Page 63 of Fool Me Twice
Zig gave a laugh that was almost a sob.“Fuck, yeah.I don’t wanna be,” he added in a whisper.
Si kissed him on the top of the head, tasting hair gel and getting a faint whiff of beer.“Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure we can handle it together.You wanna tell me what it is?”
“I...”Zig sniffed.“It might never happen.”
“Still.Problem shared, problem halved and all that bollocks.”
“Dunno what I did to deserve you,” Zig mumbled against Si’s chest.
“Must have been something pretty bad.”
“Fuck off.You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Warmth spread through Si.“Same here.”
He wasn’t prepared for Zig to slip out of his arms and stand, running his hand through his hair.“We oughtta turn in, yeah?You’ve got an early start in the morning.”
“We’ve got time to talk if you need to.You’ve hardly touched your beer.”His own hot chocolate was still sitting sadly in the mug, having lost all right to the first part of its name.
Zig didn’t turn to look at him.“Sorry.Not thirsty after all.Nah, I’m good.I just need to get my head round some stuff.Sort out what I need to do.It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Bugger it all to hell and back.Si took a deep breath.No point pushing.Zig clearly didn’t want to share whatever was worrying him.But it hurt being shut out like that.It was still early days, though.Si had to remember that.“Right, then.You coming to bed?”
There was a horrible pause.Then Zig said, “Course I am,” and Si could breathe again.
Zig stayed in bed long after Si had left for work.He’d slept badly, and several times considered leaving Si’s embrace for the cold comfort of the sofa, but somehow he hadn’t been able to.Too fucking selfish.Si had held him all through a restless night, not asking for anything more.
Zig wasn’t sure what had kept him awake the most: the worry about Dad and Trent tracking him down, or the guilt that had punched him in the gut when Si had blithely said,“Same here”—like Zig couldpossiblybe the best thing that’d ever happened to him.Worst thing, more like.They’d barely been back together a day and already the crap in Zig’s life was threatening to overwhelm them.
Maybe he should say something to Si?The reaction to that was swift and visceral.I’d rather chew off my own arm.He couldn’t bear the thought of ruining Si’s happiness.Christ, how could Zig evenhopeto make up for all the hurt he’d caused Si already?
All the hurt he might yet cause?
Sod it.He wasn’t gonna do it by moping in bed.And it might all be nothing.He had to remember that.Zig forced himself to get up, and checked his phone to see if Kai had answered his hurried text last night.
For fuck’s sake, his own message was still there, cursor blinking at him.Looked like he’d missed when he went to hit Send.Too busy trying to stop Si seeing the message:You ever worry your past’s going to catch up with you?
He deleted it, not feeling like sending it now, and then went looking for stuff that needed doing around the flat.He put on a load of laundry but failed to find anything in need of cleaning, Si clearly not believing in the stereotype of bloke-living-on-his-own slovenliness.The fridge was well stocked too.
Giving up, Zig grabbed his jacket and headed downstairs.Maybe a walk would clear his head.
Esme, dressed today in a smart navy trouser suit with a cropped jacket, caught him before he could set foot outside.“You’re looking a little peaky this morning.Too much bed, not enough sleep?”
“Something like that.”
Zig’s face must have given away more than his words, as she replied with, “Oh, dear.Tell you what, if you mind the shop for a minute, I’ll pop out and get us some coffees.”
He couldn’t have heard her right.“What?”
“You: shop.Me: coffees.Capisce?”She gave him a motherly smile that almost, but not quite, took away the sting of her patronising tone.“You work in a pub, so I’m assuming you know your way around a till.”
“Ain’t you worried I’ll nick something?”
Still smiling, Esme pointed to a sign hanging up behind the counter:Shoplifters will be cursed.
Zig had to laugh.Like he needed that on top of everything else.“Fine.But if the punters are put out that I don’t know shit about this stuff you sell, that’s on you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can spin them a line if you put your mind to it.”She marched out of the shop, nodding en route to a couple of twentysomethings who came in past her.
