Irritation flared in my veins, threatening the disassociation I apparently needed not to be a tetchy bastard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Unused to me arguing with her, Kara’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “It has everything to do with our children, Locke. If you have a partner, I should meet them.”
“Why? Willow’s eighteen next week, Nicky doesn’t give a shit, and I don’t remember you seeking my approval when you shacked up with Bob.”
“That’s becauseyouwere in no fit state to pass judgement on who I chose to have around our kids. This is different.”
“How?”
“Because you hid it from me,” Kara snapped. “So there’s obviously something else going on here.”
My bruised ribs and battered lungs meant I hadn’t smoked much in recent days, but my cigarette cravings suddenly skyrocketed.
I jammed one in my mouth.
Kara planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare light that here.”
“When have I ever done that? And when have I ever had anyone around the kids who wouldn’t fuckin’ die for them? We went over this before Sea Rave.”
“That was before you pulled your disappearing act. Can you blame me for thinking we’re heading back to the days when you used to vanish for months at a time?”
No. Couldn’t blame her at all. But irrational impatience kept me in dickhead mode.
I slipped the cigarette behind my ear and stepped off the porch. “I’m not doing this with you today. If my relationship status is really that important to you, ask me like a normal person instead of getting our fuckin’ son to do it for you.”
Fuck this.
I left Kara where she stood and stomped back to Orla’s Toyota, and god-fuckin’-damn, it felt good to open my mouth and let the world fall out.
At least, it did for the six seconds it took me to get back in the car and drive away. Then the lie kicked me in the dick, cos guilt was a wicked, fucked up thing.
Five minutes down the road, I snatched up my phone to apologise.
Locke:sorry. i’m tired.
Now that was the truth. I didn’t wait on Kara’s reply. I dropped my phone on the passenger seat and drove away, already dreaming of Nash’s bed, preferably with him in it, doing sweet things to my sore body while Orla curled into my other side. And by sweet things, I meant non-sexual. Couldn’t remember the last dirty thought I’d had. Just that it had beenbefore.
My phone buzzed again. Tension flooded me, but it wasn’t Kara.
Saint:at band practice
I trusted him, and it should’ve been enough to know he was there. That he’d kept my kid safe the whole time I’d been gone. But I was stressed to fuck and it wasn’t. Despite the longing in my heart for Nash and Orla, I had to see for myself, and I knew I wouldn’t rest until Willow was in her own bed.
Fighting sickness, I drove to Maddie’s house—a flat-roofed end of terrace that I’d been lurking around since Willow had gone for her first sleepover. Back when I’d been a jaded firefighter parent instead of merely a shit one.
I knew the best spot for scoping the place out. For observing from a distance without the neighbours calling the old bill.
I’d been there less than a minute before Saint ghosted to my side.
“She’s okay.” His voice was rough with disuse but easy enough that I didn’t feel bad for making him speak.
I didn’t have much of a response for him, though. And he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned against a tree, watching the house, watching me, all to the soundtrack of Willow’s dubious cover band. It was a harsh fact that her mates weren’t as natural with their instruments as she was.
An off-key rendition of an Elastica track filtered out of the house—bad vocals, tragic guitar, some off-beat drumming that made my already fucked-up ears bleed.
I shot Saint an apologetic glance. “Sorry about this.”
Saint never responded to anything like anyone else did. But his quizzical frown caught me off guard.
