Page 12 of In Step

“Sorry, but I’m not... I don’t... I didn’t mean... shit.”

Abe’s expression turned from interest to concern and then embarrassment and apology, and he stepped back, lifting his hands. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry. I—”

“I should really go.” I spun on my heels and legged it back onto the road and up the hill, my face hot enough to fry an egg. I was such an idiot. Back at the homestead, I took the stairs two at a time and practically fell into my bedsit. I leaned against the closed door and waited for my heart to calm the fuck down. I needed a drink or ten, but a water was going to have to do.

What the hell had I been thinking even talking to the guy? Abe wasJudah’sfriend, for fuck’s sake.

I breathed out a heavy sigh and slumped against the door because, the truth was, I knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I’d been thinking that for just a moment, for a few seconds, a man hadseenme. Abe had seen me.Me.Kane Martin. Free of my fucked-up past, the pretence, the hiding, the shame. Abe had simply seen a guy that he apparently found attractive. And wasn’t that just a fucking mind trip? I couldn’t have turned away if Judah had walked into the damn studio himself.

It didn’t get any more pathetic. The sooner I was out of this suffocating town and into a life where I could be myself and no one knew my past, the better. Because just for a few seconds with Abe, I’d felt almost okay.

I ran a hand over the wall behind, hitting the light switch by chance. But as my head cleared of all my stupid thoughts, something stopped me from taking a step into the bright room. I dropped my bag and looked around, my heart thundering in my chest.

The bedsit was quiet, nothing out of place, but something was... off. My gaze swept over the space again, still finding nothing, but it didn’t stop my skin from crawling. And then it hit me. It wasn’t that there was anything to see. It was the smell. A familiar sour tang of hops and sweat that buckled my knees.

My father had been here.

“Oh, hell fucking no.” I strode to the middle of the room. “Dad!”

The only answer was a yowl from my right, and I raced into the bathroom to find Bossy cowered next to the toilet, hackles raised. He arched his back, then realised it was me and his cry softened to a mewl.

“Shh, boy. Come here.” I got my hands around his shaking body and buried my face in his fur, refusing to think about why he hadn’t raced out to greet me as he usually did when I got home.

“Did he touch you?” I lifted Bossy to eye level and walked him out into the light, but thankfully he looked just fine, if a little scared.

Then I remembered Widget and froze at the sight of his cage door swinging free, knowing damn well it had been closed when I’d left that morning. But when I raced into the laundry, the rabbit was happily munching on his greens, completely oblivious. I shook my head. Sometimes a small brain was a good thing.

My heart settled in my chest and I did a slow circuit of the bedsit, relieved to find nothing else disturbed. Even so, just knowing he’d been there sent bile flooding up the back of my throat, and regardless of the freezing cold I threw a window open. What I really wanted was to scrub the place from top to fucking bottom until I couldn’t catch even a whiff of him, but a blast of fresh air was going to have to do.

It wasn’t until I reached the kitchen that I saw the single large, brown envelope sitting on the countertop, hardly visible against the butcher block.

“Shit.” I put Bossy on the floor and stared at the thick envelope like it might jump up and bite me. Then I ripped it open.

The first thing out was a fucking thirtieth birthday card.

Happy birthday son. Nice cat.

“Fuck you.” I threw the card to the side, trying to stem the rising tide of fear at his casual mention of Bossy. My father said nothing without it having meaning. I pulled out the sheaf of papers and quickly flipped through them, noting the sticky arrows meant for my signature.

I almost laughed.That motherfucker. Not a fucking chance.

Still, I read them again, more carefully this time, dropping my hand from where I’d been fingering the scar in my hairline, only to find it back there again within seconds. My phone buzzed, and I knew without even looking at the screen.

I sighed and swiped it open.

Sign. It’s not yours. It never was. It belongs to me. My work. My life. Your mother knew that. She’d never take it from me. Don’t be selfish. Do the right thing.

The words stung even though I knew they were lies. Even though I knew that’s exactly what he wanted. The phone clattered on the counter and I fumbled to pick it up, firing off a reply before I lost the nerve.

I’m not signing anything. And stay the fuck out of my flat. You come again and I’ll report you. FYI it was always fucking mine from the day she left it to me.

I waited, but there was no reply, and after a minute, I threw the phone aside and ran heaving to the bathroom.

CHAPTERFIVE

Abe

I passedthe bread buns across the table to Leroy who shoved two on his plate and began piling them high with fixings. I’d found enough in the kitchen to get a simple dinner ready by the time they returned from training, and judging by the way they fell on the food like hungry wolves, it was appreciated.

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