48
Griff
I wake to sunlight pouring in, sharp and unforgiving. My head throbs like it’s been in a bar fight I don’t remember. For a
split second, I see the shape on the spare bed and my heart jumps—Beau!
But it’s not. Of course it’s not. It’s Scotty, snoring like a freight train, one arm flung off the side like he’s been dropped
there from a great height.
I groan, shifting my weight. The whisky bottle on the ground catches the light, empty and accusatory. We polished off the
lot after Navneet left; that much, at least, I remember.
“Knock-knock! Breakfast time!”
Scotty dives under the bed just as Tessa and Dayna enter with breakfast and my pills.
As soon as they’ve left, the boy crawls out, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god. How much did we drink last night?”
“Enough.” I hand him two slices of burnt white toast and a rubbery fried egg that looks like it came from a novelty store.
He grimaces but devours the food anyway. “Gosh. I can’t believe we haven’t been tasting it ourselves. I think my eight-year-old
cousin could make this better. If only you could teach the weekday staff too.”
“Wait until dinner. It gets worse. But at least it’s not snails.” I smirk.
Scotty’s smile soon fades. “Were there consequences for the food poisoning at Lorraine?”
I nod. “A full investigation. A hefty fine. The news hit the reputation harder than the bank balance, but business eventually picked back up.” I fiddle with the button on my sleeve.
“It was an awful time. I still blame myself. We’d only just been awarded the Three Hats. Beau couldn’t even attend the celebration
as he was so agitated in the evenings by then—sundowning syndrome they call it. I felt so bloody alone in all of it. His body
was there—but it wasn’t him, not really. The way I knew him, the way I leaned on him, that was already slipping away.”
Scotty’s voice is soft. “Gosh, that must’ve been awful. Having no one to go through it with you.”
I almost nod. Almost agree.
But then it comes back. The smell of bleach. The snap of gloves. The silence of the kitchen brought to its knees. And the
realization that I wasn’t completely alone.