Billy made a noise low in his throat as if he knew the prospect of me getting myself together was a million miles away. He turned on his heel, stomped downstairs, and slammed the front door. I half expected him to get in the van and sulk until I was done. I peeked through the landing window, hoping for a miracle, but he was already walking away.
I watched him disappear around the corner, my pulse stuttering with every step he took away from me. Fingernails scraped my heart, and my chest literally ached for him. What the hell was I doing? We couldn’t be lovers, we’d proved that already, but this was killing me, and I knew him well enough to know his blank stare was hiding a riot.
Billy was angry, and hurt, and more than that, he was lonely. Before we’d set a grenade beneath us, I’d been the only soul he’d talk to for days. Now I’d taken it away from him because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.
He’s got Luke, though. That’s the point. He doesn’t need you. But my heart called bullshit, and for the umpteenth time that day, I felt like I could puke. Head spinning, I lowered myself out of the loft hatch and crouched on the exposed floorboards, sucking in deep breaths that went nowhere. I reached out to steady myself but somehow missed the floor, and I fell forward, cracking my head on the banister.
Super. Anything else you wanna throw at me? There was no reply from whatever monster inside me was trying to ruin my day for good. I pulled myself together and slumped against the banister, rubbing the sore spot on my temple. It hurt more than it should’ve done, and blinding pain took root behind my eyes.
I took another deep breath and resigned myself to the fact that I was probably done working for the day, and tried to recall how long ago Billy had left. The buses round here were sporadic at best. There was every chance he hadn’t gone anywhere yet...if I was thinking of the right place. All at once, I could barely remember where I was.
With fumbling hands, I fished my phone from my pocket and tapped at the screen. Nothing happened. Either my phone was dead, or I could no longer feel my hands.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Billy
I hated that fucking cottage. Every day, I felt sick just looking at it, and even with Gus hardly talking to me, I couldn’t wait to get in the van and leave.
Taking the bus home was a trip. At least, it would’ve been if the damn thing showed up.
Newsflash: it didn’t, and I contemplated returning to Gus for all of three seconds before I figured walking a mile to the next village would be more fun.
Second newsflash: it wasn’t. And the bus itself was even less of a party, just me and an old guy singing Lionel Richie songs to himself, while the bus called at every obscure stop known to man. It would’ve been quicker to walk, but I was committed and too stubborn to get off and lose the pocket change I’d paid for my lonely seat at the back.
So I stayed on the bus and stewed over the week from hell I’d just lived through. If you could call creeping through life in total silence living. Maybe it would’ve been easier if Gus had seemed happy about it, but he was so far from happy I had an anxiety attack every time I looked at him, and the worst bit about it was I knew it was all my fault. He’d told me a hundred years ago that the two of us together would be too complicated to ever work, and it turned out he was right, even if his idea of a complication was easily fixed by me calling my brother to apologise. Or at least fixing his gate.
But I’d already fixed the gate and promised Luke I’d meet him later. He knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d promised him, and finally we were in a place where he believed me. It was only Gus I couldn’t reach.
The bus dropped me at the wrong end of Rushmere. I walked home past Mia’s florist shop, and the insurance offices Barry Keane owned. He was in the window and spotted me as I crossed the road. He scowled and turned away, but his glare held nowhere near enough fire for a man who’d lost his dog and believed me responsible. I imagined all the horrible things I’d do to him if our positions were reversed, if he’d taken Grey from me, and it kept me occupied the rest of the way back to Gus’s empty house.
Disappointment weighed me down as I let myself in. Somehow I’d convinced myself he’d have beaten me there. That he’d be waiting for me with the sunny grin I missed so much. But he wasn’t there, and Grey was too busy sleeping to give a shit that I needed some attention. He rolled over, flicking his tail, the cat equivalent of his middle finger.
I took the hint and retreated to the shower. Then I lingered on the landing, transfixed by Gus’s closed bedroom door. The sight of it moved me in ways I couldn’t begin to describe, and my stomach gave an uncomfortable flip. Gus wanted to talk when he got home, but what if that meant his door was closed forever? As in, he didn’t care if I left town or not, he wanted me gone from his house?
My heart couldn’t fathom those words ever leaving his mouth without the kindness that had made me fall so fucking hard for him, but the prospect of him letting me down gently scared me far more than
