‘What do you mean it hasn’t come through?’ All the blood in my body froze. ‘Steve, are you telling me I’ve not paid you all month?’
He gave a rough nod. Grey eyes telling me just how much he hated having this conversation. ‘Ay, that’s what I’m saying.’
Jesus Christ.
‘Steve, I’m so sorry.’ I ran a hand down my face, scratching my jaw.
‘Hey, it’s alright. Knew it wasn’t on purpose, boss.’
Didn’t make it any better that I’d forgotten to fucking pay him. With everything I’d been trying to juggle, it must have slipped through the cracks.Not a good enough excuse.
I pulled my computer back in front of me and pulled upmy business bank account. Knowing that I’d be greeted with a message about my overdraft limit. I clicked over to my personal account, which wasn’t much better, and pulled up his payment details.
‘I’ll send this months and last months over to you tonight. Okay?’
He looked like he wanted to argue, but his head dipped in a grateful nod.
‘Boss,’ Steve started, hesitantly. ‘Is everything okay? You don’t look so good.’
That was the understatement of the year. I’d passed my reflection in the mirror this morning as I rushed out the house to make several more unsuccessful calls to the bank. The dark circles under my eyes looked like I’d gone a few rounds in the ring.
My throat felt drier than sandpaper. ‘Everything’s okay.’ The truth I’d only voiced to Rosie burned like acid in my gut. I wasn’t ready to spill it out and let it be my reality.Not yet.Selfishly, I wanted to live in my delusion a little longer.
From the way Steve’s lips thinned, I knew my words hadn’t been convincing. Like the nice guy he was, he didn’t call me on it. I double checked the payment details and the correct amount and sent it through.
‘You should get it in the next couple of days. I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner, Steve. It won’t happen again.’
He stood up, hands aloft, waving away my apology. ‘It’s no bother. Everything’s locked up for the night, so I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He offered me a firm nod, closing the door behind him.
The negatives in my account taunted me. My stomach roiled as I slammed the screen shut.
I needed to see her. I needed to benearher.
As I double-checked everything had been locked up for the night and headed to my truck in the car park, I pulled outmy phone, ready to call her, even just to hear her voice for a few minutes.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw a missed call from Dad ten minutes ago. It must have come through when I was talking to Steve. Pushing my need for Rosie to the side, I got in my truck and called him. It rang out.
Something pricked in the back of my head. I tried his number again and again. Each time, it rang out. I typed out a message and sent it. Drawing my lower lip into my mouth, I waited for those dots to appear at the bottom of the screen.
They never did.
He was probably not anywhere near his phone. Or he was listening to music. He often played the radio loud enough for the neighbours to complain. That’s what it must be.
Making up my mind to stop by his house on the way home, I drove across town. With each mile, an uneasiness settled in my bones. Oliver and I had instilled in Dad to keep his phone beside him, in case he ever needed either of us. Once he’d got used to the technology, he’d got great at texting and calling. And healwaysanswered when I called. Always. I considered calling Oliver to see if he’d heard from him, but I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily when it was probably nothing.
Pulling into his driveway, I turned off the ignition and hopped out. The house was dark. No orange glow spilled through the closed curtains like they usually did at this time of night. His car was still parked in the driveway.
My heart rate sped up.
Without knocking, I slid my spare key into the lock, calling out as I opened it up. ‘Dad? You home?’
The hallway was coated in shadows. A preternatural stillness cloaked the house; goosebumps rose on my skin.
My hands reached out to the light switch on the side of the wall. I winced at the sudden brightness. ‘You here?’
I padded down the hallway to the living room where he usually spent his evenings. Peering around the door, I flicked another light on. Lungs barely able to draw in a breath. A mass of newspapers and day-old mugs of tea littered the coffee table.
The second my eyes connected with the slumped figure in the armchair by the window, the keys I held in my hand crashed to the hardwood floor.
