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Blowing out a long breath, I reach into the bag of clothes and pull out a white t-shirt and snap the tag off.
The second we had her in the van, my only focus was getting out of town, and there was no way I was hanging around long enough to pack a fucking bag for myself.
We got the necessities and then hightailed it away from danger as fast as we could, stopping on the edge of the city to switch the plates out and cut their ability to track us.
No fucker was going to follow us here. And no Italian cunt was going to get their hands on my girl.
Movement at the other end of the hall catches my attention, and I get to the door just in time to see her slip back outside with her iPad in hand and, sadly, now wearing a top.
My lips part to say something, but I decide against it.
I told her I trust her, and if she’s about to go and call Stella or Emmie, then I need to follow through on my words.
Calli isn’t stupid. Far from it. She knows the seriousness of this situation, and I have to believe that she’d rather be here with me than at home, constantly looking over her shoulder.
I make my way to the kitchen and pull the fridge open, assessing my options.
Cracking a can of Coke, I mentally run through the dishes I’d planned when I bought all this food and make a decision.
I learned to cook in this kitchen. I spent hours with my grandmother while Alex was out in the ocean, trying to surf and other random shit with our granddad.
Our mum’s parents might have been the most incredible grandparents any kid could wish for, but that didn’t stop me second-guessing my granddad at every step. I was so used to the sick and twisted motherfucker who had a hand in making our father that I was dubious of his intentions. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help the inkling of fear that trickled through me whenever he was nice.
I wish it was different. I wish I’d made an effort to push through my fear, because I know I missed out. I’d listen to him and Alex talk about what they’d done, the things they’d discovered on their explorations of the bay and the huge rock pools beyond with huge smiles on their faces and wish things were different.
But they weren’t, and I was a pussy who was happier in the kitchen with Gran, cooking up a storm for when they got back.
It was the kind of mindless activity I needed while I was out of town and away from the judgement and torture of those we’d left behind. Here, I could almost rediscover the kid I should have been. The one hiding behind his weaknesses, his scars, his fear. But not quite.
I lose myself in the food prep, falling back into old times as I find everything where it always used to be.
After they both died, Mum was going to sell this place. She probably should have. But I visited her not long after she left Dad, and I cracked when I found the paperwork sitting on the coffee table.
Without a word, she reached out and ripped the house details up in front of my eyes.
It’s probably the single most meaningful thing anyone has done in my life.
No one can understand just how much this place means to me, just how much solace it offers me.
It’s the only place where I could be the kid I deserved to be. It was a judgement-free zone where I could just be me. Gran didn’t care if I cooked in silence, if I let the demons I wanted to leave behind cause havoc within me. She didn’t care that most of the time I wanted to hide, to sit in a dark room in silence, and she didn’t tell me that I was wrong to sit up and watch the waves crash against the beach while the moon was high in the sky.
She just let me be me.
Just like Calli does…
I feel her the second she steps into the room. My skin prickles and my balls ache for her, despite only being inside her a few hours ago.
Fuck. It’s never going to be enough with her.
I don’t stop what I’m doing as I fill the chicken breasts before me with the cheese mixture I made and wrap them both in parma ham. It’s a dish I used to look forward to whenever we came to stay here. It didn’t take Gran long to notice just how quickly I demolished it, and she ensured she made it for me every time we stayed. Mum tried to replicate it at least once a week for me, but she never quite got it right. Or it might just have been the place that was wrong. Not having the sound of crashing waves or the scent of the sea in my nose ruined it.
I place them both onto a baking tray before turning back toward the potatoes that are sitting on the side, waiting for attention.
“Did you want something, Angel?” I ask, my voice soft and calm.
I don’t want to argue with her. I don’t want to piss her off, or risk her resenting being here with me. But I’m also aware that we’ve got differing opinions on things, and I’m sure they’re going to bite us both in the arse more than once during our time here.
“Um…” She hesitates and I smirk, shooting a look over my shoulder and finding her staring at me as if she’s about to jump me. “You put a shirt on.”
