CRAIG
CRAIG
I don’t immediately register where I am when my eyes crack open to the invasion of daylight, but I’m warm, and I’m comfortable, and a subtle scent of lavender envelops me like a hug. Those few blinks worth of incomprehension are a blessing I fail to appreciate nearly enough.
Gingerly rolling my head, I take in the overly bright bedroom I’ve awoken in once before. A stack of covered canvas leans up against one turquoise wall, five towers of cardboard boxes line another, and flimsy grey curtains cover a wide window, wholly ineffective against the daylight.
I must still be sleeping. There’s no other sense that can be made of this checkpoint re-spawn…
Except, it’s at this point a steady throb starts up in my temples.
I’ve burrowed my face back into the soft hill of pillows when a thunderous rapping bolts me upright, and a brusque demand sharpens the throb into a skull-lancing pain.
“Get up!”
Teeth clamping, I hiss as my mind fractures into jagged shards of accusing eyes and damning words, a shove, a fall, a struggle. The savage impact of rock bottom. The crushing weight of defeat. Strong arms wrapping under my arms, hoisting me roughly up against a warm, solid body smelling of earth and sweat and soap; Sebastian’s voice at my ear…
Fierce as it is now. “Rise and shine!”
In the time it takes me to turn toward the door, it’s swinging open, and I stare, dumbfounded, as Sebastian stalks in. That same raw aroma wafts in with him, his wild copper hair looking wind-ruffled and his cheeks chilled ruddy. He sets a glass of water down on the bedside table, directly in my line of sight but just out of easy reach. Then, sparing me no leeway to catch up with what’s happening, never mind consider an act of disobedience, he rips the duvet from my body.
“What the…?” Too late, I realise I’m dressed in only my boxers. “Hey!”
A smirk twists his lips at my desperate lunge for the stolen cover. It’s tossed to the floor at the foot of the bed. “Weren’t so shy about yourself last night.”
My prickling skin can be attributed only in part to the sudden blast of cold. The knot in my chest tightens at the flick of his keen hazel gaze. Tugging a pillow around from behind me, I hug it protectively to my exposed torso. “Get out.”
“Get up.”
He makes no move, so neither do I. But the upper hand, here, is not mine to take. Once again, his pointed scrutiny seems to absorb my every vulnerability like a sponge. No effort is made to mask the distaste from his face.
“Clothes?” I crack.
Something flumps down on the mattress by my feet, something I hadn’t noticed him carrying. “You’re welcome. I want these ones back, though. If that won’t trouble you too much.”
There’s a tense beat of silence before I manage to tear myself free of him, glancing down at the faded navy hoody and grey sweats he’s deposited. I then proceed to frantically scan the hardwood floor.
“Where’s my stuff?”
Sebastian snorts. “In the dryer.”
“My phone?”
“On charge. Inebriated strays get nothing but a full five-star service at this halfway house.”
“Wallet?” I cut over him, searching across the room’s few furnishings. “And you’ve pocketed my car key again, right?”
“No. Your brother has.”
My eyes unwittingly snap back to his. “Al?”
“You think I might mean the baby?” The curve of his mouth becomes ever more scathing. “Alex wasn’t convinced you’d stay put. He also wasn’t all that keen to spend the night here as your carer, so…”
“So, Roxy’s not here?”
“And neither is your wallet. Apparently, his trust in me only goes so far.”
It’s the way he snipes the word ‘trust’ that trips me into action. I swing my legs off the side of the bed, pillow vice-gripped to my ribcage. Because Alex’s trust , given to Sebastian over me, smacks a whole lot like betrayal. I feel it like a shot of acid in my veins.
“I’m up, okay?” My stomach rolls as the room sways. Prising one clenched hand free, I snatch up the glass and down the icy water in one nerve-shocking gulp. “I’m up!”
“Congratulations.” He finally turns away, striding back toward the door. “Now, get dressed. You have five minutes.”
“Five minutes ’til what?”
“Breakfast.”
I watch him out, the door left slightly ajar in his wake. ‘Don’t test me,’ his taut shoulders seem to say. And I contemplate doing just that.
“Not like I chose to be abandoned here!” My shout carries after him.
One whole minute is wasted on an effort to collect myself, trying to lull the relentless pulsing ache, and another on a vain consideration of my predicament. But at the melodic sound of a clock chiming seven times from somewhere beyond this room, I’m chucking the pillow and lurching to my feet. Seven?! At this early hour of a typical weekend, I’d have just barely surrendered myself to bed. I make fast work of tugging on Sebastian’s clothes, an outfit that’s much the same as what he sent me home in that first morning.
The smart thing — the only thing — to do here is bail. And the sooner I move, the better!
A deep hush cloaks me as I step out onto the hall's threadbare blue carpet. It’s encouraging.
I find the bathroom first, behind the only unclosed door of the many lining the walls, a room as disordered and mismatched as every other part of this house I’ve seen. But it’s clean, and I can lock myself in.
Running the tap at the sink, I’m caught for an unintentional eternity by the face staring wretchedly back at me from the mirror above. A splash of cold water doesn’t quite cut it, so then, I cross to the shower and turn its faucet up full, thrusting my whole head under the frigid stream.
What follows next is a billion turnabouts and a dead-end at the foot of stairs rising steeply to a third floor. The still figures peering out from frames on every damn wall seem to mock me.
My temples are pulsing with a vengeance, and my legs feel just about ready to give under my weight when I finally make it to the ground floor and an area of the rabbit hole I’m vaguely familiar with.
Still, though, the blissful quiet remains unbroken.
I can’t help but laugh as I slump back against the wall and roll my head to scan past the lounge toward the kitchen door. If my phone’s anywhere, I figure it’ll be in one of those two rooms. Or, at least, I hope. And now, all I have to do is grab it, call Alex, and then get the hell out of dodge. Preferably without being caught.
So far…
“Craig?”
…So damn close!
My sketchy chuckle dies in my throat as Ashleigh appears in the lounge's doorway. With a thick braid of pink hair slung over one shoulder and arms crossed over her chest, she’s dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown, her long legs pale and bare beneath its hem. “Hey,” she says as I abruptly straighten. “You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Her smile flashes, though only at half its usual brightness. “How are you feeling?”
“Just peachy.”
“Sleep okay?”
“I guess.”
“Are you wet?”
I glance down at myself and shrug. “Little bit.”
“Come sit down, I’ll go get you a —”
“No thanks.”
“Still mad at me, huh?”
My gaze jumps back to her face, then, just as quickly, past her into the room beyond.
A sudden whirring sound snaps me to Judy, seated on a stool at the desk in the corner. She bobs her head, a silent hello, as our eyes catch before returning her full attention to the pinned fabric she’s guiding through the sewing machine. ‘Don’t mind me,’ the woman’s gesture seems to say, but I wouldn’t gamble on her not listening in.
Ash continues to study me, prompting me with a cocked brow as I work my jaw.
She’s wildly misguided if she believes an answer is forthcoming. I can tell she’s geared up to talk it out no matter how I respond. And I can recall our alleyway run-in with enough awful clarity that nausea threatens at the mere thought of her picking up where she left off.
“My phone,” I say instead.
“What?”
“Is it in there?”
A sigh accompanies the shake of her head. She takes a step closer, reaching a hand for my arm. “You’ll feel better with some breakfast.”
I’ve already swung around, striding away toward the kitchen, but the girl’s not so easily deterred.
“I meant what I said, Craig.”
“Sure.”
“You can trust me, okay?”
There’s that bastard word again. “Nope.”
“Why are you so freaking determined to push everyone away?”
“I’m not,” I start, ready to turn on her, but I get no further.
The kitchen door sweeps wide, tripping me to a stop, and the loaded glance meant for her is abruptly misfired at Sebastian.
“About time.” He fills the frame.
The house begins to feel stiflingly small all of a sudden.
“Please don’t give him a hard time, Bas,” Ashleigh says at my shoulder, like a brazen hypocrite.
In any other circumstance, it could almost be funny. I could practically thank Sebastian for his save here, but the staredown he has me clamped into doesn’t lend itself at all well to gratitude.
An uptick of his lips is all the acknowledgement she gets from him. “I was starting to think you might’ve choked to death on your own puke and shame.” His gaze travels over me with deliberate lethargy. “Why is my hoody wet?”
I don’t look down at myself this time. Nor do I bother with an answer. “Don’t worry. I’m going.”
“No,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Not yet, you’re not.” Because, of course, he’s not going to make this easy. “You’ve got a debt to pay first, Craig.”
It’s only at the brush of Ashleigh’s hand on my shoulder blade that I manage to unglue my feet. “As if!” My move on him is a challenge.
But Sebastian doesn’t rise to it. Stepping aside, he sweeps his arm in an open gesture of invitation before leaning back against the door frame and crossing one leg over the other. I determinedly ignore the wry curl of his mouth as I stalk past him into the kitchen. “You seriously don’t feel like you owe us anything, do you?”
The dog looks up at me from his bed beneath the bench, and it’s to his mildly quizzical face I direct my reply. “I’ve never asked anything of you.” My attention then shifts rapidly over the countertops, the table, and the laundry nook. Tracking wires and scoping sockets. “So, yeah, I seriously don’t.”
“Shocker,” Sebastian deadpans. “Except, here’s the thing, if you want your phone, that’s going to have to change.”
“What?” I whirl back around to find him utterly unmoved in the doorway. “I’m a hostage now, is that what you’re saying? You’re holding me to ransom?”
“Sure. You’re absolutely the victim here.”
Ashleigh’s moved up beside him, and she’s narrowing a disapproving frown at the side of his face. “Please quit messing with him, Bastian, for chrissake! Just suck it up and ask him, would you?”
A humourless laugh huffs out of him. “And give him a choice?”
I flick from Sebastian’s sour amusement to Ashleigh’s irksome favour and back again, a bass drum beating inside my skull with every blink, and the last weak thread of my tolerance snaps. I’m done. This game of theirs is over.
“Bugger it.” I still have a choice, and within five long strides, I’m at the back door. “I’ll walk.”
“Craig, wait!” Ashleigh calls out as I slam a hand down on the handle.
“You’re not wearing shoes,” Sebastian remarks when I belatedly think to flick the latch.
“Oh. Hey,” Sebastian’s girlfriend startles on the other side of the door.
A callous wind raises goosebumps on my skin. “You have got to be shitting me!”
Brianna’s hand remains raised and fisted and ready to knock, and her dazed stare lingers on my chest before lifting to my face. “You’re not…” She flinches as if stung. “Sebastian?” Arm finally dropping down to her side, her stormy eyes scan the scene she’s further hindered my escape from. “What am I interrupting?”