Eleven
Turns out that parkour—or freerunning, as it’s also called—is the art of moving rapidly through an area, usually an urban area. The traceur, which is the correct term for a person who practices parkour, moves around or over obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing them.
I got all that off the Internet.
After I finished reading up on it, I was feeling kind of fascinated. I saw there was a whole bunch of videos online. But I didn’t want Kas to catch me on my phone, so I had to wait until I left work.
The moment I was out of there, I was back on Google, and I watched videos the whole walk to the station and on the train journey home.
I can’t believe that Kas does parkour. Not because he’s not fit—because he clearly is—but because…well, it’s really cool, and he’s such an uptight, miserable bugger.
But, clearly, there’s this whole other side to him that I know nothing about.
And it kind of makes me curious.
I didn’t see Kas for the rest of the day. When he came down from his shower, he holed himself up in his office, and I left him to it.
I knocked on his door at four to let him know that I was leaving, and he barked at me from the other side, so I hightailed it out of there.
And, now, I’m home, and I’m awaiting Anne’s arrival.
I’m all showered and ready, wearing my best mum clothes. I’ve gone for a calf-length powder-blue dress. It’s an old dress, but it’s nice, respectable. It has capped sleeves and a cute belt around the waist. My hair is tied back in a braid. I also put on a light dusting of makeup.
I’m good to go.
Cece is working until eight, so I’ve got the place to myself.
The good biscuits are set out on a plate on the coffee table in the living room. Tea is in the pot, and coffee is in the carafe on a tray. Cups are ready along with milk in a jug and sugar cubes in the pot.
I’m ready to show Anne that I’ve changed.
Even though I haven’t changed. Not really. Deep down, I’m the same person I’ve always been. Just a little less trusting than I used to be.
But Anne sees what she’s read on paper. She sees me as a thief and ex-con. A woman who kept the fact that her mother had run off and abandoned her kids a secret.
Social Services doesn’t see the good in my reasons. They don’t care that I worked my arse off to keep a roof over Jesse’s head and to put food in his belly. That, every single day, I made sure he knew how much he was loved.
Social Services doesn’t care about any of that.
All they see is a liar. A thief. And a criminal.
All because of Jason.
But I’m not going to go there. Today is going to be a good day.
I’m not going to think about that piece of shit.
I’m going to get Jesse back.
I’m going to show Anne the real Daisy—the responsible, reliable Daisy, who loves her brother like he’s her own kid. He is my kid. And I will do anything for him.
The doorbell rings, and a tremor of nerves runs through me. Standing from the sofa, I smooth my trembling hands down my dress and walk to the front door.
Pulling open the door, I see a woman on the other side. Looks to be in her fifties. Plump. Shoulder-length curly black hair. Kind face.
“Anne?” I’ve spoken to Anne many times on the phone, but I have never actually met her in person.
“Yes. And you must be Daisy. You and Jesse have the exact same eye color. Lovely.” She smiles.
Jesse and I both have amber eyes with flecks of hazel in them. In certain lights, it looks almost gold. It’s a fairly unusual eye color, one that we inherited from our dad.
It’s one of the things that I actually like about myself.
“Come in.” I smile, stepping back to let her in.
I shut the door and lead her straight into the living room. She takes a seat on the sofa, putting her huge bag on the floor next to her. I take a seat in the armchair across from her.
“Lovely place you have here.”
“Would you like a tour?” I offer.
“Tea first, if that’s okay.” She smiles. “I haven’t had a cuppa since lunch, and I’m dying for one.”
Smiling, I reach over and pour tea in a cup. “Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, please.”
I pour the milk in, stir with the teaspoon, and hand it over to her. I pour myself a coffee, adding milk.
“Help yourself to biscuits,” I tell her.
She sips her tea. “Oh, lovely cup of tea,” she tells me.
I’ve always been told I make good tea even though I never drink it myself. I don’t know what I do when it comes to making tea that makes it taste so good. I guess I just have the tea touch.
I smile and sip my own coffee.
She puts her cup down on the table and reaches into her bag, pulling out a green folder. It has Jesse’s name on the front.
My heart beats just that little bit faster.
“So, how have you been finding things since you got out?” Anne asks me.
“Really good.” I smile, putting my own cup down on the table. “It’s nice, not having to shower with twenty other women.” Oh God, did I actually just say that? “I mean, it’s fine. Like I never left. Of course, it was a little strange at first—you know, being free—but living with Cece has really helped. She’s such a rock for me. And starting my new job, of course, has helped.” Stop talking. Stop talking now.
“How is the job going?”
I’m so nervous that I’m actually starting to sweat.
“Really great.” Aside from my bipolar boss. “I’m really enjoying it.”
“You’re working at”—she pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and looks at it—“the Matis Estate, as a maid.”
“That’s right.” I clasp my hands together in my lap.
I don’t want to talk about my job. I want to talk about Jesse. But I need to let her take the lead here.
“I just had my first payday today actually.” I smile.
She lifts her kind eyes to mine. “That’s great, Daisy. I’m really pleased that things are coming together for you.”
“Me, too.” I smile, probably too enthusiastically, but I’m just feeling nervous and jittery.
“Can I ask…how is Jesse? I know, the last time we spoke—well, not the last time; the time before, when I was still in prison—you said he was doing well. Getting his grades back up.”
When I got put away, Jesse went off the rails for a while. He’d always been a good boy, a sweet boy, and done great in school. But he started acting up in school. Letting his grades slip.
He hadn’t acted up like that when dad died or when mum disappeared on us. But he did when I left.
That was hard to take, knowing what I had unwittingly let happen, how it had affected him so badly.
I know it was because I was all he had left.
“He’s still doing well. His grades are almost back up to where they were. His teachers are pleased with his progress. He recently started playing football. Him and some of the boys he lives with have a team. Tim Marshall, the head of the boys group home, is the coach. They’ve been competing in some local tournaments.”
“That’s so great. I would love to watch them play sometime.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, and her nonaction drops like rocks in my stomach.
There’s this awful pause…and it makes my eyes burn and my stomach sink lower.
“I’m not getting him back, am I?”
She looks me straight in the eyes. “It’s not a no, Daisy.”
“But it’s not a yes.”
“I can see how well you’re doing here. And how hard you’re trying to make a good life for yourself and Jesse. But you’ve only been out of prison for four days, and you’re out on parole. It would be irresponsible of me to put Jesse back in your care under the current circumstances. But that being said, we can reassess in six months and see where we’re at.
”
Six months.
I feel like I’m dying on the inside.
Tears are fighting at my eyes. My lower lip trembles. I bite down on it.
“Daisy, the ultimate goal here is to have Jesse back with his family, and that’s you. But I need to make sure that the environment I put him back into is a stable one. You need time to acclimate to life on the outside. And this will give you time to get your finances steady, get your life in a good place, and get you ready for Jesse’s return.”
“Am I…” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat and blink back the tears. “Will I be able to see him?”
“Absolutely. I have talked to Jesse, and he is willing to see you.”
“He’s still angry with me?”
She presses her lips together. “The anger has simmered. It’s more like he’s harboring resentment, but I have no doubt that, once the two of you start spending time together, he’ll come around in no time.”
“When can I see him?”
“I was thinking next Saturday. So long as Jesse is okay with it, I see no problem with you picking him up at nine a.m. and spending the day together. He’ll need to be back at five for dinner. But, aside from that, the day will be yours to do with as you wish.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
She picks up her cup and takes a large gulp of tea before putting it back on the table. “Well, I must get off. My husband will have dinner waiting on the table for me.”
I stand at the same time as she does.
“Oh, before I forget, here’s the address to where Jesse is living. I’ll call the home on Monday to let them and Jesse know that you’ll be coming.”
She hands me a piece of paper, which I look at before folding it up into my hand.
I walk her to the door, opening it. “Thank you for coming to see me,” I tell her.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Try not to feel too disheartened, Daisy. Just try to remember that you and I are both working toward the same goal—doing what’s best for Jesse.”
I want to tell her that I am what’s best for him. Not living in that boys home with a bunch of strangers, but being here with his family.
Of course I say nothing. I just smile and nod my head.
“We’ll talk soon.” She steps through the door. “And have a lovely time with Jesse next Saturday. Call me on the Monday after to let me know how it went.”
“I’ll call on my lunch break.”
“Perfect. Chat then.”
I watch her walk away and then shut the door.
I lean back against it, once again fighting tears in my eyes.
I’m not getting him back.
But I am going to see him in just over a week. That’s a good thing. I know it is, but I just want him back here with me.
Fucking Jason! He ruined my life.
But more so, I’m angry with myself for being so gullible and stupid. For not seeing when I was being played.
I hear my phone beep in the living room. I go to retrieve my phone and see a text from Cece.
Is she still there? I’ve finished work early, but I can hang around here if you need more time.
I decide not to text but to call her back.
“Hey,” she says.
The sound of her voice breaks my resolve, and a sob slips out. I press my fist to my mouth.
“Dais, what happened?” she asks, concerned.
Lowering my hand, my voice trembling, I say, “I’m not getting Jesse back. Well, not anytime soon.”
“Oh, Dais…”
“I have to prove to them that I’m responsible enough to care for him and that I’m not going to end up back in prison.”
“You were already all of those things. Fucking Jason!” she seethes. “I swear to God, when I find that little bastard, I’m gonna kill him. Hang him up by his balls and chop his cock off!”
Her anger for Jason soothes me a little. Cece has never been shy about vocalizing it. I know she wonders why I don’t get mad like she does. But I know that losing my shit over Jason isn’t going to help me get back those eighteen months. And it sure as hell isn’t going to help me get Jesse back.
“If you chopped his cock off, wouldn’t the rope just keep slipping off his balls?”
“Nope, because I’d tie it so tight that the circulation in his ball sack would be cut off, and then his balls would just shrivel up and die.”
“But wouldn’t they just fall off, and then he’d be free?”
“Maybe. But at least he’d be cock- and ball-less.”
That makes me laugh. “You always manage to make me feel better, Ce.”
“I am the queen of comedy.”
“That, you are.”
“So, what else did Anne say?”
“She said I could see Jesse. A week from tomorrow.”
“That’s great news.”
“It is. I just…” My smile fades away, seeping into the sadness.
“I know. You want him home. I want him home, too. Look, I’m leaving work now. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine on the way home. So, I’ll see you in twenty.”
“Thanks, Ce. See you soon.” I hang up the phone and rest my head back against the sofa.
I can’t believe I was so stupid to think that, if I dressed nice and fed her tea and biscuits, then she’d let me have Jesse back.
I mean, I wasn’t expecting to get him tomorrow, but…six months…
God, I’m so fucking dumb.
I should have known that nothing is ever that easy for me. I have to fight for everything in this life.
Another sob breaks free, and this time, I don’t stop it. I just let the tears flow.
Twelve
Earphones in, I’m listening to OneRepublic’s “Wherever I Go.” I get the cleaning products, bucket, and mop, and I hook the vacuum cleaner under my arm. I drag it along the floor, heading toward the gym.
I haven’t seen Kas since I arrived an hour ago, and his office door is closed, so I figure he’s in there.
I really need to clean his office, but I’m not in the mood to be growled at, so I’ll wait until he emerges, and then I’ll set about cleaning in there. But, in the meantime, I’ll give the gym a good going-over.
When I reach the door, my hands are full, so I press down on the handle with the back of my hand and push the door open with my butt. I back into the room, pulling the vacuum through. I put the cleaning stuff down, pivot on the spot, and stall at the sight of Kas and another guy fighting. Well, when I say fighting, I’m guessing they’re sparring.
A large mat is laid out on the gym floor. Kas and the other guy are barefoot, both bare-chested, wearing only shorts. Their hands are wrapped, like fighters. Kas’s hair is tied back with a hair tie. I’ve never seen his hair like this before. It looks good…hot.
He has his back to me, so I can see the defined muscles there along with his broad shoulders. Sweat is trickling down his back.
Holy hell.
I pull the earphones from my ears, riveted.
I should leave. I will leave.
Now would be a good time, as neither of them has noticed me.
Okay, Daisy, grab your stuff and go.
I’m just about to turn away and make my exit when the guy that Kas is sparring with catches my eye and smiles.
He lifts a hand to Kas, stopping him. His eyes come back to me. “Hey,” he says. Smiling again, he gives me a chin lift.
Kas’s head turns so fast that I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck.
The moment his eyes hit me, something that looks an awful lot like panic enters his eyes. But it’s gone quickly, replaced with anger.
Yanking his eyes from me, he walks past his sparring partner—well, more like, he stomps—and heads over to the edge of the mat. He picks up a T-shirt from the floor and yanks it on, his movements rough and jerky.
Then, he turns to me. Pissed off doesn’t even cover the look on his face right now.
I brace myself for a tongue-lashing.
&nbs
p; “You need to learn to fucking knock,” he snaps at me.
That takes me back a step.
That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him swear. And I really don’t like that it was directed at me. All I did was walk in a room, for God’s sake.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
“Well, if you’d knocked, then you would’ve.”
My eyes flicker uncomfortably to the other guy in the room, who is surprisingly frowning at Kas.
At least I’m not the only one who thinks he’s acting like a total dickhead right now.
“Point taken. But please don’t swear at me again. I’m your employee, not a dog.”
His hands grip his hips, his face tightening with anger. “I’m fully aware of just exactly who you are. And, just so you know, I would never tell a dog to fuck off. I happen to like dogs.”
He might as well have just belted the backs of my legs.
Arsehole!
Rage and hurt and a hundred other emotions burn through me. And it’s worse because someone else is here to hear him talk to me this way.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself and walk out of here when his sparring partner says, “Chill the fuck out, Kas.”
I lift my eyes to see the guy walking toward me, wearing a kind smile on his face.
He stops in front of me. “I’m Jude, a friend of Kas’s.” He puts his hand out for me to shake.
Kas has friends?
I glance down at Jude’s hand and then lift my eyes back to his face.
I’m desperately trying to keep my eyes off his bare chest. He has a really nice chest and arms and…well, he’s the first guy I’ve seen semi-naked in a really long time.
And he’s fit.
Seriously fit.
Ripped to hell with some ink on his bicep that goes over his shoulder. His skin is the color of milk chocolate. His black hair is shaved close. He’s a few inches shorter than Kas. About six foot, I’d say. And he has the most amazingly vivid green eyes, a total contrast to his hair and skin color.
“Daisy.” I take his hand and shake it.
“Oh, you’re Daisy.” Releasing my hand, he glances back at Kas.
Unsuitable Page 7