No.
No.
I don’t believe in shit like that, and if I’ve learned anything today beyond the depths of my own stupid stubbornness, it’s that Bhodi doesn’t either.
“What’s your thing?”
“Running away every time things don’t work out.”
Still. I find myself staring after him anyway, lost in the memory of every gentle touch he’s sent my way, until Rudy splats himself against the living room window, killing the moment—or at least, the moment I’ve cooked up in my addled brain.
Shaking my head, I take myself inside and swallow some of the pills from the bag. I need to eat so they don’t burn a hole in my stomach. The junk food cupboard calls my name, and I have the worst sweet tooth. I stuff a couple of Mr Kipling pies in my face before I pass out on the couch.
It’s dark when I wake up, but at this time of year, that means nothing. Could be teatime or midnight, and I don’t much care as the urge to peek at the annex sweeps over me.
Don’t. And I’m saved from testing my willpower by the angry chirp of my phone.
It’s on the floor by the couch and a cold mug of tea. Sab’s face fills the screen and for the first time in days, I don’t feel the compulsion to hide from him.
I answer the video call and wait for it to connect while I swipe the pie box and the un-drunk tea from the floor with my one working hand. It means I have to leave Sab behind and he’s waiting when I come back, scowling up a storm.
“Where did you go?”
“The kitchen.” I rescue him from the arm of the couch and take him upstairs, to the makeshift studio I’m still getting used to, forgetting that Sab doesn’t know I’ve set up shop in the spare room. That he doesn’t knowwhy.
“And where the fuck are you now?”
“Upstairs. What’s wrong with you?”
Sab squints at his phone, his frown deepening. “Are you in the house still?”
“Did you see me go outside?”
“Don’t be a dick.”
It’s tempting to string this out, but I know he’s worried about me, so I put him out of his misery. “I took your advice and got a lodger. Which meant I had to move the studio inside—like you said. And I hate it, just so you know, likeIsaid I would.”
Sab blinks, absorbing the influx of information. Then he laughs, loud and obnoxious. “That’s why you’ve been acting shady for weeks? Because you didn’t want to admit my idea was genius?”
“It’s not genius, it’s common sense.”
“Why didn’t you think of it first, then?”
“I did think of it, I just didn’t want to fucking do it. I still don’t.”
“Why? Is the lodger a creep?”
“No.”
That’s it—that’s all I say. But my brother knows my face as well as his own, and he’s all over whatever he sees so fast I do the only thing I can think of to reroute the incoming train.
I hold up my arm, the casted one that despite the nuclear painkillers coursing through my system, still aches like a bitch. “You were right aboutthis. It’s broken.”
Sab takes the bait and I settle in for a lecture that weaves between French and English so chaotically I’m the sole human on the planet with any hope of understanding him. “You’re an idiot.” He rounds up in English, his Birmingham accent creeping back in. “Next time just cut it off and be done with it.”
“Or,” I counter. “You could shift all that oak from my garage. Then there won’t be a next time.”
“Until you find a new way to nearly die. Now tell me about this fucking lodger.”
