Chapter Thirteen

Felix

Resting my elbows on my knees, I leaned forward and watched a swan float serenely on the surface of the water. As was usually the case with swans, there was another a few feet away, the two of them keeping each other in sight. I’d never been jealous of swans before, but I couldn’t help wondering what that must be like to know you were never alone, that someone was always by your side looking out for you.

This afternoon had stung like a bitch, my mother treating me like someone she barely knew when she’d informed me politely but firmly that she’d never signed up for this level of attention, that having her walls defaced by graffiti, and a ravenous pack of reporters camped on her doorstep was upsetting. I, apparently, wasn’t allowed to be upset about it. No doubt she thought I’d brought it upon myself simply by existing. Or if not that, by daring to commit the crime of hanging washing in the garden beneath the eagle-eyed stare of the next-door-neighbor.

As for what the press wanted from me, I didn’t know. Did they think that now I’d served my sentence, I’d give them a full confession? I’d watched from behind the curtain as not one… not two, but three neighbors had been happy to share their thoughts on the criminal element in their midst. Mrs. Featherstone had been there, of course, her hair freshly coiffed and dressed in her Sunday best. God knows what any of them had said. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

A duck ambled over to me, a mallard, its green head designating it as the male. It pecked at my bag and I moved it farther away, not sure how much damage its beak could do. Not one to give up that easily, it waddled forward again. “I don’t have anything. If I had something, I’d give it to you.” When he persisted, I picked up my bag and put it next to me on the bench. Eventually, it grew bored and slipped back into the water. I even disappointed the ducks.

Darien was coming, though. I tamped down on the warm glow threatening to spread through my body. He was coming because it was his job and he needed to know where I was. Nothing more. He’d made his feelings clear with the questions he’d asked the last time we’d met. Questions you could have just answered. Yeah, I could have done. And in the past, I had. I’d talked and talked, but no one had been that interested in listening when I hadn’t said what they wanted to hear, and I’d long since given up on attempting to convince anyone of my innocence.

Thirty minutes had passed since I’d talked to Darien on the phone. What if he’d changed his mind? Except, even after such a brief acquaintance, I knew he was a man of his word. If he said he’d come, he’d come. And if there were any changes to his plans, he’d at least text. It was more likely he’d hit traffic, or given I didn’t know where he lived, that his journey took a while. Or both. All I had to do was wait, and he’d turn up.

And then what? Would he try to talk me into staying at the halfway house? I was no keener to stay there than I had been originally. A hotel was only a stopgap, though. The money my mum had given me would run out eventually, and I doubted from the pinched look on her face when she’d delivered my marching orders, that she’d be keen to give me anymore. Or maybe she would if I agreed to stay away from her?

It was a crushing thought, and one I might have dwelled on for longer if I hadn’t recognized the long-legged figure making his way around the edge of the lake to my position. He was dressed similarly to the last time I’d seen him—the clothed part of the evening, not the naked part—the T-shirt covered by a brown leather jacket as a nod toward the chill of the evening.

Neither of us greeted the other as he reached my position and lowered himself on the bench next to me, both of us staring out across the lake. It was nearly nine, only about another forty minutes left of daylight. “Did you know swans mate for life?” I finally ventured.

“I did. Although, if their mate dies, they will find another, so it’s not as romantic as everyone likes to make out.”

“Huh.” Well, that pissed on my bonfire.

Darien turned his head my way. “If you want monogamy in the animal kingdom, you need to look farther afield. Try the Atlantic Puffins. They’re socially, genetically, and sexually monogamous.”

“How do you know that?”

Darien shrugged. “I don’t know. I watched a documentary or something. Know what the secret is to their relationship?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t even known there were Atlantic Puffins. I’d thought a puffin was just a puffin .

“They migrate thousands of miles per year.” Darien’s lips twitched before he delivered the punchline. “Separately. And then they both return to the breeding nest each year. I guess it goes to show that every relationship is different.”

I had no idea what we were even talking about. Darien seemed to come to the same conclusion as he twisted round to face me. “Anyway, enough about puffins. How are you holding up? Sounds like the last twenty-four hours have been an absolute shit show.”

“You’re not going to say I told you so?”

“Would it solve anything?”

“No.”

Darien grinned wide enough to show his dimples. “In which case, it would be a waste of breath.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen.

“Expecting a call?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Our best course of action.”

The “our” had me tamping down on a sudden surge of emotion. It made it sound like we were in it together, rather than me being a millstone around his neck. “I told you. I’m going to stay in a hotel.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Too many people around. Now the press has got wind of you being out of prison, they’ll try to track you down. Speaking of which, how did you get away without them following you?”

“I went over the fences in the backyard.” I smiled at the memory. “Mrs. Featherstone’s vegetable garden might have borne the brunt of my chosen route.”

“Sounds like she deserved it. ”

I shrugged. “If it wasn’t her, it would have been someone else. I couldn’t stay inside the house forever.” We both watched the pair of swans glide past. There were a few people still around, mostly dog walkers, but it was quieter than it would have been during the day, which was why I’d gone to ground here. That, and it being peaceful. “So if not a hotel, then what? And don’t say the halfway house.”

“I wasn’t going to. Benedict House is the first place they’ll look once they work out that you’re no longer staying with your mum.” Darien pressed a few buttons on his phone before bringing it to his ear. “I have an idea that might work.” I didn’t have time to enquire what it was before he started talking. “Hey, H, sorry for calling so late…. No, I don’t want to know what I interrupted… I’m too young for that sort of information… Yes, I know I’m your older brother, not your younger one. I’m still too young. I’ll always be too young for lurid details about yours and Levi’s sex life.”

I didn’t know what his brother had said, but whatever it was, it made Darien laugh. “Yeah, yeah! Listen… I was wondering if you could do me a favor… The flat above the restaurant… the one where Levi lived before you hypnotized him into moving in with you.” From Darien’s smirk, I assumed his brother had said something uncomplimentary. “Is it still empty? You’d be a lifesaver if you could loan it to a friend of mine for a while.” The word “friend” had enough of a hitch to it that I could tell he’d thought twice about its use. Just as I was thinking that a flat sounded good, especially one tucked away above a restaurant, Darien pulled a face. “Right. I’d forgotten about that. Never mind. It was just a thought.”

I didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, returning my focus to the lake until Darien ended the call. “I guess that was a no, then?”

“I didn’t think you’d be up for sharing with a nineteen-year-old university student currently becoming expert in the art of washing dishes during her studies. I forgot she was living there,” Darien said apologetically.

A drop of rain hit Darien’s hand, both of us automatically looking to the skies in anticipation of it turning into a downpour. Great! Even the weather was conspiring against me. Darien stood. “Come on. If it’s going to rain, I’d rather be in the car than here.”

We completed the last part of the journey to where Darien had parked his car in a run—the rain coming down hard enough we were in danger of getting soaked. We were just in time, the heavens really opening as we scrambled inside, the sound deafening as it ricocheted off the roof of the Toyota. “Drop me off at a hotel,” I said. “It’ll do for tonight. I can try to rent somewhere tomorrow.”

Darien turned his head my way, his eyebrows raised. “And how do you imagine that going when you meet respective landlords? You’re living in cloud cuckoo land if you think it’ll be that easy. There’s a reason I usually sort out accommodation for my clients.”

I bit back on the urge to tell him to sort it out, then. It would have been grossly unfair when that’s exactly what he was trying to do. I’d put him in a difficult situation when he would have been well within his rights to ignore my call until the next day. Seeming to reach a decision, Darien started the engine. When he didn’t share his plans with me, I relaxed back in my seat rather than interrogating him.

Our journey took us past London Zoo, the place where you could often see the giraffes from the road devoid of any long-necked animals. I guess when your genetic preference was a savannah, you weren’t about to venture outside in a rainstorm. We passed through Kilburn and Willesden and I still had no idea where we were going, Darien lost in his own world, and the silence companionable enough within the confines of his car that I didn’t want to be the one to break it .

In Wembley, Darien stopped outside a house. He turned the engine off but made no move to get out of the car. I turned my head to study the house. If it was a halfway house, it had done an excellent job of pretending it wasn’t. “Where is this?”

“This,” Darien said with something that sounded suspiciously like fatalism, “is my house.”

“Oh!” There wasn’t a lot else I could say to that. I would have guessed a hundred different destinations before I would ever have dreamed of Darien bringing me back to his place of residence.

“It’s late,” Darien said, “and I’m tired. I’d rather work out a long-term solution tomorrow, if that’s alright with you?”

I resumed my study of the house. The building had taken on a different light now that I was more enlightened. “Isn’t that breaking some sort of rule?”

Darien’s laugh was loud and filled with mockery. “Now, you worry about that. Where was that concern when I was balls deep in you?”

My cock twitched at his phrasing, the organ not getting the memo that Darien had said it to shock rather than arouse. I twisted to face him so I could make eye contact, wanting him to see I was sincere. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ve never wanted that. I meant it when I said that no one would hear so much as a whisper from me about what happened. So if me staying here means you’ll end up in the shit, I’d rather sleep on a park bench.”

“In this weather?”

The rain was still coming down in torrents, the streetlights reflected in the ever-increasing puddles. “Maybe not in this weather,” I admitted.

“I have a spare room,” Darien said. “Just in case you’re thinking I’m offering you a place in my bed, as well as a roof over your head. ”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.” Which was the truth, my brain still short-circuiting at Darien having brought me home. What did it mean that he trusted me enough to reveal his address? That he believed I was innocent? Or was it just like he’d said that he was too tired to do anything else?

When he climbed out of the car, I followed, the two of us running to his front door where a small porch provided shelter from the worst of the rain while he located his keys. “I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone back,” he offered as he fit his key in the lock. “So the place might be a bit of a mess.”

“I’m sure I’ll cope.”

Once he’d unlocked the door, Darien hesitated, probably asking himself what the fuck he was doing, before he pushed it open and walked in. I made a big production out of wiping my shoes on the doormat before following him into the living room. I wouldn’t say it was a mess, but it was obvious he’d left in a hurry. The TV was on, but muted, playing to no one. There was a dirty plate on the coffee table from whatever Darien had eaten for dinner. And the sofa bore the telltale effects of previously having had someone sprawled across it, the cushions in disarray.

As for décor, it was eclectic, modern furniture battling with an array of plants and ornaments. Even the artwork on the walls couldn’t seem to decide whether abstract or traditional was the preference, a piece full of blocks of color sharing a wall with an oil painting.

Darien followed my gaze with a shrug. “I put up what I like. Hayden always claims I’m confused, that I need to decide what I’m into and stick to it.”

“It’s nice,” I said, and I meant it. “Far nicer than my mother’s place. I don’t think she even likes half the stuff she’s got on display. It’s mainly there as a status symbol, or because it was a gift and she doesn’t want to offend the giver.” I pointed at the TV. “Sorry for disturbing your evening. I hope you’d finished whatever it was you were watching.”

Darien gave a quiet laugh. “It’s fine. I think I can live without finding out whether Regina caved to pressure from her family and gave up prostitution.” At my raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “Unusual documentaries are kind of my thing. The one I was watching tonight was about grandmas who escort. It was kind of eye-opening.”

“I bet.” There was a bookcase over by the far wall, and I wandered over to study it. Again, there was an eclectic feel to it, books on travel competing for space with post-apocalyptic thrillers.

“Are you hungry?”

I should have been when I hadn’t eaten since lunch, but apparently your neighbors organizing a lynch mob was an effective appetite suppressant. Who knew? “I’m fine.”

“I can make you a sandwich. Or…” Darien’s brow wrinkled. “I’ve got soup. Only the canned kind that keeps forever, but most of the time, it’s just as good as the stuff that costs twice as much.”

“Is that for the apocalypse?” At his blank stare, I pointed to a book. “I thought these were stories, but given your love of documentaries, I’m thinking you might use them as research.”

Darien laughed. “God, I hope not. Or I’m as good as dead if the end of the world arrives tomorrow.”

I’ll protect you. The thought came from nowhere and, for one horrifying moment, I thought I might have said it out loud. Where the fuck had that come from? Darien wouldn’t thank me for going all macho on his ass for a post-apocalyptic event that wouldn’t happen. He’d given me a place to stay for the night, not confessed undying love. “I think we might be safe tomorrow. I reckon we’ve got another couple of weeks, at least. ”

“Pasta?” Darien offered, his mind still on food. “That doesn’t take long. Or an omelet? I’m not a great cook, but I can manage that.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

Darien rescued the remote control from where it had gotten wedged between the sofa cushions and turned the TV off. His gaze strayed to my bag. “I guess I’ll show you the guestroom, then. I’ll need to make the bed up, because… Well, because like I said, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I can do that. You’ve done enough tonight.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.” I tried not to stare at Darien’s tight arse as he led me up the stairs, but failed miserably. He seemed unaware of my scrutiny, more interested in pointing out the bathroom and demonstrating how the shower worked. Once he’d led me into the guestroom, he muttered something about bedding and left.

It was a nice room, most of the space taken up by a double bed when I would have been happy with a single. Hell, I would have been happy with a mattress on the floor. Once you’d slept in a hard and extremely narrow prison bunk, you had much lower expectations for sleeping arrangements.

A small ceramic gray lamp sat on a nightstand next to the bed, its color matching the plain curtains hanging at the window. A single wardrobe with drawers beneath it took up the rest of the space. By the time I’d finished my study of the room, Darien was back, his arms full of bedding. “How about we do it together?” he suggested. “That way, it should take half the time.”

I accepted the compromise, and we spent the next few minutes fitting, smoothing, and straightening together until we decked out the bed to match the lamp and the curtains .

“My mum,” Darien said as he saw me looking between the three things.

“Huh?”

“She believes in things matching. She seems to think guests will run away screaming if I confront them with mismatched décor.”

I liked these brief insights into Darien’s character and background, storing them away to contemplate later. “She chose the gray?”

He shook his head. “That was a compromise. She would have gone for something far more fussy if I’d left her to it, so you should be grateful for that.”

“I like gray.”

“It matches your eyes.”

I saw the moment Darien wished he could take the words back, a rosy flush appearing on his cheeks. It made me want to drag him closer and kiss him. I didn’t, exerting a willpower I hadn’t known I was capable of and smoothing an invisible crease on the pillow instead.

Darien cleared his throat and took a step back. “I don’t know what you want to do now… whether you want to watch some TV? Or…?”

“I’ll probably just go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

There was no telling whether that was the correct answer from Darien’s nod. Before I could analyze it to death and consider changing my mind, he flashed a smile. “Well… I’ll leave you to it. If you wake up hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“Even your best silver?”

He laughed. “If you can find any, it’s yours. You’ll be lucky to get away with a chipped mug and a fork with only three tines, though.” He headed for the door, pausing in the doorway. “I’ll need to go to work in the morning, but don’t feel you have to be up. I’ll leave the spare key on the kitchen table and then, when I get home from work, we can talk. Come up with a plan of action. ”

“Sounds good.” It sounded better than good. I nearly hadn’t called him earlier, life having administered enough blows today without having to suffer another rejection. But I should have known that Darien was better than that, that he’d put aside any personal feelings to go above and beyond what his job entailed. I doubted Katherine would have rescued me from a park bench.

I pondered that while I unpacked the few belongings I had before stripping to my underwear and climbing beneath the sheets. I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling. What was Darien doing? Had he gone to bed? I resisted the urge to find out. He’d probably had enough of me for one day.