Page 82 of East (The Moral Compass 3)

I need this time to lay some ground with East. I need to get to know her better. How did I not even think to ask her if she could drive? I’m such a bloke. I just got in the car and drove. That’s what husbands do, isn’t it? I haven’t got a fucking clue.

I also need this time to work out what she does and doesn’t like.

My mind is whirling when another call comes in from Drake. I decline the call again.

“Why don’t you want to talk to him?” she asks.

“He wants something.”

“How do you know?”

“He only calls when he wants something.” I keep my eyes on the road. I don’t want to see the judgement in her eyes. Everyone judges me where Drake is concerned. Either I’m the poor brother who he’s left behind while he’s gone on to have a fantastic career or I’m the selfish prick who doesn’t give a shit. Neither are true. And if I don’t see the judgement on her face, it isn’t happening.

“Well… I think he’s a total dick. I’m glad you didn’t answer. I bet he wants you to go back to Vegas for something.”

And with that, my heart beats a little stronger. She gets it. She sees what I see and what most people don’t. More importantly, she’s on my side.

I park the car, and while she’s getting her seat belt off, I rush round to her side and open her door.

“You don’t have to do that, you know? We’re not in the nineteen twenties. I am more than capable of opening a car door and getting out on my own.”

“I know, but I just thought I’d be a gentleman. I might not be a gentleman when we get upstairs, so make the most of it.” I take her hand and help her from the car. I can see the pain in her eyes. Maybe ravishing her tonight can wait.

We get into the suite, and I can see that she is really struggling with her arm.

“Why don’t you go and get ready for bed? I’ll make us some tea and toast. You’ve not eaten much all day.”

“I don’t eat a lot anyway. I usually just snack, and I know I shouldn’t, and West would kill me, but I adore junk food.”

“Seriously? With a body like yours, you eat that shit?”

“Yeah, well, I must have a high metabolism or something. I don’t actually like anything green, either.”

“Now I know you’re taking the piss.” I shake my head.

“No, honestly. I don’t eat anything green. It’s like toxic shit. I can just about stomach a spoonful of peas, but that’s it. Oh, and don’t get me started on cauliflower. That stuff makes my skin crawl.”

“Your serious, aren’t you?” I ask in shock. “How the hell have you survived so long with absolutely no nutrients?”

“Don’t know, but I have, and I don’t do too bad off it.”

“Really? So, you don’t think that you eating total crap has nothing to do with you falling over all the time?”

“No! The doctor said it was my blood pressure.”

I can feel my frustration rising, so I take a breath.

“Okay, well, this is not a conversation for tonight. We’ll talk about it tomorrow after we get your blood results. Come on, you look absolutely knackered. Go get into bed, and I’ll bring everything to you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m sure. Now, go.” I point to the corridor that leads to the bedroom. I make her some tea and toast, but when I take it into the bedroom, she’s fast asleep, all quiet and beautiful. I feel like I need to wake her up to get her to take her medication and to get her to eat something, but she looks so peaceful.

I get the tablets from the bathroom and put them by the bed. If she needs them during the night, at least she doesn’t need to go looking for them. Then, I quietly slide into the bed beside her. I lie there quietly just thinking of all the things that have made me laugh over the last few weeks, and every one of them has East as the star of the show. I’m not known for my sense of humour, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. I don’t really like people in general, so I tend to avoid them as much as I can. People annoy me. They want to tell you what to do, how to think, and what to say, but I can’t be arsed with any of that. I just like being me. Which is why me sharing a bed with East—not for sex and with me not trying to get rid of her—is a bit weird. But I like it. A lot.

I think I’m dreaming when a leg crosses over my body. Then, I know I’m not when her arm smashes down on my chest. The arm with the cast on. Shit, that thing is heavy. No wonder she’s tired after carrying that around all day.

Sleep takes over, and when my phone vibrates so much it falls off the bedside cabinet, I realise it’s well past my normal rising time.

---