Chapter 13
thirteen
“I haven’t seen him, Wes.” Cath’s voice is strained, and I run my hand through my hair as I pace around the lounge. Outside the windows, the sun is setting, and the shadows in the park are growing long.
“Have you spoken to him?” I ask.
“No.”
“Me neither. He’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s not staying with Ben anymore.”
My stomach drops. “ What ? Why?”
“I don’t know. He just said that Tyler was currently staying in a bed and breakfast. He gave me the address. I asked what he’d done, but Ben wouldn’t say, so I reckon it’s something shitty.”
“When doesn’t he do something shitty?” I take a deep breath, trying to will away the panic. “Shit. Cath, I thought he was okay if he was with Ben because he’d look out for him.”
“I know. My dad saw Tyler in the pub last week. He said he looked dreadful. I’m really worried.”
My stomach sinks, and I swallow hard. “Me too, babe. Me too.”
She hesitates. “Do you think Mr Jackson the bookie has got him?”
I consider that. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally say, hearing the hesitation in my voice. “We paid off the debt with the house, didn’t we?”
“The debt we know about.”
I rub my eyes. “I’m not sure I even want to know any more,” I confess. “Each time I think we’ve got clear of owing money, another debt pops up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t bother asking him for a final figure. I doubt he even knows it himself, and even if he did, he wouldn’t tell you. He lies all the time now.”
“How do you know?”
“He opens his mouth, and sound comes out.” She sighs. It’s loud and sad down the line. “Sorry. He’s still your brother.”
“Why are you sorry? You’re allowed to be angry, Cath.”
“He can’t help it, Wes. I know that. Gambling is an addiction.”
“It doesn’t stop me from being fucking furious with him.” I sigh, feeling like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I’m now facing toting it up a long flight of stairs too. “And I still love him, and I’m still worried.”
“Me too.”
I bite my lip, thinking hard. “I’ll come over your way tomorrow. I’ll see if I can find and talk to him.”
Her voice sounds relieved when she speaks. “ Really ?”
“Yeah.” I look at my watch and come to a decision. “Fuck it. I’ll go now. I have an appointment, but I’ll cancel it and go to Tyler’s room tonight. Send me the address, babe.”
“There’s no point. I’ve been round twice, and he hasn’t been there. I went tonight and the landlady said he’d been in earlier but told her he was out for the night and not to expect him back.”
“So, he’s been there? That’s a relief, at least.” I feel a wave of guilt. “I should have done something about this sooner. I just thought it was sorted and he was safe. So I was allowed to give him the cold shoulder for a bit.”
“You and me both, babe. Will you let me know what happens tomorrow?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll ring you as soon as I know anything.”
I click to end the call and throw the phone onto the sofa. Then I scrub my hands down my face, trying to get rid of the worry clouding my head. I knew something was up, and still, I left it alone.
“ Fuck ,” I say out loud and kick the sofa. The pain in my foot clears my brain a little.
I look at my watch and frown at the time. Mac was supposed to have been here fifteen minutes ago. He’s never late, so that’s piling more worry on me. It’s good he wasn’t here to witness that call with Cath, though, because that might have been too personal for him.
I haven’t seen him since we got back from Paris a week ago. He’s obviously taking evasive manoeuvres since I pushed him to talk about his past, refused his money, and then compounded the offences by buying him a fucking present.
I glance at my watch again. Maybe he’s decided he has something better to do? Oh god, what if the Paris trip made him decide it was time to end our arrangement?
I stop pacing and rub my chest when breathing becomes suddenly difficult. The idea of never seeing him again is …dreadful. It makes me feel sick. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I fall into a chair. I don’t trust my legs.
What is actually happening? And do I actually want to know? My body is trying to tell me that seeing Mac is vital. But my brain is too scared to address what that means.
Obviously, I should steer my thoughts toward my future. Be cool. Think about the inevitable—moving on from Mac, moving out of this flat.
Julian ends his arrangements with cool practicality every time.
If he saw me now, he’d shake his head in concern at me.
Fuck, I’m concerned with me too. Because when I close my eyes, I see Mac’s face.
His raised eyebrows, his reluctant smile, his incredible eyes.
And I hear his rusty laugh and feel his skin and the way his body tangles with mine after an amazing bout of sex.
Is all of that gone now? My heart aches, and I rub at my chest again.
The sound of the lift doors opening makes me jump, and just like that, all my doubts fly away. He’s here.
I race towards the door and then freeze when he steps into the room. “What the fuck ?” I exclaim.
He sways slightly and braces his hand on the wall. His suit jacket is draped over his shoulders, dusty and stained in places. His left arm is in a sling, and the dark-blue nylon fabric is stark against his shirt.
I race towards him. His face is battered and bruised with the beginning of a black eye, and his lip is swollen. I come to a stop in front of him and hesitate, my hands fluttering around him, not daring to touch. “What happened?”
He grunts. “I’m building a block of flats, and I visited the site this afternoon and fell down some fucking stairs.”
“Oh my god.”
“Yes, yes. It was all very embarrassing.”
My lip twitches at the disgruntlement in his voice. “I expect it was.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of hiding your amusement.”
“I never do.” I step closer. “Let’s get this jacket off you.” With a great deal of care, I start to manoeuvre the jacket off his shoulders. He twists and gives a soft grunt of pain that makes my heart squeeze in sympathy. “Stay still,” I scold.
“Wes, I’m not a baby.”
“Then don’t behave like one. There. Done.” I throw the jacket on a chair. “I’ll send that off to dry cleaning. Okay, let’s get your clothes off. Come along.”
“Come along where?”
“Bed.”
He rolls his eyes and must immediately regret it because he gives a startled groan and holds his head with his good hand.
“Mac?” I ask anxiously.
“It’s okay.” He waves off my concern as usual. “I hit my head.”
“You hit your head? Oh my god .”
“Wes, please. You do know I’m standing right in front of you, don’t you? Your decibel level is more suited to Wembley Arena.”
“Have you been to the hospital?”
“No, I just splinted my arm myself. It was like the Battle of Trafalgar all over again.”
“Did that battle have a lot of sarcasm? I can’t remember my history teacher mentioning that. So, Monsieur Snarky, what did the hospital say?”
“They said that I do not have a concussion, but I should be monitored overnight. They added that only a highly sarcastic and deeply unsympathetic person could do the actual monitoring.”
“And I am ready. This is my moment ,” I say in a grand voice.
His lip twitches. “So, here I am throwing myself on your less than tender care.”
“And I shall rise to the occasion.” I notice him swaying slightly and hide my concern.
Being with him for a few months has taught me that he wouldn’t appreciate the hugs and kisses I want to level him with.
Instead, I tug at his good arm. “Well, I suppose you’re more interesting than watching Casualty . ”
“Goodness, I feel lightheaded with all the praise.”
“That’s just your head injury.”
I guide him into the bedroom, and by the time we get to the bed, his face is drawn with pain, and my heart is thumping hard.
“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s get these clothes off.”
“Wes, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is rather weak tonight.”
“I’d say the spirit is a bit pissed off too.”
I put my hands on my hips and nod at his sling. “Can you take that off, or does it have to stay on?”
He shakes his head and immediately grunts in pain. “It’s only because I strained my shoulder when I fell. I clutched onto the stair rail and wrenched it.”
I wince in sympathy. “Poor baby,” I say, just to see him scowl.
He immediately obliges. I touch the nylon sling and then reconsider.
“Okay, the best thing to do is for you to take this off yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.
I’d never want that.” I look up as his whole body suddenly becomes rigid.
“You okay?” I ask, panicked. “Oh my god , are you having a seizure?”
He sniffs, some of the strained tenseness leaking from his body. “If I did have one, could I escape this room?”
“No, I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me for the evening.”
“I must have been incredibly wicked in a past life.”
“You’ve not been terribly good in this one,” I point out.
He takes off the sling with a lot of creative cursing that makes me stare at him. “What?” he snaps.
“I’ve never heard some of those words. Epic.”
“And now you admire me. All my life’s accomplishments, and the one thing you value is the fact that you’ve learnt some new curse words.”
“Don’t knock it. Take the praise when it comes your way. It must be a rare occasion.”
I help him with his clothes, putting them on the chair in a messy pile. “I’ll send your clothes to the cleaners. They’ll be ready tomorrow.”
“ Tomorrow ?” he says in a scandalised voice. “What am I going to wear when I go home tonight?”
“You’re not going home tonight,” I say, astonished. “No way .”
“Yes, way .”
I snort. “You sound like a sulky teenager.”
“I’ve had better compliments.”
“But probably not quite as truthful.”
I stand back when he’s naked and put my hands on my hips. There’s a bruise already blooming on his ribs. “Bloody hell, Mac. Was this staircase fifty feet high?”
He chuckles and then winces. “It certainly felt like it as I fell down it.”