“Secrets?! You little conniving motherfuck—”
Before I can even blink, or launch myself at him, Thomas has his phone pressed to his ear. “Security needed immediately, please. Yes, it’s Mr McAvoy…”
With a smug grin, he slides his phone back into the pocket of his perfectly pressed slacks. God, do I want to wipe it from his face with my fists.
Steeling my spine, I place my curled hands on my hips, tipping my chin up until our noses are almost touching.
“Blake is a hundred times the man you’ll ever be. You spend your time beneath your daddy’s shoe and his father before him. Why don’t you grow a backbone, stop harassing women and actually put some good into this world?”
“Maybe I will… when you stop being a little whore for—”
The rest of his shitty sentence is cut off by my scream. I thought my life couldn’t get much worse after losing Blake, but I know I’ve hit rock bottom when two burly security guards each grab one of my upper arms and begin to hightail me away. My feet skitter across the marble flooring. My heart pounds at the base of my throat, but part my lips, making sure the whole office block will be able to hear me when I shout, “You’re nothing but a sad little man with a tiny cock, Thomas.”
I hear a few snorts and chortles of stifled laughter, but I don’t get to see Thomas’ face because I’m frogmarched into the lift and out into the lobby, my cardboard box of belongings shoved into my chest, ID tag pinched out of betwixt my thumb and forefinger and tossed out into the street beyond.
But it was worth it.
By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m exhausted.
I shoot the quickest, shortest reply to Carmen, telling her what happened and then I slide into bed, beneath the fresh sheets Shelby picked out when she stripped my bed for me, and sob into my pillow.
I lay there, eyes crusted with leftover tears, for what I’m sure is hours, watching the sunlight peering through the crack of my drawn curtains turn to darkness, before I finally swing my shaky legs out of bed.
My muscles creak and crack with hours of disuse and my stomach protests as I shove a slice of buttered bread between my lips, but I push on. I shower even though I don’t feel like it, washing my hair and changing into a fresh pair of pyjamas, before I grab my laptop and settle myself on the sofa.
Thomas McAvoy might have stolen my job from me, but I’m not going to let him steal anything else.
Chapter 28
Blake
The next couple of days pass by in a blur.
I’m nothing but a husk, being fed and watered by Giselle’s watchful eye.
I can’t bring myself to face going back to my own place, to the same four walls permeated with Calla’s existence. Everywhere I look, I know I’d be reminded of her.
Instead, I go to work simply for the distraction, so I can turn off my feelings and focus on the task at hand and so I don’t have to hear Hudson and Gee whispering through the walls.
Shoving a bite of apple between my lips, I chew and begin dividing my class into two groups ready for a morning of rugby.
When the final student wanders off to join the purple team, I rub my hands together. “Right. First up—”
“Mr Millen!”
Turning to peer over my shoulder, I spot Mr Sweet, another sports teacher, racing across the field towards me. “Millen!”
“Yeah?”
“Urgency for you at the front desk.” My heart drops. “I’ll cover for you, go and—”
I don’t wait for him to finish the rest of his sentence, throwing the rugby ball at him and taking off across the field.
Somebody must be hurt. Mum? Maybe Dad?
I swallow back the bile threatening to rise in my throat, ignoring the rules and sprinting through the school corridors, trainers squeaking against the flooring, past warm classrooms filled with pupils. I skid down the stairs, scaring the elderly receptionist half to death.
She stops eating her melted chocolate chip cookie to point towards one of the private rooms beside the office.
