, as if Skylar’s mere presence makes him nervous. “You need to pay it before another ten percent gets added to your fine.”
Skylar moves away from me to poke at the iPad. Still under the thrall of his order, I stay where I am and give Sev a hard look. “Why hasn’t Sol dealt with this?”
“Sol doesn’t deal with anything.”
“What about him?” I incline my head to where Skylar’s at. “Or me.”
“Skylar’s never here and Sol told me not to bother you with pub shit.”
“I have a phone.” Skylar reappears and tucks the iPad into the bag he’s holding. It’s the bag he takes to work and my heart sinks a little. He’s leaving again already? Fuck my life. “An email address,” Skylar continues. “And I saw you fucking yesterday. I thought we talked about this already?”
“That was a year ago.”
“So?”
“ So ?” Sev throws up his hands. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Sol doesn’t understand anything that isn’t on that goddamn boat and last time I came at Jack with a bunch of numbers he had a seizure over it.
And you— ” He points at Skylar. “Don’t even pretend you ever answer that phone or check your emails, cos it’s bullshit and you know it. ”
There’s so much in what Sev’s saying it’s hard to pick something to focus on. The urge to blow past it all and just fucking run is strong. I don’t care about this place—this pub. But I love my brother. I love Sol, and Sev, and it tears me up that life has been so hard for them.
That it’s still fucking hard.
“I’ll pay the bill,” I tell Sev. “Just give me a few days to move some cash around. And if anything else comes up moving forward, talk to me. We’ll figure it out.”
Scepticism colours Sev’s frown, and I don’t think he’s questioning my ability to front the money. It’s the rest of it he has trouble believing, and I don’t blame him. Moving forward is the future, and I’ve made no secret of the fact I have no intention of sticking around.
Right now, though, leaving is the last thing on my mind. For a couple of reasons.
One: where the fuck would I go?
Two: Skylar’s wearing gym shorts and his tattooed legs are everything.
The second fact hits as Sev stomps away and I find myself alone with Skylar again, the summer sun beating down on us, seagulls heckling from the clouds.
He’s not wearing the clothes he came home in. Or the sweats that sit criminally low on his hips when he hits the gym. He’s wearing a faded blue t-shirt and athletic shorts, familiar trainers on his feet, and I cannot fucking stop staring at those fucking legs.
I stare so long and hard he taps my cheek, and the contact between his palm and my face does nothing to clean up my thoughts. I’m down if he wants to slap me. Just as long as he wraps those legs around my fucking waist.
Skylar chucks the bag at me. It collides with my chest, startling me out of a daydream that has no place in the early morning sun, and it’s the second thing in as many minutes I’ve had to catch before it hits my face.
“Choosing violence today, eh?”
Skylar slides a stick of gum into his mouth. “You have that effect on people.”
“Must be why they keep shooting at me.”
“No one’s shooting at you here.” He turns his head as he says it, gifting me his full gaze. “But we can run away from it all morning anyway if you like.”
“We?”
His lips turn up in the vaguest smile. “That’s your plan for the day, isn’t it? Run around this town until you’re fucked-up enough to pass out on the couch?”
It’s close enough to the truth to irritate me. Or, at least, it should irritate me. But… “You know, for someone who ignores me most of the time, you seem to know a hell of a lot about how I spend my days.”
“Your bad habits, you mean.”
“ You’re my bad habit.” With one small step, I obliterate the distance between us. “And if you’re ever around after I have some banging sex, you’ll get to see another.”
Skylar’s smile dirties to a smirk. We’re standing way too close to each other again. If I stuck out my tongue, I could lick his sinful lips. He could bite mine—I know he likes that. Because we’ve already kissed, and with him a hairsbreadth from being pressed against me, it’s all I can think about.
His lips.
His skin.
The sharp edges of a body with too many stories untold.
Stop .
My thoughts heavy in the same moment Skylar steps back. Filthy humour still lights his eyes, but shadows dance there too, and I know he needs out of this conversation before it gets too real.
Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I need out, but walking away from him is fucking impossible. “I’m going to run,” I tell him, because it’s the truth. “You coming or what?”