Текст книги "The body painter"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Ten

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

“THE JOB IS yours, Miss Moss. If you’d like to join our team, of course.”

Sitting on the bus, travelling from downtown to the industrial area, I ran through the interview in my mind. The women’s nasally voice repeated in my brain. “The job is yours, Miss Moss. The job is yours.”

It was a good thing they’d offered employment.

A great thing.

However, I couldn’t quite get excited, which made me feel like a terrible human being.

I’d accepted graciously, gratefully, and taken the contract to read overnight. They wanted me to start tomorrow. The salary was shockingly terrible, but the job didn’t demand highly skilled people—merely desperate ones to answer the phones, troubleshoot the website, and be a general ‘fetch-it girl’.

I had nothing against office culture or cubicles, but it didn’t inspire me. It didn’t make me use the gifts I’d been given...and lost. It didn’t grant the right nutrition I needed for my damaged dancer’s soul.

Ah, well.

I was lucky. Extremely so.

I had a job.

I had security.

And I was ten minutes away from seeing Gil one last time.

* * * * *

Nerves bubbled and popped as I approached Gil’s warehouse.

The graffiti with his business name reminded me of the artwork he’d shown me one night so many years ago. The closed roller door symbolic of his talent at shutting me out when I was so, so sure he’d felt just as strongly for me as I’d felt for him.

I’d been wrong then and made a spectacle of myself chasing after him.

I hope I’m not making the same mistake.

I hadn’t slept much last night—our kiss on repeat in my brain. If I’d blown it into something more than what it was, then that was my fault. But if I remembered it correctly, then there had been something between us.

Something worth fighting overpayment, angry curses, and a closed off painter who could no longer stand the sight of me.

Approaching the building, I sucked in a breath and squared my shoulders. My office skirt and pale pink blouse seemed out of place when I’d stood naked only yesterday.

My modest heels clicked as I slowed to a stop outside the pedestrian access.

I hesitated.

Should I knock? Enter with no announcement?

Masculine voices sounded inside.

I narrowed my eyes against the animosity bleeding through the door.

Was Justin here? Were he and Gil fighting again?

I leaned closer, pressing my ear to the door. A curt command garbled, followed by the heavy thud of violence.

A grunt exploded, but no shout followed.

Gil.

Instincts roared into life, old habits of caring, annoying impulsions to fight for those in trouble.

Rapping my knuckles on the door, I tried the handle. “Hello?”

Locked.

Another curse. Another thud.

“Gil?!”

I backed up, looking for another way in. Hoisting my handbag higher, I spun on my heel, seeking anyone close by for assistance.

No people to enlist. All alone.

In front of me sat a dinged-up black van. A large scratch marred the glossy paint while a dent on the driver’s door hinted the owner didn’t care it wasn’t pristine.

Justin drove a sedan, I was pretty sure, so who—

The clang of metal whipped my head around as the pedestrian door swung open then crashed shut, spitting a man from Gil’s warehouse.

I froze.

It definitely wasn’t Justin.

The man scowled at his knuckles, smearing a line of blood glistening on them. His scowl snaked into a smirk then a nasty chuckle.  The blood vanished as he wiped the back of his hand on his jeans.

Not his blood.

My heart rate skyrocketed. Was this the man who’d hurt Gil last time? The reason for his cut lip and sore arm? And if so, why was he here and walking without injury? Gil wasn’t exactly someone you could pick on and not earn a severe beating in return.

The man looked up as I inhaled sharply.

His face might’ve been considered handsome if he didn’t have such a heartless sneer in his grey gaze. In his early fifties, his thin lips and square jaw weren’t off-putting, but the brown, untended to hair hanging over his collar was. Just a mess of grease.

“Who the hell are you?” He watched me closely as if he’d stumbled onto something interesting.

Chills broke out over my arms. Chills that had nothing to do with the Birmingham weather and everything to do with the cold-hearted specimen in front of me.

My chin tilted regally. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The guy chuckled. “You’re in the middle of no-man’s land, sweetheart. I’d just answer my question like a good girl.” He grinned like a snake, stepping closer. “You lost? All alone?”

I ignored the way my kneecaps jumped, my legs tingling to run. “I’m not lost. I know my way around.”

“Do you just?” He licked his lips, that damn smirk grating on my nerves. “Know your way around other things too, I bet.”

I didn’t stoop to his level to answer that.

I’d wasted enough time on this cretin. Moving toward Gil’s warehouse, I paused as the guy muttered, “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He laughed coldly. “Not unless you like seeing blood.”

My insides turned to lead. “What did you do?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend.”

The longer I stood there, the louder my instincts became. They didn’t just dapple me in worry, they hijacked my nervous system.

Something wasn’t right.

Something wasn’t safe.

Gil.

Skirting past him, I held my head high, estimating twenty steps before I could tumble into Gil’s warehouse and be free.

But I’d made a mistake.

I should never have gotten so close.

He let me walk past, then a hand clamped over my shoulder from behind. All five fingers dug into my flesh with punishment that should never be used, especially on a complete stranger. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

I spun in his hold, whipping my arm up and breaking his hold on me. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

My speed shocked him; his fingernails left hot tracks on my flesh. Our eyes locked, hunter to victim. I glowered back with far more ferocity than I felt.

His face shadowed with rage before clearing with a slightly manic laugh. “You know...I like fighters. Always turn out to be the most fun.”

I wanted to stand my ground, but I couldn’t override adrenaline. Stumbling back, my handbag bashed against my side. “Just go away. Leave us alone.”

“Us?” His eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze shooting from me to Gil’s warehouse. “You two together?” Hazy sunlight highlighted his cheek, showing a silver scar running from his eye to the corner of his mouth. “Has that naughty boy been hiding you from me?”

I didn’t know what he meant.

I didn’t care.

Fumbling in my handbag, I searched for my cell phone. “Leave now or I’m calling the police.”

He shook his head, still wrapped up in the idea that Gil had someone to stand beside him, that he wasn’t so alone. Slowly, an evil conclusion soaked into his grey gaze. “He knows what’s his is mine.” Looking me up and down, he snapped, “Get in the van.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get in the fucking van. Now.”

“No way.” I found my phone, ripping it out with quaking limbs. My thumb trembled as I unlocked the screen and tried to dial the emergency number.

He launched forward, reaching for it.

I held it out of his reach, only for it to tumble to the gravel thanks to my slippery fear.

“Stay away from me.” I back-peddled out of his reach.

“Get in the van, sweetheart. Your pathetic body painter doesn’t want visitors right now.”

“How would you know?”

“I know him better than you think.” His voice held the melodic rasp of an older person who should be wiser and kinder than most. If it wasn’t for the malicious stare and dirty hair, he could’ve been the sweet neighbour or family friend.

My eyes flickered to his van, then back to his gaze. For a second, I wondered if this was a sick joke. Surely, this couldn’t be real.

It was daylight.

It was England.

But the lack of humour and deadly seriousness of his intention made ice tumble down my spine. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave and I won’t press charges.”

He nodded as if I’d made a valid point. He laughed as if my point was utterly ridiculous. “See, that’s where we have differences of opinion.” His attention shot to the warehouse behind me, then slithered over my body. “If you’re his, he knows better. You’re coming with me. I won’t ask again.”

“Don’t come near me.”

He ignored my warning, prowling closer, assessing my escape routes.

I literally only had one option.

Run.

Run as fast as I could to Gil’s and bang on his door and hope to God whatever this man had done to him left him conscious and in some capacity to help.

The long length of warehouses with its aura of downtrodden-ness and alleyways wouldn’t save me at all.

Run!

Despite my injuries and surgeries, I was still strong. Strong and swift from all the years of dancing and discipline at not giving in.

I wasn’t afraid of hurting someone if they hurt me. I’d never been a wilting flower. I was vicious if enemies tried to hurt me and mine.

But I also knew when to fight and when to flee.

I ran.

Gravel scattered beneath my heels as I turned and bolted.

My handbag swung against my side. I left my phone abandoned.

I pushed as much energy and speed into my legs as possible and chewed up distance. “Gil!”

Footsteps raced after me.

Slithering arms wrapped around me from behind, locking tight.

“Let go of me!”

His breath gushed harsh in my ear as he dragged me backward, despite my struggling. His hands were claws, his embrace a shackle, his strength far greater than mine.

“No!”  I squirmed and stomped on his foot. “Gil!” My screech echoed off the warehouses, bouncing back to me unanswered.

His grunt was loud as he clutched me closer, kicking my legs out from under me and hauling me backward. His palm fumbled over my mouth, trying to silence me.

I raised my head to the sky, and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help!”

“Quiet,” he hissed in my ear, dragging me another foot.

I fought and scrabbled, scratching and clawing, but despite his age and slim build, his wiry strength bit into me like painful barbwire.

Gil’s warehouse grew farther away as the van’s shadow came closer.

If he got me into that van, it was all over.

My handbag swung uselessly down my arm, bumping heavily with resume folders, keys, and a large aluminium water bottle.

Throw it.

The command came from basic survival. I had no weapon. No hope. I had one chance.

Eyeing up the roller door, I caught my bag strap as it tumbled from my shoulder.

I didn’t aim for my attacker.

I aimed for Gil’s warehouse.

He tried to stop me—his arm whacked against mine and he kicked at my legs again.

But it was too late.

I let the bag loose. It sailed forward.

My heart plummeted as the bag arched and fell toward earth—without touching the door. Its spilled contents went flying, cartwheeling everywhere, the heavy water bottle was my saving grace.

It crashed against the door.

The loud twang as it bounced off the metal echoed around us.

Hope flared.

Triumph heated.

But my attacker merely pulled me harder. “You’ll pay for that.”

Sucking in a breath, I twisted sharply in his arms. He narrowed his eyes as our noses almost brushed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Bracing myself for pain, I arched back and whacked his head with mine.

Agony blinded me with a mushroom cloud of torment. Red haze claimed every sense.

He stumbled back, still holding me. I stumbled with him, deaf and struggling from the pressure I’d struck him with.

I tried to slam my knee between his legs.

I was too woozy and missed the vitals.

A noise sounded behind me.

A noise from a wild animal provoked from its den.

Something bowled into both of us. A loud growl ripped through the blood pounding in my ears as Gil launched himself at the man, tackling me in the process.

We all tumbled to painful gravel, legs knotted, lungs empty of air, arms and hands grabbing anything they could.

A pair of strong arms ripped me from the attacker, tossing me to the side as the fight increased in violence.

Rolling to my knees, sucking in hungry breaths, I gasped as Gil managed to get the guy flat on his back in a matter of seconds. With an angry huff, he pinned his shoulders to the floor as easily as if the guy had been a mere pest and not a threat to my life.

He’d always been strong.

But this—the way his nostrils flared, and his teeth clenched with aggression—he was a demigod with unlimited power. He could kill him with a single squeeze.

My head pounded as my fists curled, wanting to hit the guy myself. Why wasn’t Gil hurting him? Why was his temper so controlled?

The longest moment ticked by before Gil suddenly punched the gravel by the stranger’s head, then leapt to his feet.

What the hell? He’s letting him go?

Gil shook out his hand with a grimace, his anger hot and volatile, yet he didn’t deliver his wrath on the guy who deserved it.

I scrambled to my feet, shaking away the rest of the stars. “Gil...wh-what are you doing?”

He held up his hand, silencing me with a snarl. “Shut up, Olin. Just shut up. This doesn’t concern you.”

The rage that’d been directed at the attempted kidnapper found a new target. I trembled with fire and ice. “What did you just say? This doesn’t concern me?” I threw my hands up, blood trickling from my palms from grappling on gravel. “He just tried to kidnap me!”

The guy smirked, slowly climbing to his feet. He snickered under his breath as he kept his gaze on Gil’s. “You didn’t tell me you were with someone, Gilbert.”

Gil squeezed his eyes for a second, his jaw working as if he chewed tough meat. “I’m not. She’s nobody. A mere inconvenience.”

I wanted to curl around the explosion he caused in my chest.

“She said to leave us alone.” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Us implies together.”

“There is no us.” Gil’s hot, livid gaze found mine. “She’s just a model who won’t obey a simple instruction to stay the fuck away from me.”

I stumbled backward.

What?

“You know I don’t put up with liars,” the guy muttered. “And I think you’re lying.”

Gil’s hands curled by his sides, turning snowy white he clenched so hard. “There is no us. I promise you.”

What the hell is going on?

“I also don’t put up with arseholes who don’t keep their side of the bargain.” The guy cracked his knuckles. “You know that, don’t you, Gilbert.”

Gil chewed some more, his throat working as he swallowed back words that strangled him. His eyes flashed with soul-deep hatred, but he looked at the ground, his head bowing in submission. “I know.”

What is this?

“Do you?” The guy rubbed his chin. “I’m not so sure you do.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You’ve ensured I know explicitly.”

“Prove it.” The guy raised his chin with challenge.

Gil turned on me, fury dripping from his trembling body and agony glowing on his face. “Leave, Olin. I told you I wasn’t interested. I paid you for your time. What more do you fucking want from me, huh?”

“Leave? You want me to leave?” I shook my head, pointing at my belongings strewn on the ground. “I’m not leaving you, Gil. I’ll grab my phone. We’ll call the police and have this bastard arrested.”

“There is no we!” Gil snarled like a wolf.

I flinched, backing up as his rage became a physical slap.

“Go. I’m done with this.” Ripping his gaze from mine, he turned his attention to the guy. Gil was twice the man this wannabe kidnapper would ever be. His arms were double the size; his waist chiselled from granite compared.

With the two so close, it was laughable to think Gil couldn’t kill his opponent with a single, well-placed punch.

But every threat and warning vanished from Gil’s body. It no longer hummed with power. It hunched in humbleness.

The way he stood with such suffocation and submission brought tears to my eyes.

With a broad smile, spreading blood over white teeth, the kidnapper pulled back his arm, then slammed his fist with every ounce of strength into Gil’s belly.

Gil groaned, but he didn’t go to his knees. He didn’t wrap arms around himself. He merely stood there and accepted the torture.

I couldn’t stop myself.

Dashing in front of Gil, I pushed the guy away. “Don’t touch him! Just go. Leave!” I glanced at his van, quickly memorising the number plate. The second he was gone, I’d call the police. He’d be tracked down and imprisoned so no one else had to deal with his level of crazy.

Gil tossed me to the side, forcibly removing my protection. “For fuck’s sake, Olin.” His eyes flashed, reminding me all over again of the nastiness he was capable of. “I told you to go! Don’t make me hurt you.”

You already did.

His face shadowed with agonising things.

The love he hid.

The hate he nursed.

I was lost.

Utterly, totally lost.

“Whatever is going on, Gil...walk away. Don’t stand there while he punishes you. At the very least, fight back!”

His voice cracked with things I couldn’t understand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough to understand this isn’t right.”

Shoving me away—just like he had when we were younger—he bared his teeth. “Go.”

His face was blank, pure ice.

No sign of salvation. No beg for help.

I spread my hands helplessly. “Gil...come with me.”

He shook his head and, pushing me resolutely to the side, bared himself to the kidnapper.

With a savage smile, the man pounced on Gil as if they had a standing arrangement. Gil grunted as another blow landed.

I shouted, “Stop it!”

Neither man listened to me.

I tried to protect Gil, but I wasn’t quick enough as another punch landed on his jaw. He didn’t retaliate. Didn’t flinch. He stood stoic and broken even as fresh blood trickled from his cheekbone. He kept his head high as the man spun and kicked him in the stomach.

This time, he did fall.

“Stop it!”

Slamming to one knee, he looked like a knight waiting for a sword to complete the sentence. But even on the ground before his attacker, he was undefeatable. He might not retaliate with violence, but his entire demeanour shouted invincible.

Why is he doing this?

Tears once again burned my eyes as the guy bent down and grabbed a fistful of Gil’s unruly hair. “You have three days.” He spoke with anger, spraying spit over Gil’s face.

He flinched but didn’t try to get free. “Three days.” He nodded as if he’d struck a bargain written by the devil.

The guy let him go, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t fuck up, Gilbert. You know what happens if you do.”

Gil shut his eyes as if the consequences were too much to bear. “I know.”

The guy sniffed as if annoyed at Gil’s obedience, swung another punch into his temple, and laughed as Gil crashed to the ground, unconscious.

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Chapter Eleven

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

I RAN.

The second the guy stepped away, I bolted to Gil’s unconscious form and fell to his side. “Don’t you dare come near us again,” I hissed, cradling Gil’s head on my lap, my knees on fire from skidding on gravel, my heart a drum in every extremity.

The guy shook out his sore knuckles from punching the one person I’d do anything for. “There’s that dangerous word again.” He grinned. “Us.”

“Fuck off,” I spat.

I didn’t care that he might try to kidnap me again. I didn’t stop to think about my safety. All I cared about was helping the boy I’d always helped. Patching up his wounds and repairing his injuries. The boy who’d always helped me in return.

This was a role I was used to.

This was a man I would defend until the end.

“I’d be careful if I were you, sweetheart.” The guy backed toward his vehicle. “Those associated with Gilbert always have a habit of getting hurt.” Blowing me a kiss and looking at Gil with a sneer, he chuckled. “I’ll be seeing ya.”

Turning his back on both of us, he swaggered to his van, slammed the door, and drove off with a squeal of tyres, kicking up dust and a swirl of exhaust.

I didn’t move until the van vanished at the bottom of the warehouse driveway, turning into traffic and leaving us alone.

Bastard.

My gaze dropped to Gil’s slack, blood-smeared face. “Gil.” Brushing his messy, dark hair from his eyes, I expected a fierce command to stop touching him. A snap to leave. A grumpy slur asking why I’d disobeyed him. Again.

But he didn’t move.

And that terrified me worse than any shout he could deliver.

I stroked his stubble-covered cheek. “Come on. He’s gone. Let’s get inside.”

Still no response.

His body lay sprawled on the ground. One arm covered his chest while the other lay awkwardly beneath him.

“Gilbert...” I rocked his shoulder gently, looking up to see if anyone working in the neighbouring warehouses had seen and could offer aid.

At no point did I think about leaving. I could never in good conscious walk away from Gil even if he didn’t want me in his life. Even if he’d told me in no uncertain terms to stay away.

I’d been the only one he’d trusted to nurse him.

That probably hadn’t changed.

“Why did you let him beat you up for goodness’ sake?” I brushed his arm away, exposing his throat, searching for a pulse. I struggled with unhappiness, not able to accept mindless violence or acts of stupidity.

And this was both.

Gil had been so stupid to allow such a thing. No reason on earth could justify letting someone beat you unconscious.

My thumb found his pulse, relief shooting through me.

“Why didn’t you fight back, huh?” I whispered, running my finger over his bottom lip, checking he still breathed, not quite trusting the throb of blood in his veins.  “Was he the one who hurt you the first day I came here?”

I knew my questions would remain unanswered but my voice seemed to soothe him.

The tension in his body faded. His chest rose and fell with a deeper breath.

“Are you in some sort of trouble, Gil?” I kneaded his shoulder, doing my best to wake him gently. “What are you involved in? Why are you so determined to make me hate you, all while I know you don’t...not truly.”

If I truly believed in the icy monster he did his best to portray, my heart wouldn’t prod me to stay. It would accept the truth and move on. But Gil was hiding something. Something scary and secretive and the weight was too much for him to bear.

“Come on, time to wake up.” I bent and brushed away a piece of gravel on his forehead. “Please, open your eyes.”

He moaned under his breath.

My stomach knotted with heavier relief.

Once again, I felt that string. Knitting together, doing its best to tie its broken ends back together again.

As much as Gil would like to deny it, an unbreakable chain bound us.

It always had.

Ever since we’d stood in that school corridor and I’d told him the truth about my parents, I’d been tied to him.

He hadn’t judged me.

He hadn’t pitied me.

He’d just shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Like I was strong enough to survive without them because he was now my friend.

He’d saved me then.

And he saved me now.

If he hadn’t come out, I’d probably be gagged and trussed in the back of the van heading to who the hell knew where.

He’d rescued me reluctantly.

It was my turn to repay the favour and save him.

“I’ll give you another minute.” Placing his head carefully on the ground, I climbed to my feet and quickly gathered up my belongings scattered on the ground. Shoving them into my handbag, I used my phone to email myself the license plate of the van before my memory played tricks on me.

I didn’t care what arrangement Gil had with him. That guy was a menace and deserved to rot in jail.

With the email sent, I slipped my phone into my bag, checked that the envelope with Gil’s cash was still inside, and headed back toward him.

He didn’t move as I ducked to my haunches and pressed shaking fingertips to his temple, running my fingers through his hair.

So soft.

So warm.

So real and familiar and alive.

I swallowed back another wash of untenable heartache. I missed touching him. I missed having that privilege.

My touch roused him enough for him to groan. Licking his lips and the blood staining them, he moaned as pain took over.

“Hey, I’m here. You’re okay.”

He pushed off from the ground, his forehead furrowed. I helped him into a sitting position, wedging my shoulder under his arm. “Come on. We need to get inside.”

“Wh-what are you still doing...here?” he grunted, testing parts of his bruised body as he clambered to his feet. He tried not to put weight on me, but he swayed and shook his head, giving me a chance to wrap an arm around his waist.

He was solid and strong, and my heart skipped a beat.

His eyes narrowed once the vertigo left him. “Don’t touch me, O. I told you to go.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“A blatant disregard of my command.”

“I’m helping you.”

“I don’t want your help. How many times do I need to tell you?”

“Too bad. You’ve got it.” Tugging him in the direction of his warehouse, my temper steadily rose. My question wasn’t so gentle this time. “What were you thinking, huh?”

He didn’t reply, half trying to shove me away, half doing his best not to show he needed my support.

“You wouldn’t understand.” His legs were stable, even if his mind still swam with unbalance, and it didn’t take long to step through the pedestrian access and close the door behind us.

“Try me. I might understand more than you think.”

“I already know you can’t.” He winced, rubbing his belly where that arsehole’s foot had connected.

The familiar warehouse welcomed me back as I walked its painting master over the large work area, unsure where to take him. “Do you have a bed here?”

“None of your business.”

I shook him. “Answer me. The sooner I find you something soft to rest on, the sooner I can leave.”

“As if that will ever happen.”

I pinched his side. “Save your energy for healing, not answering back.”

His eyebrows settled low over frustrated eyes. “I have a small apartment in the back.” He pointed the way with a tilt of his head. “Through the office.”

“See? Was that so hard?”

He huffed, dark and miserable. “Harder than you’ll ever know.” He looked away, not letting me catch his gaze.

My heart beat painfully as I held him tight, and we shuffled through his office together. Papers scattered the only desk. No chair. No filing cabinets. His method of records archaic.

Reaching the door to his apartment, he froze. His hand landed on my shoulder, pushing me resolutely away. “I’m not an invalid.”

“You might fall.”

“I won’t.”

I let go, even though it felt like needles of coldness without him close.

He swayed, catching himself against the wall. I gritted my teeth to prevent saying ‘I told you so’ as he wedged a palm into his temple, blinking back stars. We had a lot of messiness between us, we didn’t need petty quips too.

“You’ll feel better when you sit down.” I followed him as he pushed off the wall and led me into a tiny lounge. My eyes skittered over the space. A TV that’d seen better days, a couch that looked recycled, and a kitchen that held no clutter or signs of being used.

The industrial tone of the warehouse flowed into his residential abode with harsh brick, exposed metal, and no-nonsense decorations.

The only thing brightening up the space was the back wall where two doors remained closed, bordered with graffiti I had no doubt Gilbert had done.

It had his signature all over it.

A vibrant wash of reds and greens, purples and blues. A tropical rainforest with palm trees, heliconias, and parrots flying in the fronds.

“Wow.” I stopped, noticing where the spray paint ran a little to give the illusion of muggy humidity, where he’d feathered the colour to give parrot wings depth and flight.

My voice barely registered as I said, “You always were amazing with a can of spray paint.”

He’d shown me some of his work when we were younger, proudly revealing his after-dark hobbies. He’d almost kissed me while pinning me against one. I’d almost offered him my virginity, all because I couldn’t stand to be so in awe and so in love with him and not claim every inch of him for my own.

He muttered something under his breath, something harsh and cutting.

I was glad I didn’t hear it as he inched toward the fake leather couch with holes in its cushions and lay down. His eyes closed, his forehead furrowing with deep tracks.

My heart squeezed unbearably as I ghosted forward. “What can I do for you?”

His lips thinned as I stopped by his side. Keeping his eyes resolutely shut, he murmured, “Go home, Olin. I’m fine.”

Ducking to my haunches, I laid a hand on his head, my fingers slinking through his hair. “Please...don’t turn me away.”

He turned to stone. His teeth sank into his bottom lip. His entire body vibrated as if he broke beneath my touch. A giant fissure through his chest. An earthquake in his soul. The couch creaked as he jerked his head away, trying to free himself from my touch.

I let my hand trail down, fingertips crying for more.

“Just lie there. I’ll look after you.” A phrase I’d uttered before. A phrase he knew I meant. No matter what’d happened between us, I would always look after him.

Gil didn’t say a word as I moved around the small lounge and into the kitchen. Opening wooden cabinets, I searched for a glass. Instead, I found bare essentials. Only a couple of each item, mostly chipped and well-worn, a couple of plastic cups and bowls only suitable for children. Splodges of dried paint decorated them, signalling they weren’t used as utensils but for means of holding pigment.

Sighing, I grabbed the least chipped glass and filled it with water. Taking it to Gil, I placed in on the low coffee table, shoving aside an unfinished sketch of a blue whale. “Where do you keep your painkillers, Gil?”

This time no argument or angry commands. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Medicine cabinet. In the bathroom.”

I didn’t ask for permission to enter a more personal part of his home just off the kitchen. I didn’t need to second-guess why there were multiple boxes of different pain relief hidden behind the mirror above the pedestal sink.

I doubted the habit of having such drugs close by would stop anytime soon, especially seeing as he’d allowed that bastard to hurt him.

He’d done nothing to protect vitals. Nothing to prevent damage.

He could have internal bleeding from being kicked in the stomach or a concussion from being knocked out.

He should see a doctor.

But he won’t.

Gil didn’t have a fond relationship with doctors, thanks to his past. He said he didn’t want his dad to be arrested for what he did to him, but I knew he didn’t want to be taken away from me and put into foster care.