Page 7 of August's Thief
“You okay, Gussie?” he whispered against my chest. “Your heart’s galloping like a racehorse.”
“Yes. Very.”
I didn’t add that my mind galloped faster. Cantering far ahead, to summer pastures, to the lush fields of my estate, and me, strolling through them with this beautiful boy tucked under my arm, his fabulous eyes gazing up at me like I was everything he ever wanted.
Galloping far too fast and dangerously out of control; I tugged on the reins. “But that cuppa won’t make itself.”
I teased us apart and made efficient use of the wipes. After fastening my own clothing, I reached for Dawson’s dungarees, still pooled at his knees. With a lopsided grin, he allowed me to dress him.
“Mikey gets eggy if his tea arrives late. He likes his routines.” He dropped a last soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, on the ugly corner. And my heart melted a little bit more.
“Is there just you and Mikey living here?” I asked as he poured boiling water over the teabags.
“Yeah. I’m his sole carer.”
I thought back to the police cell and our trip to Tesco. “Who looks after him if you have to go out?”Or get arrested?
“Eileen in the flat next door comes and sits with him. I only pay her five quid an hour. He loves her—she’s eighty-two with a dicky ticker, so she doesn’t get out much either. She brings herknitting and lets him get the wool in a tangle. She sings to him as well—bloody awful racket, but he loves it. Pass us the milk.”
While Eileen was undoubtedly a wonderful woman, Dawson’s back-up network sounded a little precarious. “Being his um… sole carer must be… hard work?”
Dawson threw me a friendly smile. “Nah, not really. ‘He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.’ Know what I mean?”
Fishing the teabags out of the mugs, he flicked them into the bin. “Well, that’s actually a lie. He is heavy; getting him in and out of the bath and up and down those stairs is a fucking nightmare. But he’s worth it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Milk came next, a splash each for him and me, half and half in the sippy cup. “Like, social services wanted to put him in a home, but that’s not happening.”
My mind spooled back. “How do you get him up and down the stairs?”
“I carry him,” he answered simply. “In my arms, like this.” He made a cradling motion. “The gaffer of the betting shop below lets me stash his other wheelchair in their back office, so I don’t have to drag that down too. That would be an even bigger fucking nightmare.” He handed me my tea. “I’d like to get out more, really; Mikey loves the park, loves animals too, like dogs and sheep and cows and stuff, but the buses aren’t exactly reliable.” He shrugged. “We’re cool. We’re happy apart from, you know…” Sharp frown lines briefly creased his smooth forehead.
“Apart from what?”
He grabbed a packet of biscuits and handed them to me with a knowing wink. Lidl’s luxury custard creams. “You know, the… um… shoplifting.”
CHAPTER 5
Dawson lavished love on his twin as if love was a bottomless well. But so casually too, as though the way he teased him, cuddled him, and so devotedly fed and watered him, was nothing exceptional when in fact, it was spectacular. And in return, his brother’s hazy gaze tracked his every move. His limbs jerked excitedly, and he gurgled with pleasure at Dawson’s every softly spoken word. I felt both privileged and a voyeur.
And yet.
Questions flocked like seagulls. The regular shoplifting, the multiple arrests and Dawson’s studied nonchalance in the face of them. Mikey’s total dependence on his adoring twin with no clear fall-back plan. Their future. And although it was way too early to dream, whether that future had me in it. Whether Dawson wanted me in it. Because while I was tumbling head over heels for him, God knew I was no catch.
“I liked what we did earlier,” he said softly. Determined to be of assistance, I’d helped him manoeuvre Mikey into a reclining beanbag chair covered in a luxurious sheepskin, which Dawson explained reduced the risk of pressure sores before proudly informing me Mikey had never suffered from a single one. He’d done some stretching exercises with him then, a daily routine,to ease the stiffness in Mikey’s spastic limbs. Now, surrounded by cuddly toys, Mikey was sleeping peacefully, and Dawson was snuggled up next to me on the sofa, having insisted I stay a while. I didn’t take much persuading. His fingers, which had been tripping lightly up and down my thigh, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your face is beautiful when you come, by the way.”
I blushed fiercely, even as my dick stirred and even as I knew it to be a lie. “That’s um… very kind.”
He yawned. “No, it’s not, it’s the truth. But I’m happy to double-check, just to be sure.”
He cupped his palm over my groin, grinning at my involuntary little grunt of pleasure. “You make cute sounds, too.”
Dawson’s lips parted readily as I kissed him. With a hand against his chest, I pushed him back against the cushions. His mouth found mine again as he pulled me on top. “I reckon you’re just a big humbug yourself, Gussie. Hard and crunchy on the outside, with a soft gooey centre.”
I laughed; I’d lost count of how many times I’d laughed today. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re…um…very pretty when you come, too.”
“I know.” He threw me a devilish smirk. “And by the way, I’m loving our second date. Are we going steady now?”
“I’ve never gone steady with anyone,” I admitted. My sex life had been a series of disastrous one-night stands in darkened rooms. Once their immediate needs had been fulfilled, my partners hadn’t been able to escape quick enough and not always with good grace.
