She shut it carefully behind him. He supposed, if she slammed it the way she so clearly wanted to, it’d be more fodder for Mr. Clarke’s rumour mill.
Chapter Twenty
I’ll be leaving early again,” Zach said. “But I’m hoping to finish the wall piece. I don’t want you doing that.”
“You mean I’m not capable of doing that.” Zach was the artist. Evan’s work was purely functional.
He checked the oxygen valve in his cooling blowtorch before setting it down and pulling off his goggles. If Zach was hovering around, it was time to take a break.
Sure enough, the other man was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. Waiting.
“Don’t kill yourself over it,” Evan continued. “If you finish, you finish. If you don’t, leave it to me.”
“I leave everything to you,” Zach murmured. Trying to hide the hint of bitterness in his voice. Evan knew that the bitterness wasn’t for him.
“You can’t do everything. You know, I…” This was the part where Evan explained his own past, where Zach finally understood why Evan cared so fucking much about this. But the words seemed too big and sharp to push out of his throat. They hurt on the way up.
In the end, it didn’t matter. He was saved from confession by an unlikely source.
Daniel Burne shoved his broad shoulders past Zach, jarring the other man without hesitation. He stormed over to Evan as if they were meeting on the battlefield, his pretty face twisted.
“Miller,” he spat, jabbing a finger in the air. Evan eyed that finger with annoyance. He had a sudden and strong desire to snap it in two.
Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “What?”
Daniel blinked—as if a response of any kind was so unexpected that it had thrown off his rant. “I... You...” After a moment’s floundering, he refocused. “You don’t listen too good, do you?”
“Actually,” Evan said, “I listen very well. I am an excellent soldier.” But you are not my superior.
“You’re not any kind of soldier here,” Daniel sneered. “You’re a subject. And I’m the fucking king.”
Evan’s brows rose at the sheer teenage immaturity of that statement. Daniel didn’t seem even slightly embarrassed by the words that had just come out of his mouth. Fascinating.
“I thought I told you about that girl,” Daniel snapped.
Ah. So this was about Ruth. Evan pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. He dug his short nails into his own flesh, out of sight. Call it a pre-emptive measure. Because he was 100% sure that he was about to lose his fucking temper.
“You did,” Evan said. “I ignored you.”
He still remembered Daniel’s words, the day they’d bumped into Ruth. You’re really pissed? Over a girl like her?
Daniel came forward, green eyes blazing as he invaded Evan’s space. All his insistent charm was gone now, as if it had never existed. “I’m warning you,” he spat. “Stay away. You don’t mess with a girl like her, not while you work for Burne & Co. She’s bad fucking news and my father agrees.”
Evan felt like he’d been treading water easily, only for an undercurrent to catch him without warning. My father agrees. What the hell did that mean? Was Daniel threatening his job? Was Mr. Burne threatening his job?
“What the fuck is your problem?” Evan demanded, his patience slipping. In the doorway, he saw Zach, eyes wide and head shaking frantically. The message was clear. Whatever you’re about to do, don’t.
Evan was too pissed off to listen. His rational mind screamed that this job was a dream come true, and positions in his specialism were hard to find, and he couldn’t just move somewhere else and start over. He ignored his rational mind the same way he ignored Zach.
“Are you jealous?” He asked Daniel. “Is that what this is?” Because suddenly, that was exactly how it seemed.
Daniel sneered. “Why the fuck would I be jealous of that? Half the town’s had her.”
“You sent the flowers, didn’t you?”
That wiped the smirk off Daniel’s face. He stuttered—actually stuttered—“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you fucking do.” Evan stepped closer, crowding Daniel right the fuck back, fury flooding him. Everything was coming together, now. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. “You want her,” he said. “You had her, and now you don’t, and you want her.”
Which meant that Daniel… Daniel was Ruth’s ex. The guy she was kind of with. The guy who hurt her.
“You’re delusional,” Daniel choked out. “I wouldn’t touch that bitch if you paid me.”
Evan barely heard him. He was remembering, with dawning horror, everything Daniel had ever said about Ruth—said to Ruth—and the way she hesitated before touching anyone, and the look on her face when she’d seen those fucking flowers.
“I’m just looking out for you, mate,” Daniel said. His tone was reasonable now, soothing. He stepped back. “You know you’ll catch something, laying down with that.”
It was Zach who caught Evan’s flying fist, stopping its trajectory towards Daniel’s smug face. It was Zach who filled Evan’s blurring world, forcing himself between the two warring men.
“You have to calm down,” he gritted out, his eyes burning into Evan’s. He wrapped a hand around the back of Evan’s neck and squeezed, hard. “Listen to me. Listen to me. Calm. Down.”
Evan become gradually aware of the speed of his laboured breathing, the frantic pound of his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to count to ten. Then he counted back from ten to one.
By the time he’d regained control, Daniel was gone.
Thank God.
Zach stepped back, eyeing Evan wearily. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” He ran a hand over his face as if that would hide the lie. “Jesus. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”
The other man shook his dark head. “Come with me.”
Zach led him into the break room and shoved him into a chair, his hand hard on Evan’s shoulder. Hard enough to chase away the last dizzying dregs of rage.
“Take a breath,” Zach ordered. His voice, the familiar cadence of a command, soothed Evan. “I don’t know what that was about,” Zach said, “but I do know that beating the shit out of the boss’s son is not a good idea. For many, many reasons.”
Evan bore those words in mind, tightening his grip on his composure. “I know. I... thank you. For stopping me.”
“Stop thanking me. We both know I owe you more than that.”
Their gazes met for a moment. Just long enough for Evan to see more gratitude in the other man’s eyes than he’d ever expected.
It made Evan uncomfortable, when people thought they ‘owed’ him. He didn’t do the right thing for credit. He did it because he had to.
“You want a cuppa?” Zach asked suddenly.
“Yeah.” Evan’s shoulders relaxed. “Please.”
Zach turned towards the little kitchenette, filling up the kettle. Now that his back was to Evan, that desperate gratitude was invisible. Thank God. Its weight was suffocating.
“So you’ve got a girl,” Zach said. “And Daniel doesn’t like it.”
Evan let out a sigh. “I don’t know what his problem is. He’s married, isn’t he?”
“Daniel Burne has never let a little thing like marriage stop him from getting what he wants.” Zach fiddled with tea bags and grabbed milk from the fridge. “Who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Ruth.”
Zach paused, every muscle in his broad back frozen. “Ruth Kabbah?” He asked, voice slightly incredulous.
Evan wished he could see the other man’s face.
Relaxing back in his seat, he crossed his arms to hide his clenching fists. “You gonna warn me off too?”
“No,” Zach said immediately. Like a robot rebooted, he began to move again. “I don’t judge,” he continued, voice mild.
“That family’s never done me a wrong. Anyway, my brother’s got a criminal record, too, and—” He finally turned around, just in time to see the shock on Evan’s face. “Shit,” Zach said. “You didn’t know. I—“
Evan held up a hand. “Just… Don’t say anything else.”
“I’m sorry, man—“
“Don’t. It’s fine.” His mind was flying in a thousand different directions, but none of those directions were Zach’s business.
Well; except one.
“You have a brother?” Evan asked, his voice stirring the cauldron of awkward air.
Zach nodded, looking relieved at the change of subject. “Yeah. You’ll meet him soon. He’s moving home again, because of...” Zach’s voice trailed off, his face darkening. But then he cleared his throat and continued. “It’s taking him some time. He’s down in London. Got two kids and a business to pack up.”
Evan smiled, and managed to mean it. “You’re an uncle?”
“Yeah,” Zach grinned. “Got a niece and a nephew.” He pulled out his phone and produced pictures with a pride that seemed almost parental.
Some of the images contained one child, some both. They shared Zach’s jet-black hair and blue eyes. Their father was in a few of the pictures; a man who looked like Zach with longer hair, more tattoos, and a hell of a scowl.
The children didn’t seem to mind the scowl, though; in the pictures of all three of them, they clung to their dad like happy little monkeys. There were no other adults in any of the images.
“Is your brother a single parent?”
“Why? You interested?” Zach wiggled his brows.
Evan rolled his eyes.
“Oh, of course you aren’t,” Zach grinned. “You’ve got a Kabbah girl.”
“I haven't got anyone.” Evan gulped down his tea. “And we’re wasting a break gossiping like old men. Let’s go.”
Across the coffee table, the other man straightened his spine and gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”
“I’m not a captain,” Evan muttered.
“Ah, whatever.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Evan had insisted on taking Ruth’s number a while back, but he’d never used it.
Not until today.
Ruth stared at the two texts he’d sent in quick succession, trying to figure out if she should be nervous. The first said that he was leaving work and coming straight over. Which was weird. He didn’t text her when he left work, and he didn’t come straight over after work.
She should definitely be nervous.
Even though the second text said: It’s nothing bad, so don’t stress.
Hah. As if telling her not to stress could ever stop her from stressing.
Ruth knew very well that she was, as always, overthinking. Expecting the worst. Still, that knowledge didn’t stop her from rushing to answer the door when he knocked.
In fact, she was so quick to let Evan in that she didn’t even notice the knock wasn’t his. So she experienced the shock of her life when she opened to door to find Trevor Burne on her doorstep.
Daniel’s father had been a familiar, shitty fixture in her life for years. Before, he’d come to ‘visit’ a few times a year at least—depending on Daniel’s behaviour.
But this was after, and she was supposed to be free. He shouldn’t be here.
The burly, greying businessman speared her with a familiar glare and said, “Leave my boy alone.”
Ah. Just like old times.
“Mr. Burne,” she clipped out. “I won’t pretend I’m happy to see you.”
With a disgusted huff, he barged into the house. That was his usual tactic, when it came to these clandestine, vaguely threatening visits. Jesus, had she fallen back into 2008?
Following him into her own damned flat, Ruth snapped, “What the hell do you want?”
“You know what I want.” He eyed her comic books. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you. Still a bullying prick.”
She thought he seemed startled at those bold words, at the vehemence behind them—but he recovered quickly. “Oh, yes,” he said, finding his way to the living room. “Ruth Kabbah. Eternal victim. I always do forget.” He sank onto the loveseat.
Ruth would rather eat her own vomit than sit next to him, so she perched on the coffee table—after pointedly dragging it far, far from Mr. Burne.
“Go on then,” she said, crossing her legs. “Get on with the speech.”
He glowered at her. Those grass-green eyes shouldn’t affect her anymore, but Ruth felt shame creeping over her skin. It was like a Pavlovian response.
And it was pissing her off.
“I don’t know why you do this,” Burne said in long-suffering tones. Which she found ironic in the extreme. “How many times have we had this conversation, Ruth? You know what I want. You know why I’m here.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I haven’t done anything to Daniel.” The words came like an abandoned habit: with depressing ease.
“Bullshit,” Mr. Burne said succinctly. “Do you know what he did the other day, at dinner? In front of the whole family? He called his wife—his pregnant wife—Ruth.”
Jesus. The idea made her want to wince, but she couldn’t. Her tactic, when it came to topics like this, was icy blankness. Impenetrability. Silence.
But all of a sudden, all she could think was, Why?
Everyone else got to say their part. Even if their part was complete and utter bullshit, even if the issue was none of their business, even if they were horrible people.
She wasn’t a horrible person. She was just weak.
Or she had been.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” Mr. Burne snapped. “Nothing. Ha! The pair of you disgust me. I can’t imagine why he persists in chasing you, to the detriment of all else—”
Ruth’s temper snapped.
“You know,” she said, her voice hard. “If you weren’t so stuck on the fact that your son is obsessed with the fat, black daughter of an unmarried immigrant mother, you’d have figured this whole thing out years ago.”
Burne’s mouth hung open. He made a series of incoherent, outraged wheezing sounds before he managed to say, “I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate—”
“Then let me be clear.” Ruth got up off the coffee table, standing tall. “I think that you’re a stuck-up, racist snob, and since you’ve been harassing me for the last decade, I’m well-placed to judge.”
Mr. Burne shot to his feet, towering over her. Just like Daniel used to.
Just like Evan did. And Evan wouldn’t hurt her, just because he could. She pushed down the automatic panic and remembered that, for all his faults, Mr. Burne had never touched her. He just hated the idea of her. Of his son with her.
Which was not her problem, and never fucking had been.
“If you’d never sunk your claws into my son’s gut,” Burne snapped, “I would never have darkened your door! You should be ashamed—”
“Now let’s get one thing straight,” Ruth hissed. “I am not ashamed, and I never will be.”
Those words hadn’t always been true. Two years ago, she’d been nothing but shame—and things had only gotten worse. She’d hidden from the world for shame, and pushed away her friends for shame, and stewed in guilt, which was shame’s best friend.
And now she was fucking tired of it.
“I fell in love with your son,” she said. “I fell in love with the school’s biggest bully, the guy who made fun of my glasses and called me a freak and wanted to kiss me behind the gym, because that’s what teenagers do. They fall in love with the wrong people. And yes, I stayed with him, even though he hid me from the world and treated me like shit—even though you appeared every so often to call me a gold-digging whore—because that’s what people in love do. They make bad choices.”
She broke off, heart pounding, chest heaving, and took in Mr. Burne’s slack expression with something close to pride. He’d wanted to know
. He’d always, always wanted to know. He’d screamed at her before, demanding answers Daniel wouldn’t give—first, Why is my son always sneaking off with you? Later, Who gave you that? Who took you there? Was it Daniel? I know it was.
And always, always: Why the hell did it have to be you?
She wasn’t good enough for the Burne family. Even Daniel had told her that.
Seven years, they’d been together. No-one had known ‘til it was over.
“It’s always fascinated me,” Ruth said, “how little you care about Daniel.”
Mr. Burne stiffened. “How dare you?”
“Oh, I dare. It’s disturbing. Almost unnatural. You’re desperate to know why he’s obsessed with me, but you’re not concerned by the fact that your son is obsessive. Do you know he asked me out for two years straight? That’s how long it took him to convince me. And I was a teenager; I thought it was romantic. But now I realise that it was just fucking weird. It was harassment.” She flicked a disdainful look at Mr. Burne. “Like father like son, I suppose.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He dug his fingers into his own thighs, white knuckles against faded denim, and said, “You’re in a talkative mood.”
“Yeah,” she said harshly. “I am. Because I’m sick of this shit. You want to know the truth? Here’s the truth. Daniel knows that you despise him. That you don’t think he’s good enough. You’re the reason he’s a manipulative, hateful bully—and you’re the reason why we were together.”
Mr. Burne’s thick, bristly moustache, auburn streaked with grey, twitched. He wanted to argue so badly, but he remained silent. Waiting for her to hurry up, to get to the point. He didn’t know his son, so he didn’t realise that this was the point.
“I despised Daniel Burne,” she said. “I really, really did. But he was held back in sixth form, and we wound up in the same classes. Eventually, we were paired together for a project, and I came to your house. I don’t think you knew I was there—he wasn’t exactly happy about my presence, and he made me keep it a secret.” She laughed slightly. “I suppose that was a sign. Anyway, you came home from work, and he tried to talk to you, and you spoke to him like he was worthless.”
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