Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
I’m exhausted, and after three days of minimal communication with Adhira, I can’t say I’m excited to get back to our flat. The tension has been making my skin crawl, and more than that, I’m starting to think there’s something going on other than her adjusting to having a new flatmate.
She came home yesterday looking drained, dark circles blooming beneath those cinnamon eyes. Her footsteps sounded slower, dragging a little on the wooden floors, her voice thinner when she said hello, as if even speaking took something out of her.
Her hair was slicked back in a ponytail, tendrils unintentionally framing her face, and when she slid her oversized tote off her shoulder, her cardigan snagged, tugging down with it.
She was quick to adjust it, but I swear I caught a glimpse of a square white bandage lying flush against her skin, just beneath her collarbone. For a moment, I almost asked what had happened, but the instinct died in my throat.
It’s none of your business, I remind myself, despite the way my entire body revolts against the memory of muffled sobs and the constant retching coming from Adhira’s room.
Right. None of my business. Got it. Cool. Great.
I rake a hand through my damp hair, rolling my shoulder until it pops, trying to shake the tightness from my chest.
I haul my kit through the flat, dumping it in my closet.
I’m doing my best to leave as few traces of my existence around as possible, making it just as easy to be forgotten as always, while Adhira continues to ignore my presence entirely.
I suppose I’m making that easy on her, but really, I can’t expect her to tolerate me, let alone like me, if I’ve got my sweaty trainers lying around.
The clock on my nightstand reads just past eight, so I’ve got about twenty minutes to get a shower before the girls call.
I wash up, revelling in the smell of my own body wash rather than the generic ocean-scented rubbish in the locker rooms. The familiarity of the warm bergamot and sage grounds me in my own skin.
Once I’ve showered, I sit at the head of my bed, a stack of pillows piled behind me while I wait for them to answer, unable to get comfortable with the knowledge that I shouldn’t have to be in here right now.
My jaw ticks with momentary frustration.
I hate that I can’t have this call in the living room.
It feels like I’m already stepping outside of my routine—a routine meant to keep me in line and my family provided for.
They’re the one thing that’s mine—small anchors I cling to when everything else keeps shifting.
“Lijah!” Ellie and Lyla shriek, the sound nearly bursting my eardrums before I can turn the volume down. The abrupt sound cuts through my earlier wallowing, and I sink into the pillows, plastering my most easy-going smile on.
“Hello, little ladies. How are you this evening?” I ask, my grin widening as Ellie’s blue eyes and Lyla’s hazel ones glitter on my screen.
“Mummy said we can have a tea party, Lijah. Do you have tea?” I chuckle, knowing Mum said no such thing.
“I said you could have tea next time,” Mum gently chides from behind them, shaking her head as she comes into view. Her blonde waves, the same shade as mine, are piled high in a ponytail as she takes the phone from the girls. “How’s my favourite son?”
I roll my eyes playfully. “I’m still your only son, unless you’ve got something you want to share?”
“You know, I think these two are enough of a handful, and I’m fairly certain all the cervical radiation I’ve had would’ve quashed any chance of that,” she tells me with an exaggerated wink.
Despite her playfulness, my throat tightens, shame catching like grit with my thoughtlessness. “How’s the new flat?”
A tiny hand comes into frame, grabbing for the phone. “Mummm, I wanna talk to Lijah!” Ellie whines.
“Okay, you two, come sit beside me on the sofa so your brother can see you both. Alright?”
They both groan, climbing beside Mum, sticking their heads in her face, covering most of the screen with their wild hair.
“So, the flat?” she asks, starting over.
“It’s nice. Really nice. I think you’ll like it if you come to visit.”
“Hmm,” she hums. “And what about your flatmate? Are you getting along well with her?”
“Her?!” Ellie asks, spitting the word as if she’s disgusted by the mere prospect of such a thing. “Lijah’s living with a girl?”
My shoulders shake with laughter, the tension in my body lessening as Mum takes the reins this once, not counting on me to be their parent and their brother. “Yes, love. It doesn’t matter what gender your brother’s flatmate is. Everyone is allowed to be friends. You understand?”
Ellie pouts, her bottom lip jutting out. “Yeah, but if Lijah has a girl for a flatmate, why can’t we be his flatmates?”
“Because you’re too far away for now,” I explain, saving Mum some of the headache of explaining it herself for what’s likely the hundredth time. “You can visit and be my little roomies for a weekend whenever Mum is free from work. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” both Ellie and Lyla say, deflating.
We talk until it’s their bedtime. Most of the conversation is about the girls’ week at school.
Apparently, someone picked on Ellie, and Lyla punched the kid in the throat for it.
I can’t say I’m mad at her, but the conversation about keeping her hands to herself isn’t one I’d anticipated having with an eleven-year-old—not that she’s ever had any other father figure she can count on to explain that sort of thing—and with Mum being sick for as long as she was, she hasn’t fully acclimated to her role as their full-time mother now that I’m gone.
It’s strange, missing the chaos of caring for them.
Someday, I just hope I can resume my role as their brother and not their fill-in parent.
When we get off the phone, I order a tea set to the flat. Who’d have thought the first package I’d receive at my new flat would be a children's tea set?
I am British, so I suppose I should’ve known.
I get up and head for the door, but my fingers linger on the doorknob, a beat of apprehension passing through me as I hear the telltale sign of the TV playing in the living room.
Sucking in a deep breath, I twist the handle and pad down the hall towards the sound, rather than following my instincts to placate her and stay out of her space.
I find Adhira nestled in the corner of the sofa with a fluffy green robe pulled around her shoulders, eyes half closed as she stares at the telly with string and rocks in her lap. She fiddles with the items, her gaze not on them but on the screen ahead.
The lights are off, her face lit only by the massive telly, but it’s more than enough to take in her smooth complexion and the slight curve of her nose, full lips, and long lashes.
She's painfully alluring, and my breath catches in my throat as I finally tear my gaze from her to see what she’s been watching.
I stumble into the room, making my presence known, and her wide eyes greet me before she turns back around, grappling for the remote and flicking the telly off.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” she murmurs, never meeting my gaze, and I can’t help but allow the smile to take over my face.
“I just got done on the phone with my family. Thought I’d grab some water before I head to bed,” I tell her, making my way around the counter to grab a glass.
My cheeks are burning from smiling so hard, and I just know I’m doing a wank job at concealing my enthusiasm over her entertainment of choice.
“Right.” She moves her pile of blankets off her lap and stands. “I should probably head off to bed too.”
I take a long swig of my water as she approaches her door, her hand lingering on the knob, her gaze catching mine as she peers over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Elijah.”
“Goodnight, Adhira,” I whisper, the words swallowed by silence as she slips into her room, leaving me alone with the knowledge that she was watching my game tape to keep me warm tonight. And damn if it doesn’t do the job.