by Emily James
Amber follows me through to the kitchen and we sit at the island with the ice cream in front of us. I pass Amber a spoon and ask if Cody’s behaved.
“She’s been great,” Amber beams. She passes me a beer and takes a slug of her own.
“You’re going to have your hands full there,” she says.
“There’s no ‘going to’ about it, she’s a fire-cracker all right,” I reply.
Amber closes her eyes as she licks the spoon, and sighs, “Mmm, this ice cream is so good.” Her reaction is so hot, my mouth falls open and I grab the spoon from her to get a taste of hers.
Amber’s face reddens and her eyes are searching, she’s embarrassed.
A light snore catches Amber’s attention and she shakes her head.
“Cody told me something earlier, I’m not sure if it’s my place to say.” She distracts me from my indecent thoughts. Amber hesitates and I urge her to continue.
“She said I’m her only friend. That you don’t let her have anyone over at your house; I hope you don’t mind, I agreed her friends could play here if you don’t mind?”
“Ha-ha, she never has friends over? Not yesterday, when they painted my fingernails, which by the way, tasted disgusting when I gnawed it off. Or, last week, when they decorated my work boots in pink hearts. Nope. Never. Ha-ha, she got you good. The little brats are always over, sometimes they even go home,” I laugh. “She’s awful fond of you, Amber, and I think she probably said that 'cos she wants an invitation back. I’m afraid you just got played by a seven year old.” I give her the old LOSER sign with my thumb and forefinger.
Shaking her head, Amber laughs and moves her foot to kick me. The football player in me responds grabbing her foot. “Jeeze—your feet are cold as ice.”
Amber pulls her foot away, embarrassed.
“I only brought one pair of socks and they’re drying. My banking isn’t sorted yet.” She sucks at her lip. “‘I don’t want to spend Dad’s housekeeping on footwear.” Amber’s voice fades and she looks down at her feet.
It must be hard for her, starting again, after losing her mother. She hardly knows Patrick and she’s too proud to accept his money. It’s refreshing and stupid. She needs socks.
“I have money for you though, for the shopping,” Amber chimes interrupting my thoughts.
“You keep it. Call it payment for babysitting services. Better yet, use it to buy socks.” I mean it kindly, but it comes out as an order. I reach and put fifty bucks from my wallet under the kettle.
“So, how was your date?” she changes the subject.
“So, Patrick’s back tomorrow?” we speak at the same time.
“You first,” I tell her, once again too gruff. She must think me bull-headed.
“Dad’s taking me to a game,” she offers with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Yeah, Patrick told me when he called earlier. Me and my buddy Pete are tagging. No greater team than the Bengals, you are going to see Cincinnati royalty.” I wink, hoping she doesn’t mind us joining them.
I answer her original question. “It wasn’t a date. Candace is working on a development upstate. We signed the contract today which means after a shaky six months, Denver and Son is back in business.” I smile, even though it’s bittersweet. I wish Dad was here to celebrate with me.
“Cheers to that,” Amber says, clanging her bottle of beer against mine, forcing it forward onto the counter. The beer fizzes and spits up and out, across the crotch of my jeans.
“Shit!” Amber says grabbing paper towels and trying to dry the wet patch. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz. Stupid, I didn’t mean to,” she cusses herself angrily.
I cut off her rambling and can’t help but wonder about her overreaction.
“Hey.” I use the pads of my fingers to tilt her chin up, “Don’t sweat it. Okay? These jeans are old; besides I love the smell of beer.” I convey my most reassuring smile and hold eye contact with her. Her pained eyes lighten and her lips gently frame a smile, as her tongue nips out to moisten them.
“You’re beautiful when you smile,” I murmur, unintentionally leaning toward her. My hand moves to rest on the arc of her waist, the forefinger of my other hand still gently cups Amber’s chin, close to the plumpness of her lips. As if lured, my mouth inches toward Amber’s as she elongates her neck to meet my kiss. I throb with anticipation, breathing her in, lowering my lips…
“I hope you didn’t eat that whole carton of ice cream, Will.” Cody pads into the kitchen.
Amber swoops under my arm, leaving a void in her place and dumps the paper towels into the garbage.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I greet Cody. Her timing is impeccable, as always. She swipes the carton of ice cream from in front of me and yawns.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing,” she says.
My eyes meet Amber’s and our guilt radiates.
Cody looks at us in turn, her hand dramatically grips her hip and she huffs, “Chocolate chip? Will, you know that’s my favourite.”
Amber and I both giggle nervously and the tension lifts as our moment passes.
* * *
I tuck Cody into bed and go downstairs, too riled to sleep. I open another beer and consider Amber’s reaction to the spilled beer.
Did someone hurt her?
My fist squeezes the bottle at the sheer thought of someone causing her pain. If someone did, it makes me want to find out who they are and end them. She’s tiny and when I held her she fit right into my arms and disappeared. I wonder if she regrets our almost kiss. I hope not.
I finish my beer and head out to throw the bottle in the recycling, when a shadow in the streetlight catches my attention. Studying the street, I notice someone heading up the drive to Amber’s place. I’m ready to grab my gun when I notice they have a hold of Flo.
I squint and see it’s Amber, her long hair glints as she runs, as do her feet which I’m annoyed to see are bare. I pull out my phone and text her.
Will: Why are you kidnapping our neighbour’s dog? In bare feet!
Amber: Please don’t tell. Jed’s on nights and I don’t want Flo to catch cold.
Will: I don’t want YOU to catch cold!
Amber: I won’t – I have mutant genes ;) I’ll have her back by morning.
Will: Jed gets in around 8, don’t get caught. And Amber, I enjoyed this evening.
After a while with no reply, I go to bed, but sleep won’t come. She’s gotten too deep under my skin and I wrestle with my desires.
I decide I have to know her.
Chapter 12
Amber
After taking Flo back to Jed’s, I settle on the sofa and fire up the laptop. I log into my emails and decide that today is the day I confront my demons. I brave these particular demons since I’m in avoid mode on my other ‘problem’—I almost kissed Will last night.
Now I’m avoiding him, which is not easy since he lives next door and basically works here. Today, I’ve hidden the car up the road so it looks like I’ve gone out. I wonder if I said I was going to stay at Roxy’s, he’d avoid the guest house altogether so I can just close the curtains and hide. I mean for God’s sake, I fondled his crotch and gave him the wanton Wanda’s eyes. I guess the playing it cool lessons that Roxy’s been giving me still needs some work, as does my kickboxing which so far has only seen me miss aim and kick at a fire extinguisher leaving me with an egg shaped bruise on my calf. I guess it matches the egg on my face.
It must be at least five months since I’ve logged into my email account, and I’m surprised to see that I only have four emails. I used to get four junk emails an hour and then some.
I scroll down deleting the junk as I go and notice the last email marked read is dated last week
Weird, but maybe it’s a glitch. What is even stranger is that not only has it been read, but there’s a return arrow, indicating that a reply has also been sent. A familiar fear grips me as I skim through the contents of the message:
To:
Amber
From: Tommy
Subject: I miss you too!
X
It makes no sense, so I read further.
To: Tommy
From: Amber
Subject: House Repairs
Yes, babe, honestly I’m fine, not really enjoying spending time with my Dad ‘reconnecting’.
I miss you.
Sorry to hear the shitty old boiler broke down, use the Lloyds account, the card’s in the bureau. Spend whatever you need to. I don’t mind, just don’t freeze!
I love you.
I’m feeling better and I can’t wait to come home to you (and I want to do very rude things to you when I do).
Amber xx
There are more, a lot more, asking for money, should he paint the porch? Can he include labour costs? ‘Of course’ is my reply, ‘take what you need’.
I check the dates the emails were sent, and count back. They were sent the day I went on a driving lesson with Will. I don’t understand but my brain soon catches up.
Tommy’s had access to my money since Mum died. He’d taken my bank cards after a red letter from the electricity provider arrived; he was fuming that left to me, we’d end up freezing and starving in the dark. I was past the point of regaining control by then, I’d lost everything, money was of no use to me. I let him take control of it all.
Tommy’s in my house. My laptop is set to auto-fill my passwords. He must have sent these from my account, and bloody replied from his! He’s covering his ass in case he’s caught dipping into my trust fund, and according to the emails, I’m giving him free reign on the bank of Amber!
No way. I start to fire off an angry email.
I’ll change my passwords, I’ll contact the bank, I’ll… But, I know I won’t. My dad is my only family now. If Tommy makes good on his promise and tells my dad what happened, then I’m as good as dead to him, too. Tears swell in my eyes and my stomach spins violently. I delete the draft email and throw down the laptop. I make it to the kitchen sink just in time to throw up, but since I haven’t eaten anything, only dry heaves rock through my body, over and over again. My head thumps with pressure and I don't hear the door close.
“Amber, are you okay?” Will’s deep voice soothes from behind me and his warm hand strokes the small of my back, where my shirt doesn’t quite meet my jeans.
I’m too far gone to stop wrenching, sobbing and snorting. My hair falls past my face, cloaking me from his searching eyes. I let it fall further until he’s just a figment of my imagination and I push my hand out to drive him away.
“Will, please go. I need to be alone!” My voice strains between heaves. The authority I’m trying to push into my words is replaced by a feeble plea.
Will ignores me and reaches out to feel my forehead, clasping my hair back in his other hand, his eyes lingering on my neck.
“Hey. There's no fever, that’s good… Wait, are you crying?”
I look at him from the corner of my eye as he studies me. I’m so pathetic, it’s pitiful. He has a look of concern that I’ve never seen before. I shudder, knowing this panic attack is right up there with the panic attack in the hospital. I try desperately to count myself down from the hysteria, but my concentration keeps dissolving as I stare aimlessly into Will’s kind eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Will comforts me. He slides his strong arm around my waist and settles his hand on my hip. His other arm releases my hair and winds around my shoulders, holding me together. Usually I’d flinch at the contact, not bearing to be touched, but instead, I lose myself in him and inhale his earthy scent. Time and place cease to have meaning and after a while, the feeling of being scattered and broken is replaced by a notion of strength and resilience.
When I finally open my eyes, like after a long sleep, Will loosens his grip and extends me in his arms, looking deep into my soul. For a moment, I feel like he knows every part of me.
I step back, averting my sore eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say and let out a long throaty laugh. Snot from my crying marks Will’s muscular, cotton covered shoulder. He looks at me bemused, like he didn’t get the joke.
“Hey, don’t be sorry. That was a really awesome hug.” Will’s sexy smile makes my heart thump a little harder. “My mum always said that sometimes you feel a whole lot better after a good cry.”
The snot marks glint in the light as Will dips his head. I laugh again and wonder if I’m delirious, perhaps dangerously so. Will’s smile widens and I turn to stop from laughing. I grab some paper towels and dampened them under the tap.
“I snotted all over your shoulder.” Holding my hand out, I offer Will the towels. A sheepish grin forms on my face and I bite my lip a little to stop my nervous laughs.
Will chuckles and grabs the paper towels from my hand.
“Oh, that’s what’s so funny, huh?” He smiles mischievously. “Wait, you have a little…” He points to my face and I’m expecting him to point out that it is blotchy and snotty too.
Will tentatively brings his hand to my face and as though he might wipe my tears he... makes a joking hooter sound and presses my nose. “Arrghh, it’s on my hand,” he says in mock fear, holding the hand that touched my nose by the wrist. It earns him a huge giggle and the tension brought on by my tears lifts.
Will sighs thoughtfully and takes a piece of my hair in between his fingers. It’s intimate, I decide I like it.
“You know you can tell me what upset you. I’m a ‘pretty good guy,’ you know.” He repeats my earlier words back to me. “Maybe I could even help you, with whatever it is.”
“You are a good guy, Will. Thank you.” I nod, I want him to know, I trust him and I do think he’s a good guy. “I’m okay now. I’m sorry you walked in on that… freak show. Just a bad day I guess.”
“Hey, you are not a freak show!” Will says seriously, sternly even. His expression wavers into a cheeky smile like he does when he’s unsure how to relax the conversation. “Although, if the circus were hiring, that snot would get you a gig; I could be your glamorous assistant, with the biggest hanky in the world. They’d come from miles around just to marvel in its glory.”
Will winks and I giggle. “Ew, that’s just gross.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve, just in case there are remnants.
“I know I joke around with you, Amber, but I do want to help. I can’t promise I can fix whatever causes you such pain, but I can promise you won’t be alone. You’re so jumpy sometimes. Did someone hurt you? Was it Tommy?”
At the mention of his name panic returns, fight or flight like I’m an animal caught in headlights.
“H-How do you know Tommy?” I ask, my words trembling from my tongue.
“I don’t.” Will looks too sheepish to be a wolf, I trust him. I mean, I want to… “The tattoo on your neck, I don’t normally see it, because you wear your hair to cover it, but I noticed it earlier. Who’s Tommy?”
“He’s, he’s…” I can’t answer his question. I don’t want Tommy to be on Will’s radar, not ever. Will waits patiently for an answer, while his fingers distractingly graze the sleeve of my shirt. I want to pull my hand away, but I’m scared if I do he’ll never put it back there.
“Why are you here? You said you’d call ahead.” My aim is to change the subject but it’s delivered like an accusation.
“I texted you, I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me, after…”
My hand is in my bag, lifting out my phone to check his story, before he’s even finished his sentence. He didn’t lie: two texts from Will and one from Dad.
Will looks down, sighs and raises an eyebrow at my bare feet. “I bought these for you.”’ Will hands me a bag from the island, which I take, and look inside. Three pairs of fluffy socks smile back at me. “They were on special at the store. I thought you could use them.” He nods, a small smile toying on his lips, as though testing the waters. “You know inside of your shoes, on the outside of your feet?” Will jokes again and I’m noticing the pattern. I get my freak on and, Will laughs me
better. I squeeze the socks to keep from hugging him, wishing his kindness wasn’t so wasted on someone like me.
“Will, I don’t know if I can accept these. It’s really kind of you, but…”
“You can and you will. It’s four degrees out there today,” Will point’s out of the window. The backdrop is a beautiful white with frost coating all it touches, a blank canvass. “Besides, Cody chose them, and trust me, you do not want to feel her wrath.”
“Oh, well if Cody chose them,” I slip one straight on my foot, wiggling my toes in delight. “Wow, she has great taste. I love the reindeers.” I smile because I love them but I have reservations as to whether Cody would pick reindeer. “Where is she so I can thank her?”
“Oh, she’s at the Stevens’, she won’t be back for ages, seven-year-olds with lots of catching up to do, huh?” Will rolls his eyes and grins. The action makes his left dimple nice and deep. He catches me looking and his eyes meet mine, searching like he has something to say.
“Amber, let me take you out for lunch? I know a great place.” Will looks at me hopefully, and my mind pauses, torn; like I really want to, but I know I can’t.
“Dad’s back later today and Roxy’s coming over soon to take me shopping.” I bite on my lip, making excuses.
Will looks dejected and chews on his inside lip while he considers my answer.
“That’s not a no, so I’m going to ask later, after your dad’s gone back. We’ll make plans then.”
Will heads toward the door and turns, his hand resting on the doorknob, caught between staying and leaving. “You know, one of these days, you’ll trust me enough to share your past with me. Hell, you’ll know you can tell me anything. But, until that day, I’m right next door, patiently waiting for you to tell me I can walk right in.”
Funny thing is, I want to share the details of myself with Will. But, doing so would likely destroy anything that could be.
Chapter 13