by Shae Banks
“He’s my neighbor’s,” he said from behind me. “She’s visiting family, I look after him when she’s away for a few days.”
I looked over my shoulder, eyebrows pulled in.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said, reading my expression. “Marie is a widow. Sold the family home and bought the apartment next door. Easier to manage.”
I turned back and faced the blank TV screen, still petting the dog. There was something therapeutic about stroking him. I noticed my breathing slow to match the repeated action of my hand running over his head and began to relax.
Callum said I was safe here, and I did feel it. His apartment block was locked up. No one knew I was here. Johnathan couldn’t just turn up and make demands.
“It must be nice having good neighbors,” I said quietly.
I heard him in the kitchen, filling a kettle from the tap. “Don’t you?”
I shook my head. “Never see them, apart from the old guy opposite. I walk his dog for him sometimes if I know he’s sick, but that’s about it.”
The truth was he was as deaf as a post, and the others in the four-flat block were ignorant wankers. I’d screamed earlier. Nobody came to see if I was okay. With the exception of old Pat, there was no community where I lived. It was nice to see some was left somewhere.
The kettle boiled ridiculously quickly, and I listen to the sound of Callum assembling mugs and preparing drinks. I didn’t hear him approaching the sofa.
“Irish coffee,” he said, placing a latte glass on the coffee table in front of me.
He walked around and sat on the furthest cushion from me, putting down his own glass and turning sideways to face me. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t really want him to. I didn’t want to answer his questions, and I had nothing to talk about other than work or Johnathan.
Looking down into the steaming coffee I asked myself how I’d let it get so bad. How had he become the only thing in my life? Had I really not realised he was so possessive?
I was confused. He was treating me like a whore, but was hanging onto me like I meant something more. Why? He had everything he could need. A wife. Children. He even had friends. What could I give him that he didn’t already have?
Movement startled me, and I looked up remembering where I was. Who I was with.
That brought more questions. Why was Callum helping me? What did he want in return?
Huddling deeper into the robe, his robe, I asked, “Will my clothes be long?”
He shook his head. “No more than an hour, but I would rather you stayed here tonight.”
There was nothing malicious in the way he said that, but my stomach clenched, and I felt the need to shuffle further away. I would have had the dog not been in my way. “I’ve imposed—”
“Bekah, I don’t know who you’ve run from tonight, but I think you need some space from them. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll go and stay at the hotel, but I don’t want you to go back to whatever you left. Not tonight.”
I didn’t look at him. Instead I put down my glass and fingered the belt loop of his robe. “I… I’m… I don’t know what to do, Mr. Lowell.”
“Callum.”
I met his gaze. “I can’t keep up with what I’m supposed to call you.”
Lips quirking up on one side, he picked up his coffee. “Callum here. Chef or Mr. Lowell at work. I’d say drop the Mr. Lowell but, you know, boss.”
“I shouldn’t be here…”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“Boss. It’s not really appropriate, is it?” I asked. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, I’d probably still have been sitting out there in the freezing cold without him, but the chef and the waitress was bound to raise a few eyebrows. However innocent it was. “I appreciate your help, but this isn’t really—” I paused. I couldn’t say it out loud.
He drained his coffee and put the glass down. “We aren’t at work. And let’s be honest, these are extenuating circumstances.”
I managed a small smile. “Okay, nobody’s breaking any laws. But it doesn’t look good, does it?”
“If bringing you inside, getting you warmed up, and fed looks bad, then there’s something wrong with the person casting aspersions, Bekah,” he said seriously. “I am curious what could have happened to make you choose the harbor in the rain over your own home, but it’s your business. I don’t want to pry.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I answered, picking up my coffee. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s done with.”
He was watching me. Did he know I was lying? Could he tell?
Johnathan’s words had stayed with me. Do you think it’s that simple?
It should have been. That’s how it worked. You told someone you didn’t want to be with them anymore, and they left.
They didn’t pin you to a wall and force their tongue into your mouth.
I knew he wasn’t going to let me go. He’d torn up the contract I’d signed.
“I hope so,” he said, dragging me from my thoughts. “I know it’s early, but I’m going to bed. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I’m back to it tomorrow. I’ll get your things and leave them on the spare bed.”
He got up from the sofa, taking his empty glass with him, and I sat up straighter unsure of what to do.
“If you decide to go, the doors will lock behind you,” he said from the kitchen. “But you’re welcome to stay. I’d rather you stayed.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. I didn’t turn around.
“Goodnight.”
“Yeah,” I said, making sure to speak loud enough he’d hear. “Goodnight.”
Chapter Seven
“I never get tired of that view.”
He didn’t startle me. He’d made a point of closing his bedroom door loudly enough to let me know he was around.
I shrugged. “Can’t see much, it’s dark.”
He laughed, and I glanced at him. He was wearing sleep shorts and a T-shirt and was standing beside me looking out the glass doors. I looked back out and asked, “How come you’re staying here?”
“I quite literally crash in the flat above the hotel after work, and I live here when I’m off. Being away from there on days off helps me to detach,” he said. I noticed he’d turned to look at me before he asked, “Do you usually get up this early?”
I’d fallen asleep on the sofa while deliberating whether to stay or go and was still wrapped in his robe. There was no sign of a clock anywhere in the room, and I hadn’t taken my bag when I’d fled the flat so didn’t have my phone. It didn’t look too late, judging by how dark it was outside, but it couldn’t be far off sunrise.
“What time is it?” I asked, turning back into the room.
He didn’t move to check a phone or watch but answered, “About five thirty. Why?”
“I have to be at work for seven.”
I looked back to him to see him nod his understanding.
“How many days do you work at the gas station?”
“Five. I’ve managed to pick up some extra hours. My rent went up so I need them.”
“So you work as many hours as you can get there, plus as many as I offer at my place? No wonder you’re spilling soup.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “Have to pay the bills somehow. Can I use the bathroom?”
He smiled and said, “By all means.”
When I came out, he had tea and toast waiting for me on the coffee table.
“Where’s the dog?”
“I took him outside before you woke up and then took him back home. I walk him and keep him company when I’m not doing anything. I’m back to work today, and his owner will be home just after lunch.”
I nodded. “I’m struggling to keep up with the days.”
He frowned. “I think you should call in sick at the station today.”
I looked at him, dropping the slice of toast I’d picked up. “Why?”
He shrugged, wiping the worktop with a cloth. “From here i
t looks like you need some R&R.”
There was a blanket draped over the back of the sofa I hadn’t noticed, I suppose I’d been too preoccupied the night before. It had slipped, laying crumpled, and I picked it up and began to fold it. I came to the tag and noticed it was authentic Harris tweed. That thing was worth more than I spent on rent a week, and he was using it as a casual throw on a sofa he let a dog lie on. That told me all I needed to know. He could never understand. “I wish.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I can’t afford to,” I said. “I don’t work six days a week by choice.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to burn out. I really think you should take the day off, Bekah.”
I wasn’t sure why he gave a shit. He almost fired me for a simple mistake four days before. Now he was offering me comfort and health advice.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t want to see any harm coming to you,” he said, eyes sliding to my wrists where the now yellowing bruises still sat.
I pulled the sleeves of his robe down, covering my hands. “I’m fine.”
“Your loss of concentration, body language, recent weight loss, and bruises on your wrists state otherwise. That’s before we think about your sitting at the end of the pier in the pouring rain, alone, in the dark, in January. It was only two degrees last night. You could have made yourself seriously ill.”
I looked away, rubbing the tops of my arms. There was no way he could understand. He’d lived a charmed life. He didn’t need the restaurant, it was just a hobby for a rich guy. He didn’t know what it was to struggle.
As though he’d heard my thoughts, he added, “If you’re worried about loss of earnings, I’ll pay you triple time for New Year. That should cover it.”
I frowned. Why would he do that for me? What about the others who worked just as many hours as I did in his restaurant? “And everyone else?”
He seemed taken aback but recovered quickly and nodded once. “All of you. If you take the day off today.”
Ultimatums. What was it with guys and their ultimatums?
“And work tonight?” I asked.
He looked at me over the kitchen worktop, bracing his arms on the solid wood surface. “You can take tonight off too, if you agree not to leave this apartment. I won’t be here. You’ll have the whole place to yourself.”
I frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”
He stepped around the kitchen worktop and walked toward me. “Someone drove you to run last night, Bekah. They don’t know you’re here, and since you’re covered in bruises it’s probably best they don’t know your whereabouts for a few days.”
“It’s not like that…” It was a pitiful start to my excuse. The reality was it was precisely like that, and I didn’t even have a key to get into my own flat since I’d bolted without it. Johnathan would have locked up if only to keep his property safe, but I had no idea where he’d leave the keys.
My first thought was the gas station. He’d probably leave them there pretending they’d been dropped outside, and I’d get them when I got in the following morning.
I couldn’t do that if I didn’t go to work.
“It’s kind of you, but I really have to go home.”
Pressing his lips together in a grim line, he nodded. “Let me give you a lift then.”
I shook my head again, getting up. “You’ve done enough. Thank you. I’ll get dressed and out of your way. You have a busy day. Where’s your washing machine? I’ll leave these there.”
He watched me as I walked across the room. I couldn’t read his expression.
Then he left the kitchen and cut me off before I reached the hall.
He kept his distance, a good four paces, and said, “Bekah, whatever is going on–and I don’t know what that is, but I can see it’s hurting you–I want to help. If you need anything, please come to me. Even if it’s just for somewhere safe to stay, just time away from… whatever. Someone to keep you company. Anything.”
He sounded so sincere I almost gave in. I was so tired I could flop down on that sofa and sleep the day away, but it wasn’t an option. I’d had some time. After he’d gone to bed, I’d sat in that room and considered what my options were. The only feasible one was to pay my rent and keep turning Johnathan down while I found a better paid job. Or find another job to tide me over the days I didn’t work in Callum’s restaurant. I’d struggle, but I’d survive. And that was better than going back to my parents. They’d welcome me, but I couldn’t live there again. It was bad enough visiting every few months.
I took a step toward him but something warned me not to get any closer so I stopped and said, “Thank you.”
He frowned. “I haven’t really done anything.”
I smiled, stepping back. “You have. I can’t repay you, but I’m grateful.”
Then I turned and went to the spare bedroom where he’d left my clothes.
I got to work in time to have a coffee and get my head on straight.
Callum had given me a spare toothbrush and a comb so I looked somewhat presentable, but I still felt anxious.
I took my mug and slipped out the back for some fresh air when Julie, my sidekick today, called me through. She was in her late fifties and as broad as she was tall. I loved working with her, she often made me laugh and didn’t mind sharing the workload evenly when deliveries came in. People like Julie were rare.
“This chap found your keys,” she said, gesturing to Jonathan standing on the other side of the counter as I stepped into the shop.
I had expected him to have left them. Not to be delivering them by hand. I tried to force a smile.
“Oh, thanks. Must have slipped out of my coat pocket.”
Julie eyed me, knowing I hadn’t been wearing a coat. It was the first thing she mentioned when I arrived.
Johnathan looked at her, then me. Julie held out her hand for the keys, but he seemed reluctant.
He could suck it up. There was no way I was going somewhere private to speak to him, and Julie knew they were mine. The photo key ring, the image of me two years prior on a night out, proved it.
He gave me a meaningful look as Julie’s fingers closed around the bunch. He released them as he stepped back and said, “Glad to help. Should be more careful. Might not be so lucky next time.”
I held my mug just a little tighter as the shop door opened, the sensor making its usual noise. I looked up to see Callum walking toward the counter.
He saw me, then looked directly at Johnathan, his features hardening briefly before his face split into a broad grin. “Pierce, nice to see you. I hope Sharon isn’t too upset over the little mishap the other night?”
I felt as though I might vomit.
“Nothing the dry cleaner won’t put right,” Johnathan said, heading for the door. “Work calls. I’ll see you later, mate.”
“Feel free to send me the bill,” Callum called after him, reaching the counter. Then he smiled at Julie and said, “Diesel on two, please. Hello, Bekah.”
Julie turned her head and raised her brows at me.
“Callum owns the Georgian,” I explained. Then I looked at him and said, “I didn’t realise you went in this early.”
He smiled. “Paperwork until ten, then prep for tonight.”
“Sixty-two ninety-nine,” Julie said, not taking her eyes from his face.
“I never manage to get it dead on the pound,” he said, presenting his card. He completed the transaction, thanked Julie, then said, “Have a good day, Bekah. I’ll see you tonight.”
I smiled and nodded, watching him leave.
“You’ve been busy,” Julie said, leaving her till and pushing past me to go finish her own drink.
I ignored her, putting down my mug as another customer came in.
Eleven thirty arrived, and I let Julie go for her lunch first. I wasn’t hungry. I was restocking one of the shelves when the door opened signaling a customer had come inside.
They hadn’t gotten
fuel, so I finished the box I was working on and stepped into the aisle that ran through the center of the shop to come face-to-face with Johnathan.
He glanced up to see if Julie was around before saying, “We need to talk.”
My stomach turned over. We were in a public place and there was CCTV recording, but that was small comfort. He didn’t need to touch me to hurt me. When I didn’t say anything, he reached for me and I stepped back. “Touch me, and I’ll phone the police. Stay away from me.”
He clenched his jaw, and I looked at his hands. They were both balled into fists he released when he saw I’d noticed. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, trying to soften his voice. He failed.
I turned away and moved for the counter. “I doubt it. Leave me alone.”
There was a tense few moments where he just stood there glaring at me.
He left before I could shout for Julie, and I instantly felt nauseous.
When Julie finally came back from her lunch break, she took one look at me and said, “You look awful.”
“I bloody feel it,” I said. “Can’t believe I’ve got four hours left.”
She shook her head and pulled out a mobile phone. “See what we can do.”
Ten minutes later, she’d talked Helen into doing an extra four hours, another ten minutes after that I was walking out of work with my keys in my hand.
The problem was I didn’t want to go home. I daren’t. Johnathan obviously wasn’t at work. Or if he was, he knew I had my keys and could just turn up when he left.
I walked out of the gas station and looked to the right, up the hill toward home.
Then I turned left and started walking.
Chapter Eight
As always, the staff door was open. I thought it was a security risk but had never bothered to mention it. Callum had never really been chatty until recently, and I didn’t want to come over as meddling.
The stereo was playing in the empty kitchen, and I called out to see if he were nearby.