“Ifwewere fucking? Trust me, I’d make an exception.”
The words play on repeat in my head for hours after Bhodi leaves.
Days, in fact.
A week and a half.
Because it's that long before I get to see him again in any real capacity. Bhodi's shift pattern works against us. Then I wake up one morning to find Sab asleep on my sofa, his baby girl in a travel cot behind him, and everything’s fucked.
For him, at least.
I kick his foot for the tenth time in the past hour. “What the fuck are you doing with your life?”
Sab grunts, still ankle-deep in whatever drove him to walk out on his missus and drive all the way here.
He’s not hurt.
Physically.
But for the first time in years, I have no idea where his head is at. “Did you relapse?”
“What?”
“Relapse,” I repeat, balancing Esme on my hip. She’s half asleep and way less annoying than her dad. “As in?—”
“I know what you meant.”
Sab shoves to his feet and stomps to the kitchen.
He comes back with the ragout I’d had grand plans to share with Bhodi tonight if he made it home from the hospital before I passed out. Or for breakfast if it’s the only time I catch him. Now it’s Sab’s brunch and I’m as irritated about that as I am about his sudden need to be fucking coy.
“Stop eating my food and tell me what the fuck’s going on.”
“Where’s your Christmas tree?”
“I haven’t done it yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Because I’ve been waiting for Bhodi to come and choose one with me.BecauseI know it’s one of his favourite parts of Christmas, and he’s probably going to miss everything else. “Don’t change the subject.”
Sab sets his bowl down and sends me a flat look. “Why would I confide in you when the first thing you think is that I’ve been on the fucking sniff?”
“It’s the only thing you’ve ever lied to me about.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“No, I think you’re being a fucking weirdo and that usually means you’ve fucked something up.” I want to shout. But with Esme in my arms, all I manage is a barbed whisper. And maybe, that’s why he brought her. To use as a human shield. “Does Charmaine know you’re here?”
“Charmaine doesn’t care where I go.”
“She cares about Esme.”
Sab snorts. “Does she?”
“Far as I know. You want to tell me something different?”
Sab glares at the floorboards.
