Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
SEBASTIAN
“You’re being a dick.” I spoke before I had even opened the door fully.
Alex sat at the large desk facing the wall opposite where long windows allowed light to flood into the office. The aspect outside was vast, you could see the lake and the edges of the outhouses, the entrance to the barn where Ben had returned to whatever it was he was working on.
He didn’t respond so I sauntered in his direction, knowing my attitude in his space would rankle him enough to draw a reply, and it did. No sooner had I propped myself leisurely against the edge of the mahogany surface than he’d thrown down the pen and twisted the leather chair to face me.
Slowly he crossed one foot over the other, relaxing his body into the seat, although his mood was anything but relaxed.
“I’m being myself.” He cracked the knuckles of one hand.
Alex could never be still, it was as if he thought that by committing to an action, no matter how small, he could influence the future. Control the uncontrollable. As if his endless effort would guarantee the outcome he needed.
It didn’t not work.
“No argument there, but you were raised, well, I might add. So, there’s no excuse for your surliness.”
He scoffed at my comment.
“She’s an imposition,” he stated.
“She’s spooked. And you’re making her uncomfortable.”
His brows rose. “I am not making her uncomfortable. I’m just not actively making her comfortable.”
My laugh wasn’t full of humour.
Shoving away from the desk, I dragged over an armchair from beside the fireplace. “With you there’s hardly a difference.” I fell into the chair, the message clear to Alex, I’m not letting go of this one.
“Why do you care? She’ll be gone when the snow thaws.”
I shrugged. “I like her.”
“You like everyone.” He made it sound like it was some sort of shortcoming.
“Be that as it may. The point remains. You. Are. Being. A. Dick.” I propped my elbows on my knees, searching his face.
“You don’t have to be Suzy-sunshine. Not that you ever could be.
But seriously, Alex, stop being so surly with her.
She’s harmless. Her being here doesn’t hurt you.
And you don’t know where she has come from, or where she is going.
But I assure you, she’s running from something. And we are all here, for now.”
His lips thinned as he thought. I’d known him so long that I knew he would never openly acknowledge what I was saying to be true, but that he had heard me.
His head dipped imperceptibly. A tiny fraction.
That would be all I got from him.
Grinning, I clapped him on the shoulder and he grumbled something, but I didn’t hang back to hear it, rising and striding towards the exit.
“Just leave the chair there, then!” he called after me.
“Thanks, I will!” I grabbed the door and slammed it to behind me, leaving him to mutter away in his own company.
“You’re not getting your hands on my smalls,” she called out from the inside of her bedroom.
“But whyyyyy?” I whined.
I could hear a chuckle. I knew I could.
“Speak now or be seen in a compromising state of undress.”
Silence greeted the comment so I slipped inside her room. The space smelled like mandarin and something else. Her clothes still lay over the window seat; she was cross-legged on the bed once again. Pieces of paper laid out in front of her, the ink having bled and smeared.
“Planning your next big hike?”
She slid them carefully back together, raising a single shoulder then letting it drop.
“Aren’t you bored up here?”
“Yes actually.” She folded the papers and tucked them under the lamp, the scrawl of writing on the back catching my eye. A small card with a phone number was also pinned to the surface by the heavy copper light. “I don’t suppose there are any books around here?”
I scrunched my nose.
“Reading?” I tutted despite being a voracious reader myself normally – when there wasn’t something more interesting to entertain me. “Yes, Alex’s office is full of books. There has to be something of interest in there.”
She scoffed. “Hard pass.”
Laughing I took up the space at the bottom of the bed again. It was darkening outside and she’d changed back into her Stitch pyjama bottoms, my smile widened at the rest of her outfit. She scowled; it was adorable.
“I am overjoyed to see there is a matching pyjama top.” I wiggled my eyebrows and she tinkled a laugh.
I liked it.
“Come have a drink with me, I was going to put on a movie.”
She visibly stiffened and I felt myself frowning.
“Alex will be tucked away in the study most of the night.”
Her shoulders dropped a smidge and my smile returned. Fucking told him.
“And Ben?”
A prickle of unease skittered over me. Benji.
When I didn’t respond immediately, she leaned in a little and looked to the open door. “I make him uncomfortable.”
My head shook; she wasn’t. “You aren’t.”
Her hands sat on the bed in front of me where she leaned towards me. I fisted my hands, tempted, then gently placed my palm over her hand, she was warm, her skin soft under my fingers.
“You aren’t,” I urged.
She looked at where I touched her but didn’t pull her hand from under mine.
How could I reassure her while keeping Benji’s confidence?
“He’ll likely be outside for a while longer. Anyway, I think he likes you. Plus, he isn’t uncomfortable. He’s just an arm’s distance kind of guy.”
An arm’s distance kind of guy? Fucking hell, Sebastian.
“Tell you what. You join me for a…” I hesitated, sizing her up and she frowned. “Rum?”
Her frown turned to a smirk. “Vodka.”
“Wonderful!” I released her, the warmth of her palm noticeably absent the moment I did so. “You join me for a vodka, and I’ll give you the tips and tricks of getting by in the Cavendish household.”
“Cavendish?” She looked briefly surprised. At my puzzled expression, she continued. “Father was great friends with a Cavendish when I was younger. I haven’t heard that surname in forever.” Her eyes softened at a memory, I assumed of her father, before worry replaced it.
I had the overwhelming urge, no, it wasn’t an urge. It was a need to chase away whatever ghosts were haunting her in this moment, so I rose preparing for a distraction.
“Now, I remember we agreed on our smalls being washed together.” I approached the bay window, looking over her collection of clothes hoping this wasn’t all she had.
My eyes caught on the shredded knee-sections of a pair of joggers and a dishevelled-looking t-shirt and jumper.
The leggings and jumper she’d been wearing today.
Another pair of leggings was laid out and a couple of tank tops, plus one long-sleeved shirt.
“I see no smalls?” I looked slowly over the small arrangement again and she huffed at me, making me smirk at my success in distracting her. “But I can give these a go with mine.”
I began collecting the dark joggers, leggings, jumper and top that were clearly worn and she hurried over to me, trying to ease them from my grip, quiet complaints falling from her lips.
I stopped, and she tugged at them, finally ceasing when I didn’t release a single item.
Did she just stomp her foot? I grinned, widely, and her eyes rolled.
“This,” I whispered conspiratorially, “is stage one on the relaxing Ben offensive.”
She straightened, looking like she might argue but then thinking better of it, she released her hold on the clothes.
“Now.” I looked outside then back to her. “It’s officially evening, so I’d say we’d be forgiven for starting with the vodka.”
She was laughing, hard. The movie on pause entirely forgotten.
At some point during a high-octane fight scene she’d begun scoffing, then outright critiquing the sequence.
Something I couldn’t help but find entirely adorable.
It had taken barely one question before she’d launched into a full detailed breakdown of how someone with extensive grappling experience wouldn’t have allowed themselves to be pinned and beaten in such a way.
Her indignation turned to joy as I followed her complaints with a selection of my own about the more realistic movement capability after taking a baseball bat to the ribs and a bullet to the leg.
Now I was three stories deep into some of my most ridiculous patient experiences and she was creasing opposite me.
We sat at either end of the sofa, turned inwards, knees bent, my feet bracketed hers.
Not touching, obviously, give the girl some space.
A long throw stretched between us. Initially she’d ignored it, but as the evening wore on, and the drinks flowed, glasses cool with condensation, she’d tugged it over her lap.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” she gasped.
“No word of a lie. By the next time I saw her she had fifteen different patches stuck to her. She was absolutely fine, thank goodness. But when you say a new patch every two days, we all assumed they understood it was a replacement. Poor woman kept complaining that she was struggling to keep them all attached.”
“Oh my God!” Izzy chuckled, then clapped her hand over her mouth, clearly feeling unkind for laughing.
“She was absolutely fine, Killer, don’t feel bad for her.”
Her laugh came more freely and I grinned.
“Anyway, how many men have you put into the doctor’s surgery with your jiu-jitsu?”
She sobered slightly, chewing her lip and swirling the ice in her glass. “None, yet.”
“You sound expectant?” I watched her as she thought.
“Not expectant. Just not na?ve.” She shrugged but seemed anything but nonchalant, her demeanour became guarded and I cursed myself.
“The world’s a dangerous place.” She nodded slowly at my comment. “I didn’t think many women trained self-defence?”
Her eyes rose to meet mine, hesitant, she waited to see if I continued, but I left it hanging.
“They don’t.” She scrutinised me for my reaction but I forced myself to remain still.
The woman opposite me had felt the need to learn self-defence despite it being extremely restricted and all women having a guardian – the term disgusted me.
I knew if women wanted to defend themselves they could attend state-provided sessions on defusing dangerous situations.
But not classes, and definitely not combat classes.
“I was lucky. I had some good friends on campus.”
I waited, smiling, hoping she’d offer me more but she quietened.
Footsteps on the stairs announced Ben’s arrival. He’d slipped inside a while ago and retreated to his own space, which I knew would take a good hour.
“There’s a sandwich under the serving dish,” I called out without turning.
“Thanks, Seb.” I heard the dish lift.
“Could you grab the drinks?” I asked.
“Yes.”
He approached a few minutes later, slipping the bottle into my hand and edging around the room before carefully dropping into a large chair at the furthest side.
Izzy watched him from the corner of her eye, then looked to me, head tilting in silent communication.
“Killer here was just talking about her jiu-jitsu training.” I observed Izzy as I spoke to Ben but saw his head lift in interest. His glasses were discarded on the coffee table so I could see his eyes, which scanned Izzy with interest.
“Hardly.” Izzy clammed up immediately.
“Really?” Ben’s voice was lifted, curious. “I’d like to learn some, if I ever could.”
Izzy turned to him, surprise in her slightly parted lips. “I’m sure you can?”
Ben examined her quietly, his food forgotten, but then lifted a shoulder. “I’m not good enough with touching.”
I thought I could see the gears moving behind Izzy’s eyes; she noticeably relaxed as the realisation settled over her.
“Yeah?” She rotated herself, distance increasing between us but allowing herself to make steady eye contact with Ben. “It can be a lot, even with women.”
Ben nodded. “It’s the smells too.”
Izzy took an audible slow inhale.
“Deodorant, sweat, aftershaves.” He shrugged. “But if I could do any martial art, it would be that one. I like the control of it.”
Izzy smiled. “Me too.”
Ben opened his mouth to speak then paused but shortly tried again. “Maybe, over the next few weeks, you could teach me some?” His smile was sweet. I wouldn’t say anything but I doubted he’d get that comfortable that quickly.
“I could teach you how to do it to Seb?” She grinned at him, her offering earning a large smile from Ben at her understanding, and a snort from me.
“I’d be pinned down by Benji any day. Especially if you’re going to demonstrate everything on me first.” They both turned to me, finding me grinning, wearing almost matching looks of exasperation.
The distant sound of beeping indicated the washing machine had finally finished the very long wash and dry cycle I had put it on…
Izzy stood immediately to retrieve the items, emerging with a small pile in each hand.
She’d folded both sets of clothes and I applauded my decision to keep my smalls out of it for now.
Setting my bundle gently on the arm of the sofa, she smiled, her mood a complete contrast to when I dug her out of her bedroom.
“It’s late.” I nodded knowing she was retreating. “Thank you for the drink.”
She turned to leave but before she did I snagged her wrist, she paused, looking down. “Now you’re out of toiletries, Benji here won’t mind if you use his, will you, Benji?”
She frowned.
“The black bottles,” Ben replied.
Her eyes lifted to him, then back to me.
“Goodnight, Killer.” I winked and she disappeared up the stairs.