What is there to think about? He is the reddest of red flags who checks every box on my ‘avoid’ list. So what if my body melts under his dark allure? My brain is still in charge, and I’m not going to let myself be used as a pawn in whatever game our families are playing.
God—I miss my old life so much.
“Here, let me help,” Jack offers when I struggle to lift my groceries out of the boot, mostly because my hip throbs every time I shift my weight, thanks to Hugo Pike.
Jack helps me carry the bags up to my flat and sets them onthe worktop. I put the eggs in the fridge, watching his rigid frame braced against the door, like he is waiting for the queen to enter.
“Do you have to be so formal all the time?” I ask. “Why don’t you help yourself to some tea and sit down for a change. Looks like you could use the rest.”
He does one of those things. I lean over the counter as he pours himself a cup, then takes his time savoring every sip, still wearing the shades.
“So… what’s the going rate for taking a punch for a stranger nowadays?"
“You’re hardly a stranger, ma’am.” He smiles. “I used to be your nanna’s bodyguard, remember? And this is not on you. It’s part of the job.”
“I see.” I bite my lip. “I’m sorry anyway. Have you spoken to Dan recently?”
“Yesterday,” he answers and my teeth clench.
Him, he talks to. Yet I’m some persona non grata.
How did I go from being sick of seeing Dan’s face every day to getting updates from others about him?
A lump clogs my throat as memories flood in.
Even when he moved out for university, Dan never stayed away for more than a couple of weeks. Back then, I used to hate him coming home and stealing my headphones and snacks. How did I know he would abandon me like this? I regret not spending more time with him while I had the chance. When I don’t feel like punching him anyway.
And still. I need to know if he is okay.
“Is he still in London or did Grandpa ship him off to Mars?” I ask with extra bite.
“And you wonder why he doesn’t return your calls,” Jack quips, lifting his cup and setting it next to the sink.
Naturally, Jack agrees with Grandpa on this matter. But I know how hard our parents worked to build their lives awayfrom London. It took Dan less than a day to abandon their legacy and claim Grandpa’s. That’s what kills me the most.
“I’m not wrong about this,” I say, jutting my chin out.
“If you say so.” Jack nods. “Not my business either way. I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for the tea.”
“He is ok, though, right?” I blurt out, before he leaves.
“As okay as he can be,” Jack replies, his hand pausing on the doorknob.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re not the only one who lost your parents, Eva.” Jack shrugs, then exits the flat, leaving me frozen in the kitchen that suddenly feels ice cold.
I decide to have a quiet night alone in the flat. Penny wanted me to join her at one of her parties, Thea invited me to tag along to her group study, but I’m not in the mood to socialize tonight. My brain feels too cluttered, an invisible weight wearing me down. I hop into the shower, staying a little too long, hoping it will drain some of the burden away. It doesn’t.
Then I begin working on my term assignment. But two long hours later, I only have three paragraphs, and even that warrants a Select All and Delete. I can’t focus, and no matter how hard I try, the words don’t stop dancing. My eyes lift to the clock. It’s half past midnight.
Okay, this assignment is a lost cause. Time to give up.
I sink into my cozy bed with freshly washed sheets, but decide not to take my medication. Instead, I stare at the ceiling, chewing my lips. But neither sleep nor peace wants anything to do with me tonight. Thea’s words sit on my skin, burning an itch I can’t scratch. I groan and pull out my phone, then bring up Instagram to do something I’ve been actively trying to resist for days.
I search forMason Grant.
His profile picture is a dark photo of him on the bike with his helmet on. I’m surprised he didn’t use a smug photo of himself; surely, he has many. The man has two expressions—smug face and murder face.
