Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Imogen

I woke up blushing.

That dream… the way it ended. I'd had plenty of nightmares but never ones that finished like that. It took me a moment to recognise my surroundings, but when I did, I sighed. No dingy, stinky bedroom, no snoring Mike, just… peace. The pleasant styling of the room allowed me to take a full breath, right before I went to jump out of bed.

My wrist made clear what a mistake that was.

"Fuck… fuck…" I winced, staring down at the brace and then gingerly raised it up so it rested against my chest. The angle instantly improved things. I felt around for the sling and then put that on, my muscles finally able to relax. The bruising was still a dull throb but much more manageable.

I looked at the messy pile of my clothes on the floor and knew I wouldn't be putting them back on. They were dirty for one, but also it was hard enough to get them off, let alone put them back on again. Instead, I got up and went to the loo, then when my stomach began to rumble, protesting the lack of dinner last night, I walked out.

This felt like shuffling down the hall of a hotel in my PJs, but it appeared I wasn't the only one. Up ahead of me, a few women and a cluster of children were ushered into a room. I could smell coffee and that lured me onwards more surely than a siren's song. I walked into the dining room to see a lot of people had the same idea.

Tired, worn faces and tentative smiles–I saw a lot of that as I scanned the room, but it was the black eye on one woman that had my eyes widening. She met my fleeting gaze head on, her head held high, so I jerked mine down. I wanted to apologise, but I didn't know her, so instead I went to the coffee urn and began to pour myself a big mug.

"Mum, I don't like this cereal." The woman with the black eye's daughter looked up at her, pleading for other options and I could see why. Generic boxes of cereal, jugs of milk, and some fruit were all that was on offer. "I like Froot Loops."

"I know, sweetie, but?—"

"Froot Loops!" A little boy ran around in circles beside her, shouting his demands. "Froot Loops!"

"Honey, they don't have?—"

I heard the tremble in the woman's voice. Just a little shake, but it spoke louder than anything else anyone was saying. It told me the story of how she was trying to stay strong, but it was hard, really fucking hard. I couldn't produce Froot Loops out of the air, but I felt I had to. Anything to help settle the kids, take that burden from their mother. She wanted that too, I could see it in the way she frantically looked around the room, trying to summon those sugary rings of dubious origin as if from thin air, but instead it was all Weet-Bix, Cornflakes, and muesli for fuck's sake. My mind worked, wondering where I could get something a bit more kid friendly from.

And that's when I remembered the kitchen I saw last night.

I walked in through the door, seeing gleaming stainless steel everywhere before I spied the big walk-in cool room. I yanked open the door to see not a lot, but there was some honey and eggs. In the pantry there was some flour, and that's when inspiration hit.

"What about pancakes?" I asked, thrusting my head through the servery window and addressing the kids. "Would pancakes do?"

The woman pulled her kids closer, and they wrapped their arms around her legs. That was a defence mechanism if ever I saw one. By clustering close, they were at their strongest, but moments later, the little girl looked up at her mother.

"Can we have pancakes?"

"Oh, well, I'm not sure—" Mum started to say.

"I'm happy to make them if you want," I told her, and when she met my eyes this time, it was with a completely different look. I saw the sadness and frustration there, but also gratitude. If it took buying a bit of peace, she'd let me make pancakes.

"Thank you. That's very kind…"

"Imogen," I replied. "I'm Imogen."

"This is Kaleb and Ava," she said, pointing to her children. "And I'm Hannah."

"Nice to meet you, Hannah. Do you think the kids could give me a bit of a hand? I'm short one currently."

I held up my injured hand.

"Can we?"

I felt a little bad, but Ava's face lit up at the idea, Kaleb going along for the ride. Hannah hesitated, then seemed to remember where she was.

"Yes, but you need to listen to Imogen. No mucking around."

The light dimmed in Ava's eyes considerably, making me wonder what she'd seen, but pondering that wouldn't get her pancakes, so she nodded.

"If you could grab one of those jugs of milk?" I asked the girl.

"Are you sure?" Hannah tensed immediately. "Be careful. Don't spill any!"

But she wouldn't. The girl's entire attention was trained on carrying the milk into the kitchen, though I admit I let out a little sigh when she put it on the counter.

"Good job," I said. "Now, who's good at cracking eggs?"

Neither of them were, and I think there was more than a little eggshell in there. I'd found a blender and whipped the mix together that way. They didn't care, clustering close as I started to melt butter into the pan.

"Not too close," I said. "This is gas and those flames are hot. Now, what kind of animal do you want as a pancake?"

"Animal pancakes?" Ava asked with a quizzical expression. "There's no such thing."

"Sure there is. You just wait and see. I'm going to make…" My cheeks flushed as I remembered last night's dream. A power fantasy if ever there was one, I'd re-imagined Asher as a polar bear, ready to tear my enemies limb from limb, right before— "A bear. A polar bear because the pancake mix is pretty white." Using the jug, I managed to pour out a mangled looking bear into the pan.

"That's not a bear," Kaleb scoffed.

"It kind of is. That's the head, those are the paws." Ava gestured to the pan. "He needs a blueberry for an eye!"

She leapt down from the chair she was standing on, ducking back into the dining room and retrieving a berry before handing it to me to place in the pan. It made the bear pancake look a bit owl eyed, but the kids seemed happy about it. When cooked, I slid it onto a plate and then cut it in two for the kids, adding some honey for sweetness. Lemon and sugar would've been better, but we had to make do with what we had. The kids declared it tasty, demanding more bears, right as they walked in the door.

"And what do we have here?" Kyle sniffed the air and then prowled closer, the kids starting to giggle. "That smells a lot better than cereal."

"Pancakes!" Kaleb declared, holding up a chunk of his with glee.

"Is everything OK?" Hannah appeared in the servery window, but when she saw the guys, she couldn't help but shrink back slightly. Kyle's smile faded as he moved himself deliberately away from the children.

"Just following the amazing smell. You cooked pancakes?"

There was a temptation to step back, downplay what I'd done, but why? It was no great feat.

"Yeah, Kaleb here was sick of cereal, so I saw we had the makings of some pancakes, so I made them a few." I held up the bowl. "I've got some more of the mix if you want some."

"Get them made into bears!" Ava said, cutting the head off hers viciously. "And put blueberries in for eyes."

"A couple of blueberries coming up," Kyle announced, the kids launching themselves at him, wrapping their arms about his neck and climbing onto his back as he stomped around to the dining room. They giggled as he threw a couple of berries in the air, catching two out of three in his mouth, and while that had me smiling, Hannah looked sad.

"He's so good with the kids." That longing look broke my heart, because it didn't seem like she was lusting after the guy, just wanting this kind of behaviour from the children's actual father. I'm guessing instead he was the one who gave her that shiner. "Kaleb just adores him." She seemed to notice Lucas standing there finally. "All of you"

"Kyle's the one with the rapport with kids. I…" I caught his blush as he looked my way. "I'm not bad at cooking though." He stepped closer. "Let me. I was going to make you breakfast anyway."

I looked at the ingredients strewn across the kitchen bench tops and then had a terrible realisation.

"Oh." I stepped away from the range. "These were your eggs. You?—"

"Don't mind at all." Lucas seemed to grow in confidence by the second, shooting me a secret smile. "Really, but… you could make it up to me by letting me make the rest of the pancakes."

"Bear ones?" His lips twitched at my question, but I stepped away with a little flourish. "I'll only accept really awesome ones that look like an actual bear…"

I was making a dumb joke, playing along, but it seemed to be the right thing to say. Lucas was way too focussed on my reactions to do a good job of the pancakes, and yet when he flipped the one he was working with, now sporting a blue eye courtesy of Kyle and the kids, I nodded in recognition. There was a pretty plausible bear shape in the frypan.

Which had me remembering.

It was just a dream. I'd taken the discourse about choosing between a bear and a man too literally, my subconscious making clear which I'd take, even though living in Australia I'd never need to worry about it. My hands rose, ready to cut into the pancake, but something stopped me. Kisses hard enough to make my lips throb, the slight burn of Asher's stubble as he kissed lower. I looked around frantically, trying to focus on anything else but that damn dream when the man himself came strolling in the door.

Did he notice that the whole kitchen went quiet when he did? The sound of the pancakes cooking was the only thing breaking the silence. Those cool blue eyes took everything in, us standing around the kitchen counter, the plates with the remains of our breakfast on it, and Lucas cooking.

"We're having pancakes," Kaleb announced. "Immie made us bear ones."

"Did she?"

His eyes met mine, and that felt insanely intimate right now, like he could see right into my head, catching the action replay of my X-rated dream. What else would explain that small smile of his? Instead, I forced my eyes down, reminding myself that there was absolutely no way that was true.

"Bear pancakes," Lucas said, coming over to my plate and sliding another one on, even when I made a sound of protest. If I had two, other people would miss out.

"Why bear pancakes?"

Asher sat down beside me, and suddenly I was painfully aware of how huge he was. That and the pine needle scent of his cologne made me way too conscious of the actual man, my brain searching for differences between dream-Asher and real-Asher and not finding any. Instead, I was forced to acknowledge that his question was directed at me. I looked up with a smile, but that faded when I met his gaze, because it felt like he was too close right now.

"Um, I said I'd make the kids animal pancakes and I decided to make bears." I shrugged. "Guess I was inspired by Kyle's story time from last night."

" The Grumpy Bear ?" Kaleb perked up. "Love the grumpy bear."

He was up and out of his chair, holding his hands out like claws, then stomping around, right before Kyle scooped him up and put the boy right back where he was.

"Pretty sure no bear would walk away from honey pancakes. Better eat them up or the big bear will steal them."

The little boy let out a squeal as Kyle reached for his plate, batting away the man's hands before munching on the remainder of his pancake.

"Well, someone else needs to eat this one," I said, pushing my plate away, "because I need to get to work."

"No." I blinked, then stared at Asher. "That won't be possible, Imogen."

"What?" I patted my pockets with my spare hand, ready to look at my phone and see how much time I had until my shift, when I remembered. Phil smashed my phone before grabbing me, but after the scuffle, I hadn't bothered to retrieve it. My phone was either crushed into a million pieces or stolen by now. I let out a long sigh, trying not to show how that loss affected me. I was still going to have to pay the rest of the contract off and that couldn't happen without a job. "Of course it's possible. I have to make money to pay my rent?—"

"Your place was broken into last night."

Phil might've tried to wrench my arm out of its socket, but right now Asher's words hit like a gut punch.

"What?" I glanced at the others. "But you secured the place."

"I got a call last night. The door we installed is still in one piece, but the door frame had dry rot. All the locks in the world wouldn't keep someone out if they kicked it down," he told me.

"Why?" I didn't want to know the answer, somehow I knew. "Why? Why would anyone?—?"

"It was Phil." Asher's voice sounded like ashes. "I assume he came by to make sure you stayed quiet, didn't press charges. He was out on bail for…" It was then he remembered we had an audience, the children now sitting there perfectly silent, trying to parse what all of this meant.

"C'mon, kids," Kyle said. "How about horsey rides back to Mum's table?"

"Horsey rides!"

Kaleb seemed the most resilient, instantly perking up, but Ava? She put her arm around her brother's shoulders and steered him out the kitchen door.

"Battering his wife."

I said the words, feeling saliva pool in my mouth. The police had told me what they could, trying to impress on me the danger the man posed.

But I did everything right. They told me to stay with the guys in their swanky facility that night, and I did. I didn't go home, to my own bed, to my own stuff…

"What did he do?" I asked Asher, but when he didn't answer instantly, I looked at Lucas, then Kyle when he reappeared.

"We don't know," Lucas replied. "A call must've come in last night."

"I talked to the police attending the scene," Asher replied, "then took a look around."

His lips thinning, the hollows of his cheeks becoming more pronounced told me everything I needed to know, and yet it wasn't enough.

"I need to see." I jumped to my feet. "I need to see for myself."

They'd told me to take everything I would miss if I left it behind and I had. We'd packed it all carefully, then moved it into my new place. The apartment I'd spent months saving for. The other night they secured it, helped me to make it mine. We'd sat around my table and Kyle had forced himself to eat dry Weet-Bix. None of that meshed with what Asher was telling me.

An hour or so later, I was walking up the steps to inspect the damage for myself.

Ursula had appeared with some clean clothes and helped me get dressed, the guys insisting on driving me over. I sat there silently in the back seat, Lucas by my side, and watched the streets whizz by. Then when we parked out the front, I caught sight of several white vans with the logos of a cleaning company stencilled on them.

Only to discover a team was already hard at work.

The apartment had smelled musty, of old wood and new bleach, when I first moved in, but who would've thought that would be something I'd miss. Better than this. As soon as I walked in the door, I was hit by the stench of human piss, seeing piles of my clothes, my books scattered across the apartment. A thin, animal whine of pain escaped my lips as I watched strangers move through the rooms, picking up every single one of my worldly possessions. Clothes were ferried into the laundry, the whirr of the machine telling me it was at work to clean all residue from them, but my books. My mouth worked as I staggered closer.

Mike hated my books, hated me reading because that took my attention away from him. I'd been forced to hide them, pretend they were about completely different things, the idiot jealous of the romantic heroes I read about. But through all that, I'd managed to preserve them, even if the pages yellowed with age. In one night, Phil had ruined the lot of them, tossing them around the room in a fit of pique, then fishing out his cock to piss on them.

"Phone."

I barked the order like a surgeon might on a medical drama, but when I held out a hand, one was placed in my palm. I was told the code to unlock it, then punched the numbers in. I remembered Mike's phone number by heart and I was willing to bet he wouldn't even remember the start of mine.

"Y'ello."

His nonchalant greeting set my teeth on edge.

"Why the fuck did your dickhead mate break into my apartment and piss all over my stuff?"