Ethan looked up from where he sat at the table and the words dried in Hamish’s throat. Years of drug abuse had aged Ethan and he always looked weathered and tired. But today he was ravaged. Deep channels crevassed his cheeks, his skin was pasty, his eyes bleary and unfocused.
Their recent conversations, in which Ethan had briefly mentioned the shit at his work, how it was impossible to escape the ramifications of being labelled a druggie, no matter how many years since he’d used, flooded back into Hamish’s head.
‘Jesus, mate,’ he muttered, slumping onto a chair. ‘What happened?’ Disloyally, he briefly hoped no one else had seen Ethan come into his place looking like this. If Dave Jaensch got wind of it …
‘You’ve heard already?’
‘Not heard. I’ve got eyes, man.’
Ethan shook his head, the movement short and angry. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make some kind of denial, but a knock sounded at the back door. He seemed to fold in on himself, as though he was hiding. ‘I’ve fucked up, Ham.’
Hamish quashed an urge to fabricate an excuse and quickly leave. ‘Well, no worries. You’ve been here before. We’ll work through it, man.’
‘What?’
So much for Ethan being a functioning addict—he wasn’t even able to follow the conversation. ‘Is there someone we can reach out to? I mean, is it like an AA thing? Do you have a mentor who knows what to do?’ Hell, he was floundering. But he was accustomed to Ethan being cool, assertive, in control.
Ethan scowled. ‘I mean I fucked up with Tara and Charlee.’
Hamish’s blood ran cold. Jesus, this was going from bad to worse. Ethan was decades older than either of the women. Hamish shoved himself up from the table. ‘What the hell? Is Tara okay? If you’ve bloody laid a finger on her—’
‘Ethan?’
Hamish didn’t recognise the female voice that called from beyond the door.
‘Charlee,’ Ethan supplied.
‘You can’t let her see you like this, man.’ No matter what he’d done, Ethan was Charlee’s mentor, her hero; seeing that he was using again would have to be bad for her own progress.
‘Like this?’ Ethan looked bewildered, then scowled. ‘Jesus, man, I’m not on anything,’ he snarled, as though Hamish’s suspicions were a betrayal. ‘Sober as a damn judge, clean as a cop. In the kitchen, Charls.’ He raised his voice and the bang of the front door answered him.
‘Tara’s with me,’ Charlee announced as she entered the kitchen. ‘Which is just as well, as I didn’t know which was Hamish’s place. Pretty wild in a place this small, right? Tara knew, though.’
‘Imagine,’ Ethan said dryly, though the humour sounded forced.
How the hell could he act as though everything was normal? Yet—
Hamish frowned. Tara was neither paying Ethan overt attention nor avoiding him. In fact, she seemed exactly like she usually did: eager to catch Hamish’s eye, flipping her hair over one shoulder, tugging on the hem of her sweater so it pulled a little tighter.
‘Of course I know where his place is,’ she said. ‘Hamish and I’ve known each other forever, haven’t we?’ She managed to sound both suggestive and shy, although the flush in her cheeks gave away how deliberately her words were chosen.
‘Sure,’ Hamish said mechanically. ‘You, Chloe, your brother. We’re all mates.’ As always, he tried to gently reinforce the boundaries, rein in her infatuation. His attention switched back to Ethan, who gave him a short nod, whichseemed reassuring, as though the older guy was taking charge once more.
Whatever was going on, Ethan wasn’t using and he’d clearly not laid a finger on Tara. Hamish blew out a relieved breath and took his seat again. It was ridiculous that one night away left him feeling so out of the loop.
‘Take a pew,’ he said, sweeping one hand wide to invite the women. He desperately wanted to know what Ethan’s issue was, but it wouldn’t be fair to flag it in front of their friends.
‘Did you see the post?’ Ethan asked the young women.
Charlee grinned. ‘Sure did. Awesome, right?’
Ethan looked appalled. ‘Awesome? How so?’
‘Publicity,’ Charlee said. ‘Exactly what we need.’
Hamish threw up a hand. ‘Hang on, someone want to get me up to speed?’
Tara leaned closer. ‘Charlee heard that the piggery out near Copramilka keeps their animals in really shit conditions. So we went out there last night.’
