“So, you still want to go to the same address?”
I consider my options. Wherever I go, I have a feeling that he’s going to follow. And really, by not going home, I’m only putting off the inevitable.
“Yeah,” I say sadly, once again resting my head back and closing my eyes. I need more fucking sleep.
I think back to what I remember from last night. I recall him turning me down, but how did he end up in my bed when he quite adamantly didn’t want me?
The movement of the car eventually sends me to sleep, and it’s not until the driver speaks that I wake up. My head is groggy from my impromptu nap and the lingering vodka in my system, but the second I look up at the dark and dingy building I live in, everything hits me once again.
“Thank you,” I say, pushing the door open right as a rumbling engine pulls up alongside us.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself.
“What the hell is this place?” he asks the second he pulls his helmet off.
We’re in one of the shittiest areas of London, one that I’d likely say he’s not visited before, if the look on his face right now is anything to go by.
“This is my house.” I refrain from calling it my home, because it’s the biggest shithole ever and doesn’t deserve that label.
“Here? You live here?” We both turn when the door slams and we watch some junkie stumble down the steps and sway his way down the street.
Concern laces through Spike’s eyes when he turns back to me. I fucking hate it.
Pushing past him, I head for the front door to let myself in—and hopefully shut him out.
“This isn’t a house, Kas. It’s a fucking crack den.”
“It’s not, actually,” I bark over my shoulder. “It’s a house share. Now, have you finished stalking me?”
“I’m not fucking leaving you here,” he says, following me. His face is hard and the muscles in his shoulders are pulled tight as he takes in the rubbish, bottles, and other questionable paraphernalia littering the steps I’m standing on.
“You fucking well are.” I spin at him and place my hands on my hips.
“Does Zach know?”
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. There’s no point lying—he’ll only go to my brother and ask.
“We haven’t spent all that much time together yet,” I mutter. It’s the truth. Since I discovered he was my brother and plucked up the courage to speak to him, we’ve both been pretty busy. Plus, I’ll do anything I can to keep him away from this place. I’d have happily kept Spike away from it too, if he hadn’t insisted on following me.
“He won’t allow you to live here.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m an adult who has my own mind, isn’t it?” I taunt.
“Tiny,” he warns.
“Stop fucking calling me that. And leave me the hell alone.”
Spinning on my heel, I rush into the house and go straight for the stairs.
The place stinks, and having spent the night in Spike’s clean flat makes that fact only more obvious.
As always, there are people everywhere. It’s meant to be a house share for a maximum of eight people, but most nights it feels like eighty instead.
I race up the stairs and toward the room I call mine, although in reality, it’s not just mine.
There are three makeshift beds in here, and all my stuff is in a couple of cases and a box. It’s a pretty shitty way to live, but it’s all I’ve ever known.
Mum dragged me from shithole to shithole and introduced me to all the down and outs that live in this city.
Thankfully, no one else is actually in the room right now, so I drop my backpack on my bed and start rummaging for some clean clothes, hoping the bathroom is empty and in some kind of working order.
The creak of footsteps sounds out from behind me and my spine straightens. Jet knows where I live.
Just a few more shifts, then I can get paid for the month and get him off my back. For now.
Only, when my visitor speaks, I realise I’m not in danger.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You can’t live here like this.”
When I glance over my shoulder, he looks furious. As his eyes flit around the small room, they’re filled with disbelief.
“It’s done me okay for most of my life.”
He opens his mouth to respond but clearly doesn’t have any words because he just closes it again.
“Do you mind? I need to have a shower and get ready for work.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Then it looks like you’re moving in as well. Good thing about that is that no one will notice.” I roll my eyes, going back to my bag to find some clean underwear. I really need to get my arse to the launderette.
A growl is emitted from behind me before large hands wrap around my waist and I’m moving.
“Do you fucking mind? Arsehole.”
“No, I really fucking don’t.”
I watch as he bends down where I just was and starts shoving all the haphazardly strewn clothes inside before zipping it up.
“What else is yours?”
I stare at him as he picks up the two cases before flicking my eyes to the box beside them.
“That too?”
For fuck’s sake. I chastise myself for not staying strong.
“You can’t force me away from this place. I live here. I pay rent here.”
“Well, then I’m about to save you some money.”
“Uh—”
“Tiny, either follow me, or I’ll carry you out like all your shit.”
“It’s not shit. It’s my life.”
He looks down at the pathetic number of possessions I own, and a sadness I don’t need to see washes across his face.
Looking away, my eyes land on my best friend’s bed beside mine. Jodie and I have been friends for years. I can’t just up and leave her.
“Let’s go, Tiny.”
“No.” I stand firm with my hands on my hips, but I know it’s a battle that I’m not
