Though Seb had questions of his own.
How exactly had Helen stepped in to help her friend? The guy had looked seriously pissed off. And how many more people were out there looking for revenge? But Seb couldn’t trust what would come out of his mouth if he talked about the incident now—and staying on the wrong side of this damn dark road was consuming all his remaining energy.
He peered at the silvery beam cast by his headlights. “How much farther?”
Helen sighed. She’d pulled on her old jeans under her dress, replaced her heels with battered running shoes, and like an errant teenager, had drawn the hood of her hoodie over her head. “In a minute, the road forks. Keep right then look out for a white wooden fence on the left and you’ll see an opening. Turn into it and it’ll take you down my lane.”
Seb focused his tired eyes on the tunnel of light in front of him. After his speech, Nadine had told him how affected she’d been by what he’d said, and he’d known then that he wouldn’t have needed much persuasion to get her and Ashley to participate at the opening event. But now, The Wags would be lying low for a few days torecoverfrom the attack, and there’d be no way Seb or anyone else from Get Living could discuss and confirm Weston-super-Mare with them by next weekend.
Okay. The attack tonight wasn’t Helen’s fault, but—dammit—if she hadn’t been there, none of this would’ve happened. No one would’ve gotten splattered in kebabs, The Wags would’ve signed up, and Weston-super-Mare would’ve been the greatest opening to the summer campaign.
Helen Hobbs was a nightmare. His worst one.Seven hours!That’s all he’d spent in her company today and each of those hours had drained him more than any of the most grueling training sessions he’d ever had. And when she directed him down a dark hole of astreet, like divers submerging into the depths of an abyss, his stomach tightened again—he’d made another huge fucking mistake moving in with her tonight.
“This is it! Home sweet home!” Helen’s singsong voice and forced brightness grated his frayed nerves.
Seb switched off the engine and glanced up at the darkened house.
House?
Pah! A witches’ hovel, buried in a deep, dark wood. He half expected smoke to billow out of the chimney and bats to fly by, silhouetted against a full moon. “You livehere?”
The bright smile she’d plastered on her face—presumably an attempt to cheer him up—disappeared. “It looks better when the sun shines, trust me.”
Trust me.
Why did people always feel the need to say that?
Because they weren’t trustworthy, that’s why. Trust wasn’t something you gave out like candy. Trust was earned, and so far, Helen Hobbs hadn’t done a single thing to earn his. If her criminal history wasn’t bad enough, what had happened tonight was …damn!
“Do people often throw food at you?”
“Honestly, Sebastian. The thing with Raz is—”
“You know what? Save it.” He got out of the car. “We’ll talk in the morning. Please just show me to my bed.”
“Ah, well, you see …” She closed her car door and stepped around the hood. “About your bed …”
“What about it?”
“You don’t have one.”
“I … don’t have a … bed?”
“Not exactly.”
Seb closed his eyes. “How exactly?”
“Right now, it’s more a mattress … surrounded by boxes.” She pointed to an upstairs window. “That’ll be your room. It’s got a great view of the apple fields.”
Eyes burning with exhaustion, Helen’s words seeped slowly into Seb’s brain. “Itwillbemy room?”
“From tomorrow. I need to clear it out first. I mean, I had no idea you’d be moving in tonight—or at all. I told you I had stuff to sort out. But please don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
There it was again.
Trust her?
But she’d ruined everything!
