by Hill, Joanne
She was talking gibberish and her grey-green eyes had a glorious shimmer about them.
His throat had dried up. “Of—of course,” he said. “That thing.”
She didn’t move. He didn’t move. Around them – surrounding them – remained that clawing, increasing sense that something was about to happen.
He didn’t want it to happen.
He wanted it to happen.
He said, “Then you should go and do it.” It hurt to speak. Clearly some sand had got stuck in his throat when he’d been dying on the beach.
She stared blankly at him.
He felt like he was going to explode. “You should,” he ground out, “go and do that thing.”
There was no thing.
Sage froze in place, unable to move, barely able to even think. There was just her and Ethan, alone in this room, and there was no thing.
Her brain had turned to mush.
She reached out, placed her hand on his chest, and felt the sharp intake of his breath as her own body mimicked it.
His voice was low, guttural. “What are you doing?”
He stated it – didn’t question it.
She swallowed down hard. It was as if the air around them was singing or crying or speaking or something.
“I don’t know.” She didn’t take her hand away. She looked at it, splayed across his chest, across the sweater with the grey and black pattern that was so fine it was hard to tell where grey began and black ended.
“I don’t know,” she said again. Finally, she raised her gaze.
He was looking at her, his eyes intense and dark.
“If,” he said slowly, “you are trying to push me away, then you are not trying hard enough.”
She tried to push, tried to increase that pressure, but her hand wouldn’t respond, or her mind wouldn’t let it.
Her hand remained splayed on his chest, and suddenly, the memories of that moment, that moment here in this house, all those months ago, flooded her.
Her arms around him, his mouth on hers, the closeness of his body against hers, the feelings that had taken her over, had left her defenseless against…against him.
Suddenly, wordlessly, he reached up, and as if in slow motion he picked up her hand. The touch, the sensation, shocked her. He brought it to his mouth, pressed his lips against the skin of her palm, then still holding it, he brought it back, down to her side. His hand was warm against hers. Big and warm and electric.
He didn’t move.
“I don’t need this,” he said finally.
Every ounce of hope shattered within her. Hope. When had she ever hoped? Blood rushed to her face in embarrassment but she still couldn’t move. Maybe this was it. This was the last moment she’d ever have, and he had just rejected her pathetic advance; this was all it was ever going to be. Yet, even more confusing, she didn’t want anything with Ethan. She’d never wanted anything like that, anything emotional and intense. She liked her life. She had a good life, and she did not need or want this.
Except…except maybe she did want just one moment. One moment of something, one more moment of this crazy, then they could go back to annoying the hell out of each other.
He brought her hand up to his mouth again and kissed it, his eyes on hers. Then he brought it back down to her side and released it.
She pressed it against her thigh. Pressed hard.
“You’re with Barry,” he said thickly.
She stared at him.
She was with Barry.
Of course she was.
Ethan still didn’t move, and his gaze didn’t leave her.
“I’m going to watch the cricket,” he said.
Finally, he stepped back.
Flustered, confused, she watched as he picked up the remote and switched the TV back on.
He settled back down on the couch, his back to her, and she stared at him, at his short hair and the back of his broad shoulders, and for a moment had the craziest feeling that she should go over to him, put her arms around him, kiss him and hold him to her.
She was with Barry.
She waited as confusion ripped through her – confusion over what he’d done, confusion over her own feelings.
“I don’t mind,” he said as he sat there, not turning around, “if you want to drink coffee or eat crackers on that couch. This isn’t my house. It’s a free world.”
Then he shifted so he could see her, and with his gaze as piercing as she’d ever seen, he said, “But you’re still with Barry.”
CHAPTER NINE
Sage went back to Robyn and Jack’s room, climbed into bed, lay on her back, pulled the covers high up to her chin, and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
She didn’t let herself think. She lay there as her body warmed the sheets, and she kept her mind blank.
It lasted seconds.
She turned over, thumped the pillow viciously, and groaned as she buried her face in it.
She was never going to be able to sleep. She hadn’t even planned on sleeping once she’d woken up but now, sleep was what she needed. It was the only way to stop thinking about him.
He had blown her plans completely to pieces. She’d figured she’d do some work after the racket-causing cheese and crackers. The beach incident had exhausted her, and she’d been drowsy after all those cookies, and she’d slept. And now she was awake and she was going to be awake for hours. Maybe she could stay awake, and just indulge in a one-hour nap in the early afternoon, and that would keep her going.
She was kidding herself.
She turned over and thumped the pillow even harder. He had riled her up and she was screwed. Again.
Twenty hours, she told herself. Only another twenty hours. Robyn and Jack would be back and she could go home.
Home. Her sanctuary. Her peace and quiet, her—
She closed her eyes and felt like crying. He was right next door. He was living there in Robyn’s old house.
He was going to be there for weeks. Months. Years. Forever.
She was never going to escape him.
She’d have to make sure she kept her curtains closed and the radio on in the kitchen so she didn’t have to see him, or hear if he was there. She’d have to pretend he wasn’t there. She’d have to stay away long hours, since he was going to be living and working there all the time. She was about to become a prisoner in her own home.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. How on earth was she meant to concentrate on work now, and what was Ethan doing?
That man.
She glanced over at the TV in the corner, and at the stack of DVDs.
That could work, she thought optimistically. She climbed out of bed, went over and began to file through the discs, and then put them down with disgust. All romantic comedies, and what looked like the complete works of Hugh Grant. The last thing she needed was a love story. Or hours spent channel-flicking through shopping programmes. And as for the equally-depressing news…
She climbed back into bed. There was no point reading, no point going on the internet.
She lay back down, pulled up the covers and breathed. In and out.
I am calm. I am tired. I am going to—
Her eyes shot open. She could meditate herself to sleep.
No, she couldn’t. She’d never been able to do that, ever.
Was Ethan still watching the cricket?
She groaned.
She needed to sleep.
She needed Ethan’s six-pack of beer. Except she’d just feel ill after a few beers. Maybe Jack had sleeping pills. Robyn wouldn’t touch them, but maybe Jack would.
Who, she thought roughly, knew what men did when they weren’t trying to torment you just by being.
Slowly, she got out of bed and went through to Robyn and Jack’s bathroom.
She opened the medicine cabinet and searched through, found painkillers and throat lozenges, anti-fungal, anti-bacterial and anti-everything else, but no anti-insomnia.
Of course th
ere weren’t.
Sage nibbled on her thumbnail. She had some at home though. In her bathroom for those moments. A year or so back her doctor had prescribed them when she’d gone through a really bad patch with Harriet, and when everything had threatened to fall apart. She’d only ever taken a few and she was pretty sure they’d expired, but they would still work a bit, and a bit was all she needed.
Barry.
Her mind began to race. Barry could get them and bring them over. He knew where her emergency key was. If he was awake—she went back out to check her phone. It had gone twelve-thirty.
Chances were he was still awake. He went to bed incredibly late and seemed to survive on minimal sleep. Mega-doses of youth hormone, he’d once joked. So he could go to her place, get the bottle, bring them over, and she could be asleep in no time. And if his youth hormone hadn’t kicked in, she could drive Robyn’s car over and get them herself. Although that would alert you-know-who, but she could make up an excuse.
She waited a few minutes for her sensible brain to talk her crazy brain out of it.
It didn’t happen.
She sat on her bed, and messaged Barry on the off-chance he was up.
Barry, are you still up? Ring me if you are.
She leant against the headboard, waited, and a minute later her phone rang.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “You’re still up yourself.”
She could hear noise in the background. “Yeah, I am. Where are you?”
“Over at Tristan’s. What are you up to?
“Actually, I’ve got a huge favour to ask you.”
“Sure. What is it?”
She winced at the absurdity of what she was about to ask him. “I understand if you can’t do it, I understand completely. But I’m over at Jack and Robyn’s place and I had a really rough day and I can’t sleep.” She crossed her fingers. “I wondered if you could go over to my place, and bring my sleeping pills over? You could use my car.”
She held her breath.
“Sure thing, babe,” he said. “We’re eating pizza. Is your key still under that pot plant?”
“Yes.” Relieved, she almost punched the air. “Yes, it is. There’s a spare car key on the backdoor key ring, which is in the door, but the key to get inside is still in the purple pot—”
He belched suddenly and she said, “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“No. Just had a dodgy tofu curry at lunch time.”
“Should you be eating pizza then?”
“I’ll be sweet. So where are these pills?”
Relief, again, began to go through her. “They’re in the cupboard in the bathroom. There are a few left. They’re easy to spot. In a bottle.”
She told him the name, gave him Jack’s address, and said, “I’ll wait for you on the corner. It’s a cul-de-sac but it’s right off the main road.”
She’d have to sneak out so Ethan didn’t realize she’d gone. She was worse than Harry half the time, but where needs must…
“I’ve got that,” he said.
She thanked her stars that Barry wasn’t someone who would think it weird that she’d asked for the favour at this hour of the night.
That was the beauty of the much younger man. They didn’t question your madness. They kind of liked it.
“When do you think you’ll be here?” she asked.
He was silent a moment. “Thirty minutes. The traffic will be sweet and Tristan’s place isn’t far from yours.”
“Text me when you reach Takapuna,” she said, “and I’ll look out for you. I’ll wait on the corner.”
“Look forward to it, babe,” he said.
She disconnected the call and made a note of the time.
Dear Barry. Barry was okay. He was looking after her. All Ethan did was drive her to drugs.
She nodded to herself. That’s what Ethan did, and how healthy was that?
Tiptoeing out of the room, she went down the corridor to check on Harry, and then the children. They were all asleep. She noticed crumbs on the plate besides Harry’s bed; that was a good sign. She’d probably be okay when she woke up.
In her bare feet, Sage tiptoed back down to her room, pausing at the top of the stairs to strain her ears. Curse all this soundproofing, but she was sure she could hear the sound of the cricket commentary. If the Kiwis lost, she was going to feel no guilt at her lack of patriotism.
Back in Robyn and Jack’s room, she rifled around in her case for track pants. She would go out the back way and Ethan McGraw would be none the wiser, and once she’d taken half a pill, or a whole if they’d expired, she could sleep and put him and his cricket and his far-too-attractive face and body, and her own embarrassment – her face flushed just thinking about it – out of her mind. In the morning, everything would be fine.
She killed twenty minutes by reading blogs and Facebook before she shrugged into her jacket, picked up her sneakers, shoved her keys and her phone in her pocket, and closed the bedroom door behind her.
She trod with cautious slowness down the stairs, paused on the landing, and heard the sound of the cricket again.
Tense, she waited, then sighed with relief. There was no other sound, no other movement.
She went on down to the bottom floor, a stair at a time, and when she reached the bottom, waited and listened a minute more. Not a thing.
On tiptoes, she walked down the hallway to the back, and opened the door of the laundry tentatively. There were no creaking hinges. Bless you, Mrs Parker.
Sage stepped inside, closed the door carefully behind her, and noticed the activated alarm on the wall.
Damn you, Ethan McGraw for being security conscious. Damn you.
But she remembered the code. Haven’t got a PhD for nothing, McGraw. She punched in the code to deactivate it, opened the back door, paused to see if she could hear anything, and when she couldn’t, she stepped outside.
Sweet freedom.
She slipped into her shoes, laced them up, and walked round the path of the landscaped grounds, grateful for the trees and the disguise they offered. She glanced up to the kitchen, and noticed the lights were off. Good.
Or bad. If they were on, Ethan would only be able to see himself reflected in the windows.
Walking a little quicker, she rounded the path, and looked nervously back at the house. If he went through to the living room, he’d see her. He could be upstairs right now, looking down at her. She lifted her chin. If he was, there was no law against going outside for fresh air.
She reached the main gate, opened it, and stepped on to the street. The gate needed a code to get back in but she knew that, too.
Taking a deep breath, some of the anxiety began to leave her.
Wonderful, wonderful freedom.
She checked her phone but Barry hadn’t messaged yet. She headed down the footpath of the cul-de-sac, past more mega-dollar properties, until she reached the main road.
She perched on a pillar of the low fence on the corner, pulled her jacket her around her, and waited. Five minutes later her phone vibrated, and she checked the message. Barry had stopped at the first set of lights after the harbour bridge and would be here in five minutes.
Yes!
Far too awake now, Sage got to her feet, smiled at a semi-drunk passerby, and scanned the cars going along the road until she saw her car. The indicator light went on, and a second later Barry swung into Jack’s road and pulled up.
She went over, pulled open the passenger door, and climbed in. The car was only marginally warmer. For a skinny guy, Barry never seemed to feel the cold the way she did.
He eyed her with amusement. “You’re one crazy woman, Sage, you know that?”
“I know,” she agreed miserably. “But I can’t sleep, and that’s what’s driving me crazy. Have you got them?”
He gestured to the glove box. “In there. In case the cops pulled me over and thought I was dealing.” She opened up the glove box, and as she took out the bottle, relief flooded her.
There were a couple in there.
Reaching up, she switched on the inside light, and peered at the expiry date. It was hard to make out, but she was pretty sure they’d expired only a month back.
“You’re not going to take them all are you?” he said.
“A half will do,” she told him. As if. She was taking a whole tablet.
She spied a bottle of water on the floor of her car. It was Harry’s water bottle, and she said, “I might as well take it now. Then when I get home it will have started to kick in.” She took the tablet and swallowed it down. “And then, I shall sleep. Glorious wonderful sleep.” She screwed the cap on. “Are you working tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “Day off. Thinking of just hanging out with the crowd, maybe heading over to the markets out west. There’s a new organic vege place there.” He patted his stomach. “I shouldn’t talk about food. I’m hungry now. It’s been hours since that pizza.”
Hours in Barry language was two, max.
It always amazed her how skinny he was and how he could eat so much. She should have brought him some of Mrs Parker’s cookies.
He looked sideways at her, pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Are we still on for that concert on Sunday night?”
“Oh, gosh, yes.” She’d forgotten all about it. “I’m looking forward to it. Looking after three children is pretty tiring.” Although that was a lie, since she had slept all evening and was planning to sleep all morning. It wasn’t looking after Eric and the twins that was doing her head in; it was being near Ethan.
She pushed him from her mind. “Text me the details. I’ll be back home tomorrow.”
Hesitating, he looked carefully at her. “You sure you’re okay?” He took off his glasses, and peered more closely. “You look strange.”
“I always look strange.”
“No, you don’t. You look amazing.”
If Ethan had said that, she’d be blushing. How wrong it all was.
“I just need to zone out for a few hours. It was a really stressful day. Listen, Barry? Do you want to hang on to my car for a bit longer?”