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Addie stood up. She felt tired—more than tired. She felt bruised by everything that had happened and too drained to fight for what Malachi clearly didn’t even want to discuss. But she wasn’t about to leave him alone. Slowly, she walked across the cabin.
‘Where are you going?’
His words stopped her in her tracks. Hearing the strain in his voice, she stared at him uncertainly. ‘I was going to get some water.’ She hesitated. ‘Would you like some? Or I could get you something stronger.’
‘Something stronger.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So I can drown my sorrows?’
His voice was soft but she felt it slice through her like a knife.
‘Maybe. Or we could talk—’
He shook his head. ‘You think talking can change this.’
His face was pale, the skin stretched taut over his cheekbones as he laughed—only it didn’t sound like a laugh. There was too much pain and anger there. And fear. But five weeks in a hospital bed had taught her to face fear; to resist anger, to overcome pain. And, lifting her chin, she nodded.
‘Yes. I do. But you don’t want to. You’d rather sit there and wallow—’
‘You know nothing about my life,’ he snarled.
Her pulse was pounding in her throat. Clenching her teeth, she glared at him. ‘Yes, I do. I know you jumped into a pool of sharks for a bet; I know you eat apples in the bath.’ Her gaze shifted from his face to his hand. ‘And I know you play cards when you feel tense or angry.’
He looked up at her silently and resentment surged through her. He was impossible and this was hopeless.
She turned to walk away.
‘Addie.’
Looking down, she saw he was touching her wrist, his fingers trembling against her skin.
‘Don’t go. Please.’
She stood, staring past him. ‘Why should I stay?’
He breathed out unsteadily. ‘You said you’d be there for me.’
She didn’t reply at first and then finally, after what felt like the longest moment, she sighed and sat down on the sofa.
He held out the deck of cards, his face strained, uncertain. ‘What would you like to play?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I can. My brain doesn’t seem to be working.’
Nodding slowly, he half smiled. ‘My parents have that effect on people.’
He let out a long, slow breath and his smile faded. She waited.
Finally, hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand, his face filled with angry bewilderment. ‘I find it hard.’
The words sounded as if they were being dragged from him.
Her chest squeezed tight. ‘What do you find hard?’
‘Choosing not to be like them.’ He ran a hand wearily over his face. ‘For years I had no choice. Even when I was little they’d drag me to parties and nightclubs.’ He paused and gave her another taut smile. ‘They didn’t see why having me around should stop them doing what they wanted. And if I was difficult, then they’d just leave me behind.’
‘Where?’ Addie felt her heart thump painfully hard.
He shrugged. ‘With their friends. And by “friends” I mean the people who found it hardest to say no to them.’ Glancing up, he caught sight of her face and his mouth twisted. ‘I don’t know what was worse. Worrying that they would never come back or knowing they would.’
She stared at him, feeling his pain, the fear of a little boy abandoned by his so-called parents, his dread of their return. ‘Why didn’t they get a nanny?’
