by Sabre, Mason
He didn’t believe she was serious at first. But she grabbed his hand when he had hold of one of them. He couldn’t get her to let go. He tried, but her grasp was too tight. Her long fingernails digging into his wrist, she dragged him, pleading and crying to the brook. She held his hand under the water, forcing him to hold the kitten under. Made him hold onto it until its little life ebbed away and she stopped fighting for air.
A sob scratched at the back of his throat at the sight of Bob’s face, accusing him. Her heart breaking as he killed one of her children.
“You do the other one.” his hateful mother ordered.
He picked the kitten up, holding it to his chest. Cradling it. He should throw the cat, give it a chance to run, but it was too small, too tiny. It didn’t even open its eyes properly. He begged her. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.
“I’m going to take myself a bath,” she ground out to him. “And when I come back, I want to see the body of that piece of shit or you will not be coming back into my house.” She leaned in real close, her breath thick with the stench of booze. “I’ll drown you instead. I should have all those years ago.”
She’d wandered off, back into the house, and William buried his face into the innocent animal’s back. He didn’t drown the second kitten. He got Bob and her kitten and took them to the farthest part of the garden. He put the kitten down, put Bob down. “Get out of here,” he yelled at Bob. He smacked a stick on the ground near her baby, making her hiss at him. He screamed at her. “Get lost. Go.” Each word sobbed from him. “Go.”
Bob left and he dug up the small body of the kitten who had died and washed him off in the brook. He was a little smaller than the one he had let live, but maybe his mother wouldn’t notice.
Josh forced himself out of the memory, leaving William to deal with the dead cats. It was William that couldn’t clean the death off his hands, not Josh. William had done that. He had caused that kitten to die, Josh would have drowned the woman that claimed to be a mother. It was Josh that stood with Rosie, fists clenched to his sides, feeling that kitten dying because William was too weak.
“I had a cat,” she said. “We …”
The phone back at the house rang out with a loud shrill. It was always set to loud so that it would wake his mother when she was out of it. Not that it ever did.
“Give me a second,” he said, dashing off, thankful for that moment where he could push the memories from his mind. “William Carter speaking. How can I help?” he said.
“You left me,” called a woman’s voice on the line. “I can’t do this without you. You left me by myself.”
Josh’s heart sank and he leaned against the counter, head down. “I didn’t leave you.”
“You did,” she sobbed. “You left me. I love you and you left.”
“I didn’t. I’m still here.”
“Come and see me. Please. I can’t cope without you.”
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
“No. I need you now. I need …” the voice trailed off in a mixture of sobs and sniffing. “Please. I just need to see you.”
“I’ll come this evening, okay? I’m just busy with something.”
“You have someone there? You …”
“No. I’m just doing something. I’ll be there in a bit okay. We can watch a movie? You like that?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” The voice on the other end calmed and Josh untensed. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
As he turned to hang up the phone, Rosie was standing at the doorway to his kitchen.
Chapter Fourteen
Rosie
She tried not to hear. Well, more like she tried not to hear what it sounded like—like he’d scheduled a date with a girl. The dread twisting her stomach was hard to fight. “Sorry,” she called when he turned and saw her. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I mean I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just.” She looked around nodding. “Really nice out here.”
“That was … uh—”
“Don’t, please,” she cut in as he stepped onto the porch. “It’s not my business. Your personal life is not my concern. You’ve got yours; I’ve got mine.”
“It was nobody important,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Oh?” Just drop it Rosie. Move along. “A girlfriend?” A girlfriend? You idiot.
“No, not at all,” he hurried.
“Sister?” she blurted before shooting a hand up. “Don’t even answer that. I’m way over the line. I just don’t want you to think you’re obligated.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Thinking I’m obligated,” he added, seeming nervous now. He narrowed his brows like he’d misspoke. “I mean I don’t think …” he gushed a light laugh. “Wow, that was my uh, friend. She’s not very well. She gets a bit lonely at times. I keep her company sometimes when it gets a bit hard for her. I ...”
Immediate shame and relief hit her. “Oh … so sorry.”
“No, nothing to be sorry about. It’s just what friends do. She’s housebound.”
“Well that’s very nice.”
“She’s just a mate.”
She nodded, trying to remember if mate meant boy or girl in their language. No non-obvious way to clarify that presented itself to her paranoid mind. Drop it, nosy Rosie, not your damn business. But if it was a girlfriend she wanted to know, she had to. “Look,” she said, taking a deep breath and gazing around. “I’m going to come right out and just say this. If you have a girlfriend, I’m perfectly fine with that?”
“Okay,” he said, lowering his head, nodding. “And of course if you have a boyfriend I’m okay with that too.”
Wow. Okay. She was nodding a lot, ready to get back to thinking the best instead of the worst. “The garden is so beautiful,” she said, brightening.
“You like it?” he asked, seeming just as eager to change the subject, making her feel worse instead of better. Like he was not wanting to just tell her he didn’t have a girlfriend. Why else would he not want to tell her that, other than because he did have one?
He never said that, stop jumping the gun. For once in your life, believe the best instead of the worst.
She’d do what she’d vowed to start doing. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
“You’re probably ready to head back,” he said.
“I do have things I need to do,” she half lied. “As do you.”
“Okay,” he nodded, not disagreeing, because he did have to go take care of his friend.
“I have work tonight too,” she said, pushing hair behind her ear, getting more uncomfortable by the second with the way he was acting. Nervous. Guilty.
God this sucked.
“When do you think I get to start working there?” he asked.
“Oh,” she remembered. “I did bring the paperwork for you to fill out. It’s just questions about experience and stuff. I’ll get the criminal check sent off too. When you drop me off I’ll give it to you and you can do that and, I’ll … or you can call me?” she suggested, not sure what was proper now. “Call me when you have it?”
“I can drop it to you,” he said. “At your place?”
Her heart hammered as she imagined his disgust when he saw where she lived. “How about you call me and we can meet at the same coffee shop and go over it?”
“I can fill it out today,” he said.
“Or that, yes. Maybe when you drop me off at the car, you can fill it out and I can take it with me.”
“I meant just fill it out today later, but I can do that.”
“Whenever,” she hurried. “Today, tomorrow, next week. Never.” She laughed nervously at the stupid slip.
“Never?” he eyed her.
“I just mean you’re not obligated, it’s volunteer.”
He nodded and looked around. “Okay.”
Okay. Okay, okay, okay, it was suddenly his favorite word. “Okay,” she said, nodding.
And that semi-concluded the most disheartening, most awkw
ard, most stupid moment in their brand new relationship.
The ride back was just as awkward. Holding him around his waist suddenly felt all wrong. She remembered how he’d suggested she hold the bar at first and a sick feeling twisted her guts. Maybe he hadn’t wanted her touching him like that.
Then why bring a helmet and take her on a ride? Maybe because not everybody who takes you riding on their motorcycle wants to be your boyfriend? Maybe he thought you would use the hooks on the bike and not his pants? Well it had to mean something, she wasn’t that stupid. But what? It had better not be some fling kind of meaning.
Was this about the volunteer work? Was he just making sure he got the position?
The thirty-minute drive back was filled with every negative scenario explaining the meaning behind him in her life. All the reasons she came up with had her ready to kick him then push his stupid bike over. She’d not act on any of it of course, she’d wait. Wait for him to prove her right. Piece of shit.
She got the application for him while blathering a hundred miles an hour about the amazing time she had. She couldn’t have him clued in on the acidic thoughts burning in her head just in case she was wrong. Yes, she still allowed a barely there hope to cast its weak light on her bag of worst case scenarios. She’d been at this dating disaster long enough to figure out that maybe her negativity was causing things to happen, just like that book said. That meant she had to be a ray of pissy sunshine until it was validated. And that was happening with every second that ended their date. His entire demeanor screamed you busted me and you’re not even worth trying to fool. No, that wasn’t true, he was trying. He was trying to do something. She was pretty positive he was struggling with how to break it to her, how to explain why he couldn’t be in a relationship, or why he couldn’t be more than what she’d been shamefully suggesting, begging to have with him; like a desperate, loser twit that he probably was only nice to because he either felt sorry for her, or because he wanted her job. Probably both.
What ... ever.
Rosie sat in her car fuming while he climbed on his bike. He sure seemed in a hurry. Probably going to see her now. She started her car, beyond caring about the embarrassment and maybe even hoping it would backfire and startle the shit out of him. She was prepared to smile and wave.
Of course, the car did no such thing. It only did that when she prayed it didn’t. She ground the gears into submission, pulling out of her spot. She eyed the dark visor of his helmet aimed at her and flicked her finger for him to go first. She didn’t want him behind her. He tossed her a wave and went ahead and she found herself hurrying after. When he took a right out of the parking lot, she did the same, even though home was left. Maybe she wasn’t ready to go home.
When he took another right, she fought the need to follow him. Go left, bunny boiler.
She forced herself to continue straight, punching the accelerator and causing that explosion of firecrackers in her tailpipe, all while visions of obsession danced in her head. She wouldn’t be that person. She hated obsessive stupid women that were so desperate. Course, it would be kind of funny if she went to his house and cleaned out his garden while he wasn’t there. Left ‘I love you’ notes everywhere. In blood.
She made her way back home, every second bringing with it a feeling of regret. By the time she sat in her idling car in the driveway, in her little private dirty part of Hell, she was a rigid wall of cringe as she replayed the day, beginning at the moment she overheard his phone call. God, she’d acted like a jealous girlfriend. Of course he’d seen it. Probably what weirded him out.
Shit, she’d done exactly what she’d practiced and swore to not do.
She grabbed her phone and located his number on it. Her thumb trembled several seconds over the send button then pressed it.
She put it to her ear, listening to the rings, her heart and stomach switching places. The ringing stopped and she looked down. Call disconnected?
She hit call again, and this time, it connected, then and hung up. What the hell? She stared down at the phone. She had plenty of bar coverage, the call shouldn’t drop.
She finally texted him what she’d intended to tell him. I’m sorry if I acted weird.
Why hadn’t she just texted him in the first place? Maybe because she wanted to hear it in his voice, hear if he meant the words.
She waited in the car, shutting it off. He finally texted her back and her heart sank with his reply.
Okay.
Okay? That’s it? Okay? What’s okay? He’s okay? She’s okay? What she did is okay? Or okay as in he understands, he gets it, he agrees, he what? She’d definitely screwed up. England style. Royally.
She suddenly wished she’d gotten Williams number. She just wanted somebody to talk to that she didn’t feel the need to play big girl with, somebody that understood what broken was. Even if he didn’t know about her broken, she realized knowing he was, made her feel … at home.
Chapter Fifteen
Josh
Josh could see Rosie in the mirror on his bike, her hands poised on the wheel, eyes clearly glued to him. Yeah he’d fucked this one up, again. No, not him, William. And her. Not Rosie—fucking Maria. He’d managed to not say her name in his mind—he was that pissed at her. He wanted to pull his bike over, go to Rosie and explain everything … that he was an idiot. Yes, Josh was an idiot for letting William be an idiot.
Gripping the throttle tighter, he pushed on, turning in totally the wrong direction of where he needed to go. Maria could call and fucking cry for all he cared. It was always when she needed something. Always when her hour of need was up. She wasn’t ruining this for him. It was over, she had to realise that.
He pushed on down the road, and it was almost a relief when Rosie went straight on the other road. The distant sound of her car backfiring made him pause and listen. Maybe he needed to go that way and see if she needed any help. It backfired again, the mechanical gunshot in the silence of the streets, farther away, though. She was fine.
He carried on until he reached the main road. He knew these places like the back of his hand—always his escape route when she had pushed him too far again. He didn’t go like he had promised. Would serve her right for scaring Rosie off like that and making him lie. He hated liars; hated them so much. He’d had enough of it with his mother over his lifetime that he had always promised to be honest no matter the cost. But seeing Rosie there at his back door, the hurt on her face. She had heard … he just couldn’t tell her the truth. Maybe she would never know. It could be one of those unspoken secrets they both knew about, but neither of them raised it. Yeah. He could forget Maria and happily never speak of her again.
Josh rode his bike all the way to the bridge—the bridge. It was so different in the day, busy, alive. Pulling onto the pavement right at the highest point, he unsaddled and strode over to the wall. William, who had stood here on a night weeks ago was gone. He peered down at the water—the water William had thrown himself into. It was such a different lifetime.
Turning, he leaned himself against the wall, the sun beating down on his face. So much had changed now. He would call Maria back tomorrow and tell her it was over. She needed to understand that. She needed to be out of his life. She couldn’t call making her demands on him—He’d see her when he wanted to and on his terms. She could like that or she could take a jump. What if one day Rosie was the one to answer the phone?
No.
He’d have to fix that.
The forms Rosie had given him; he’d stuffed into his pocket in haste to get out of there before he said anything worse. It seemed that no matter what he said or how he said it, he dug this gigantic fucking hole with Rosie. He’d not make any more mistakes with her.
He stared at the crumpled sheets in his hand. Never. That was what she had said. It was a slip of the tongue and her nervousness, he knew that, but … didn’t they say that these slips meant peoples true intentions? Like if you say someone else’s name instead of who you meant, it is who you
should be with?
Maybe, but then it wasn’t her fault. It was Maria’s. If she hadn’t called ...
His hand trembled as he clenched the papers, fighting with himself not to crush them in his hand. He couldn’t get the image of Rosie from his mind. She had seemed pretty mad about the call, even though she had done her best to hide it. Leaning against the wall of the bridge, Josh held the crumpled papers to him and closed his eyes. What had Carly taught him? In through the nose, out through the mouth? Focusing his mind on the pressure of the ground under his feet and the hardness of the stone bridge wall at the small of his back, he attempted to centre himself and calm his thoughts. They were just like the ones that had caused William to jump from this very place—thoughts of her.
Josh turned to stare at the water running beneath the bridge. It was calm today, the sun reflecting up from its surface. Little glittering ripples fluttered over the vast murky river. That’s what Rosie was. With all her madness and jealousy. He smiled at the memory of her face, the way she flushed, gasping, stammering on her words. She was the little glittering sunshine in his murky water.
He pulled a pen from his pocket and flattened the forms out on the top of the wall. He’d fill this in, but he wouldn’t call her. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Thanks to William. There was no way he’d risk her recognizing his voice as William on the phone. He’d just let her calm down and he would calm down. He needed to get the house finished, maybe change his number and then Maria couldn’t bother him again—he was done with her. Didn’t she learn her lesson the last time?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He jammed his hands in without looking. It would just be more tears, more come and be with me William because I can’t be alone. Maria and all her wailing and complaining. He pushed the top button to ignore the call and went back to the forms.
He filled out his address and the phone buzzed again. He pulled it out, clicked answer and then hung up. Could she not get the bloody message? One more call, and he would tell her where to go. He wasn’t going to look. He wasn’t going to give in. She’d ruined enough for him. He wrote fast, filling everything in, name … he paused over that part, wanting to write Josh, but would they do checks? Would they search for Josh and not find him and then he couldn’t have the job? Rosie would learn then that Josh wasn’t registered.
