Page 47 of Into These Eyes
Which brings me right back to Dad. Although he hadn’t been home for a while, the fact that he’ll never, ever return hits me like a tonne of bricks. As a band of tension squeezes around my head, I can’t grasp onto one single thought or emotion to explain how I feel about his death. All that alcohol last night solved nothing. Even now, it’s too much, too hard.
While I try to focus on the TV, my mind drifts, playing a memory featuring a certain man making breakfast in my kitchen like he belonged there. The thought warms me up inside, makes me feel like someone really cares. About me.
A harsh scoff scorches my throat. I shouldn’t go there. What’s the point of wishing I had someone who cares enough so, for once in my life, I don’t have to shoulder every responsibility all on my own?
There is no point. Because I’m just fine alone.
Or is that a lie I tell myself is true?
Chapter 18
Gavin
Returning to the tin-can I hate referring to ashome, I plug my battery-depleted phone into the charger, grab a glass of water and down it in one hit. After I stare through the grimy window at the depressing caravans beyond, I turn and taking in the space I’ve been assigned.
Last night, for the first time since my incarceration, I entered a real home.
Unfortunately, it’d been like a fucking dream I never wanted to wake from. Along with the welcoming atmosphere of Jamie’s house, the amount of space alone was goddamn paradise. Not to mention that blissfully cool, thin air. While she rested, I snuck a peek at her backyard and that sparkling jade swimming pool. Staring out there, the vague memory of the freedom to open a door and step outside without having to be on alert, tightened my chest.
Fucking heaven, all of it.
But more than all those material things, I relished being there for Jamie. Caring for and doting on her because she needed me, tugged at my heart, proving that’s what I’m made for. To care for others. I’ve spent far too long worrying about myself. I’m over it.
Having her sit at the breakfast bar while I cooked and talked to her … Well, to me, that’s something special I want a hell of a lot more of.
She’s promised to give me my life back, the idea of a real future. One with meaning. Christ, I want that so badly it hurts in a place deep inside, a place I’m scared to let see the light. As wonderful as hope is, I know all too well how it can also devastate when it crashes and burns.
But it’s damn hard to tamp it down when the idea of a life worth living has been dangled in front of my face.
And even though I try not to think about wanting that life to include Jamie Evans, it’s impossible. A stupid fantasy. It’s just … being around her, looking into her eyes again after all this time, makes me want more than simply a career and a home.
Spending time with her to secure my future as an innocent man will be torture, but worth every punishing second.
A couple of sharp raps on the side of the caravan jolt me out of my head. The moment I swing the door open, Benny barrels inside.
Over the couple of weeks since his release, we’ve spent most afternoons together. Although I’ve grown accustomed to being alone, Benny’s struggling. I’d lived with him twenty hours a day for fifteen years. He’s had forty years of never being alone. When I was released, it’d felt like I’d lost a goddamn limb without his constant presence. I know he feels the same. I also know only time helps reduce that loss. So, I’m trying to ease him into it without making it too obvious.
The same way I’ve continually delayed the little plan he cooked up in prison.
“Where the hell’ve ya been?” he grumbles as he flicks on the kettle, then slides onto the bench seat at the table like he’s right at home. I suppose he is. His tin-can’s identical to mine. “Well?”
Grinning, I lean against the kitchen counter. “You won’t believe me. Have a guess.”
“Fuckin’ Mars?”
“It’s far more unbelievable than that.”
He narrows his eyes and shrugs. “Can’t play stupid guessin’ games without me coffee.”
Beside me, the kettle clicks off as it boils. I grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard and unscrew the cap off the instant coffee. “You know you can make your own, right?”
“Pfff. Course I fuckin’ know that. Bloody milk’s off. Came over ta get some of yours once I knew ya’d be back from work, and since ya were nowhere to be found, I’m havin’ withdrawal symptoms.”
Work.Fuck!
So consumed with Jamie, my shitty job hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d missed a whole fucking shift, and I hadn’t called in. I stare at my phone on the charger, dreading turning the damn thing on. I’m actually surprised my Community Corrections officer isn’t banging my door down.
I add a sugar to my coffee and three to Benny’s, top his off with milk, and place it in front of him before I take a seat. I’ll deal with my failure to turn up at work later.
