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Yeah, but you loved him the wrong way.‘Why didn’t you leave?’ I ask.
Her mouth pinches at the corners, and she glances out the window again, watching a dog bounce on the end of its leash to eat the snowflakes. Just then the waitress places my teacakes on the table; as soon as she leaves, Georgia whispers, ‘I didn’t leave because I was scared of what he’d do had he caught me. At least what he did to me I could endure.’
I smooth butter onto my teacakes. ‘Didn’t you ever think of what it’d do to Archer? Raising him around violence?’
She takes a long sip of her disgusting beverage. ‘I’d hoped Ian would change once we had a child, but he didn’t. Archer gave me purpose: to love and protect, at all costs. If it wasn’t for him, I would have taken my own life.’
I swallow the lump in my throat. I want to accuse her of thinking only of herself, for putting Archer through shit for her own benefit, but some things are better left unsaid.
I eat my teacakes in silence, and I’m sipping my hot chocolate when she says, ‘Archie would be a great dad. The way he looked after his sisters…’ She trails off, and I know which of her daughters' she thinks of.
‘Just because someone’s a great dad doesn’t make them a great partner,’ I say before I can think.
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me with an expression of surprise.
Understanding.
And beneath that, terrify—terrify that I understand at all.
???
I hesitate at the foot of the stairwell.Jodie was held on remand and slapped with a two-year suspended sentence, and if she reaches out to me, I'm to contact the police right away. Thankfully, Archer has taken it upon himself to do our food shopping, so I haven’t been forced to confront her.
Suddenly I hear rain pelting the window and the flash of silver and my blood drums in my ears—
My fingers shake as I grab my phone. Archer picks up on the first ring. I saw his car outside, so I know he’s home, but—there’s male voices in the background, the clicking of controllers.
‘What?’ He doesn’t sound particularly thrilled I’ve interrupted him.
I feel stupid for calling him now when his mates are here. They’ll probably snicker at me and tell Archer he’s whipped again, but I can’t move. ‘Can you help me up the stairs?’ I ask.
‘Have you hurt your leg or something?’
‘I don’t want to see… Jodie.’
‘So take the lift.’
You know I can’t take the lift.‘Please, Arch—‘
‘I’m busy,’ he snaps. He adds a shade softer, ‘You’ll be fine.’ And he hangs up.
I take a shuddering breath, working through every instinct to just take my things and sit in the car until he comes down to get me, and grab the banister. My palm is already slick. I move slowly, ignoring the bite of the bag handles around my wrists, my eyes on each step I take. If I don’t look around, I won’t see her, and I’ll be fine.
But a pressure pushes against my back, and shadows press against my heels—and then I’m running, running, running. Up and up and up. I stumble and graze my shin on a step, but I barely feel it. My blood hums, and my bags bang into my legs, and she probably wouldn’t have even heard me walk past her apartment, but she certainly will now. I don’t look at her door as I dart past it, taking the stairs two at a time, and then I’m there, my hand trembling as I fit the key into the lock, and the door swings open—
I stagger into my apartment and lean against the door, slamming it closed. Four pairs of curious eyes turn to stare at me. But I don’t look at Isaac or Sean or Olly; Archer meets my gaze, and his expression darkens, but he says nothing as he glances back to the TV and resumes his game. Sean swears, unprepared for the unpause, and clicks his controller.
Isaac leaps up from the couch and races to help with my bags.
‘Thank you,’ I breathe, and it’s like the adrenaline of getting up those stairs deflates, and I sag against the door.
Isaac puts the bags onto the counter and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘You good?’ He’s stretched his ear a little more since the last time I saw him.
I look over his shoulder to find Archer watching us. He’s accused me on more than one occasion of hooking up with Isaac. He’s cute—like really, really cute. With his mop of black curls and band hoodies and dark jeans, and the tattoos on his throat that bob with every word, the ones on his hands stretching over his knuckles, and that pierced brow. But I can still appreciate someone’s good looks and not be attracted to them.
And the fact that Archer doesn’t understand that makes me worry abouthim.
I force a smile at Isaac and discreetly step out of his grip. ‘Yeah. All good.’
