CHAPTER ELEVEN – THOMAS
Mother of fucking God, that hurt.
I’d never been karate chopped on the inside of my elbow before, but I supposed there was a first time for everything.
If I was being honest, I really hoped it would be the only time I ever experienced such a thing.
It was surprisingly painful.
“You can wipe that smug smile off your face,” I told Sylvie as I pulled out of the parking spot. “You got me, I’ll give you that, but it won’t happen again.”
“I should hope you’d be smart enough to not corner me again like that.”
“What are you? A cat?”
“If the shoe fits, I will scratch.”
“Or karate chop,” I added.
“Or karate chop.” She clasped her hands in her lap and looked out of the window, a sign I took to be the end of the conversation.
I left it there like she wanted and simply drove her back to her grandparents’ house. I was glad I’d insisted upon taking her home—the temperature on the screen on the car was dropping rapidly, and it was now reading at below freezing.
Only an eskimo would walk home in this kind of weather.
Melted snow had iced over and formed puddles, and the slushy stuff that was left over from the first snowfall was freezing over as we drove. The last thing anyone needed was Sylvie walking home by herself in the dark, missing the ice, and going arse over tit in the middle of the road.
Especially since her grandparents’ house was on a dark and secluded country lane.
I pulled onto that very lane, navigated the icy corners, and turned onto the steep driveway that led to the house. I pulled up alongside it, put on the handbrake, and looked over at Sylvie.
She dipped her chin before peering up at me through her lashes. Her face was illuminated by the dancing flickers from the Christmas lights outside, and for a moment, I was struck by just how damn beautiful she was.
Her dark ginger hair was hidden under a pink beanie, but little wisps of it waved down her cheeks. They were still a little flushed from the cold, despite the heater in the car, and there was a shine in her pretty blue eyes that was either grateful or foreshadowing my death.
It really was a toss-up.
“Thank you,” Sylvie said after a moment in a soft voice. “For bringing me home. I do appreciate it.”
I licked my lips, suppressing a smile. “Is that because the car says it’s now below freezing out there?”
“Can’t you just accept my thank you with some grace?”
“No.”
She sighed and undid her seatbelt, letting it snap back to the holder, then grabbed her bag from the floor and got out of the car. I watched her as my smile crept onto my face, and it got harder to keep it under control when she made an emphatic show of slamming the door.
My poor car. It was taking a beating from her this evening.
She strolled around the front of the car, and my gaze followed every step she took, even when she was done with the car and kept walking towards the front of the house.
She didn’t look back at me once.
She had far more restraint than I did.
I pressed the button to wind down my window and rested my arm on the ledge, poking my head out. “Hey, Sylvie?”
Her steps faltered, and she finally turned to look at me. “What?”
I waved her over with my hand, and she pursed her lips, but she came back over to the car and stopped in front of me.
“What?” she repeated, looking at me with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
She had a terrible poker face.
“Thanks for the waffles.”
She stilled momentarily, then tilted her head to the side and gave me a “Really?” kind of look. “Was that worth calling me back for?”
“I didn’t thank you earlier,” I reminded her with a grin.
She waved her hand dismissively and turned around, shaking her head. “Don’t think we’re friends now, Thomas Castleton.”
“If you’re going to use my full name, at least address me properly!”
Sylvie stopped by the front door and rested a hand against the column that held up the roof of the covered front porch. “Kiss my arse, Your Grace.”
“Well, since you asked nicely…”
“Oh, piss off!” She flipped her middle finger in my direction, fishing her keys out of her bag with her other hand. She only dropped her finger to open the front door, but she made sure to flash it in my direction one last time before she went inside.
I couldn’t help but fucking laugh. She was the pettiest of the petty, but it was hilarious because it was just so natural for her. She wasn’t trying to be petty—it just happened. Her flipping the bird at me was exactly the same as her karate chopping my elbow.
It was a spur of the moment action that reminded me perfectly of the spunky Sylvie I used to know.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
I waited for a second to make sure she was safely inside, then reversed to the front of the house in the little space I had. It took some manoeuvring since both Sylvie and her grandfather’s cars were in front of the house, but I just about managed it thanks to my reverse camera.
I drove down the driveway and headed away from the house, following the same roads I’d taken to get here. When I reached the turn off for town, I had to pause for a gritter truck to go past, then I turned in the opposite direction towards Castleton Manor.
The road had already been gritted, but I still drove a little slower than I usually would. The roads could be unpredictable and dangerous at the best of times, never mind in inclement weather.
By the time I reached the gates, snow was falling from the sky.
I used my fob to unlock the gates, then drove through them, making sure to hit the button to close them again as I rolled the car along the gravel. Happy that they were actually shut, I finished the drive up to the house and paused by the path to the garage.
Beth had parked outside the front of the house, and given that it was already snowing, that seemed like a bad idea.
I detoured down the path to the garage and opened it remotely with the key. The door whirred to life, lifting, and I drove into my spot and parked up.
Then glanced back.
Hopefully Beth’s keys weren’t in an obscure place. There was no way I was going to leave her car out there to be snowed on.
I shut the garage behind me and checked the forecast on my phone as I headed back towards the house. After it confirmed what I thought was coming overnight, I let myself into the house and checked the key hooks.
Her keys were there.
I quickly went back out, drove her car into her slot in the garage, and got myself back inside.
There was a chance she was already asleep in her room since the pregnancy combined with her heavy workload was exhausting her, but I still went looking for her in the hopes she was still awake downstairs.
I found her in the living room, curled up on the sofa.
Asleep.
Smiling, I walked over and knelt in front of her. “Beth?” I whispered.
She didn’t so much as twitch.
“Bethany,” I said softly, touching her shoulder.
She grunted and rolled her shoulder as if to shake me off.
“Okay.” I fetched two thick blankets from the ottoman under the window and gently tucked them around her, then got her a bottle of water from the fridge. I used the notepad on the fridge to scrawl her a quick note about her car and popped it under the water bottle.
After stoking the fire and throwing some fresh coal on it, I hesitated before leaving. I wanted to make sure she really was okay—she looked fucking knackered if the shadows under her eyes were anything to go by.
Her phone lit up on the table, and my eyes widened as it did the tell-tale jerk of a vibration.
I darted across the room and grabbed it right as that started. Instead of it buzzing across the table and waking the dead, never mind Beth, it vibrated in my hand, and I took a peek at the screen.
Zara.
I hesitated only for a second before I ducked out of the room and answered. “Hey,” I said.
“Tom?” Zara’s voice crackled with the poor signal, and I quickly moved away from the dead spot that I knew was the living room door. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, sorry, dead spot,” I replied. “Everything okay?”
“Uh, why are you answering Beth’s phone?”
“She’s asleep.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She’s asleep on the sofa,” I said, expanding on my original answer. “Her phone was on the table, and I didn’t want it to wake her up vibrating.”
Zara was quiet for a second. “Oh. Why is she asleep on the sofa?”
That was a loaded fucking question.
“Busy day,” I answered vaguely.
“Thomas!”
“She’s slammed at the shop, and the lights were turned on tonight, so she’s had a long day.”
“Oh, man, I missed the lights?”
I snorted. “Whose fault is that, Zara? You were supposed to be here. I’m not even going to respond to the fact you’re more worried about missing the lights than your wife being so exhausted she’s passing out on the sofa.”
“Don’t start with me.” My sister huffed. “She never falls asleep on the sofa. Is she that busy?”
“Between Christmas and Hazel’s wedding, what do you think?”
“She’s been busier.”
I shook my head. “Do you want me to give her a message in the morning?”
“I want to speak to my wife.”
“I’m not going to wake her up.”
“What if it’s important?”
“Are you injured? Dying? In hospital? Trapped in a basement with a crazed serial killer demanding ransom money? If you are, I’m not paying it, by the way.”
The line crackled with her huff. “Can you just get her?”
“No, I’m not waking her up,” I snapped. “She’s exhausted. You’d know that if you cared to come home.”
“How can you say that?”
“I’m not talking to you anymore,” I said firmly. “I’m putting Beth’s phone on silent, so you won’t disturb her. She needs to sleep, and that’s the end of it.”
“Tom, wait!”
The urgency in her tone was the only reason I didn’t hang up.
“What?” I asked after a moment.
“Is she… okay?” Zara questioned softly. “She’s been distant on the phone, and you’re there, and I just…”
I closed my eyes. “Come home, Zara.”
“I have to finish this—”
“Come. Home.”