Unforgotten Page 3

  Billy chewed on his lip, and an overwhelming urge to stop him swept over me.

  My hands itched. I shoved them in my pockets and feigned indifference with a shrug. “Don’t worry if you’re not up for it. I can leave you in peace.”

  Still nothing. A wariness I couldn’t decipher marred Billy’s sharp features, and I suddenly felt bad for suggesting something so simple. And for assuming he’d want to touch base with me. Perhaps he’d been banking on us avoiding each other, but if Luke’s plan for his employment panned out, unfortunately for Billy, he was stuck with me in more ways than one.

  The heavy silence stretched out. I started to back up.

  Billy caught my wrist. “Um. Wait. Sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to, just not sure if I fancy braving Rushmere’s finest drinking crowds yet. It’s been a while, you know?”

  “I know.” I considered his words and wondered what could be so daunting about a quick drink in the pub. Then I remembered Billy had lived a different life in this town to the rest of us. Not content to bumble along, he’d run with the dregs, constantly in trouble with the police and banned from the high street, rarely without fight-won cuts and bruises to his knuckles. It was highly likely there were faces he didn’t want to see...if he was serious about staying out of trouble.

  And it was a big if. I didn’t know much about Billy anymore, but I knew that.

  I also knew that he was still gripping my wrist hard enough to leave a bruise, and that I liked it enough for my blood to run hot.

  With more effort than I wanted to contemplate, I reclaimed my arm.

  Billy blinked, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it.

  I chanced a soft fist to his bicep. “Okay. I’m gonna phone it in and go pick it up. That way neither of us has to cook—which you’ll be grateful for after I’ve run through my repertoire of pretty average omelettes—and we can bypass the pub completely.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Actually, I do. I promised Luke I wouldn’t leave you alone on your first night, I’m starving, and I hate eating alone, so—”

  “He asked you to babysit me?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t in the business of diplomacy. Years of my sister’s quick temper had taught me that it got me nowhere as fast as brutal honesty. “Guess he figured you were less likely to punch me than you are him.”

  “I didn’t come here to punch anybody, and you don’t have to supervise me. I’m not going to nick anything.”

  “Don’t care if you do. Nothing here will get you very far.”

  Billy leant on the doorframe, his smirk returning. “You actually think I will, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying. I know you’re a born thief, Daley, but you once told me you only stole from people you didn’t like, and I’m hoping we don’t know each other well enough to be there just yet.”

  “You have a good memory. I don’t remember ever telling you anything.”

  Maybe because we hadn’t done much talking the last time we’d been this close, but I didn’t have the balls to bring it up. If my presence was affecting him anywhere near as much as his was me, he was doing a Herculean job of hiding it.

  Me? I had to get away before my heart beat out of my chest and hit him in the face.

  Idiot. But that was nothing new. My sister was the tough one. Of the two of us, I was the sensitive soul.

  I mumbled a goodbye and left him in the doorway. Taking the stairs two at a time, I was in the van before I knew it, jamming the keys into the ignition with shaky hands. It’s not him. I’m just hungry.

  Yeah right. I’d had three sandwiches for lunch and a bag of chips as an afternoon snack. I’d suggested dinner as it was painfully obvious, despite Billy’s unearthly beauty, that he hadn’t had a decent meal in months. Sunken eyes, pale skin—that boy was tired and undernourished, two things I could rectify without making an idiot out of myself.

  I drove into town and ordered two extra large pizzas, a salad, and some sweet potato fries, just to be safe. While it was cooking, I raided the bakery next door and bought a French-ish apple tart that looked almost as good as Mia’s.

  It didn’t take as long as I needed it to, and I got back in the van as keyed up as when I’d left the house.

  My house.

  With Billy Daley inside it.

  Man, it had been a strange twenty-four hours. I took the scenic route home, wishing Billy’s mother was still around so I could borrow her dog and take him for a nice long walk, but she’d taken the dog with her and left Billy behind.

  In my house.

  I swung the van onto the drive and let myself in. It was still quiet and dark. Assuming Billy was upstairs, I switched the kitchen light on and jumped a mile. “Putain! Dude. What are you sitting in the dark for?”

  Billy rose from the kitchen floor, his cat draped majestically around his neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare the French out of you.”

  “You didn’t scare me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  Billy shrugged, and the shadows made his shoulders seem even slimmer. “Habit. Didn’t have electric at my old place.”

  “You had no electricity in your house?”

  “It wasn’t a house.”

  I searched my brain for anything Luke might’ve mentioned about where Billy had been living the past few months, but of course there was nothing, because Luke never said anything about anything unless I asked him a direct question. “Fair enough. I got the food. You want a beer?”

  “If you’ve got one.”

  I had more than one. Mia had done a run across the Channel to stock up on the essentials we couldn’t be without, and my fridge was loaded with stubby brown bottles of my mother’s favourite lager. I retrieved two, opened them, and handed one to Billy. “Chin chin.”

  “That what they say in France?”

  “Nope.”

  He snorted and took a swig, downing half the small bottle in one long swallow. I watched his throat work for a moment, then busied myself setting dinner out on the counter. Billy’s eyes widened. He set his beer down. “That’s a lot of food.”

  “Not really. You’d better eat fast if you want to eat at all. I grew up with Mia, and old habits die hard.”

  “I’ve never had dinner with your sister, and my mum is a terrible cook, so we ate slow in our house.”

  And since then? Because Billy hadn’t lived with his mother in years.

  My inner monologue was repetitive enough to annoy me. I made a silent vow to stop fixating on how long Billy had been gone and focus on the present. I pointed at a kitchen stool. “Whatever. I’ll try and contain myself enough that you don’t starve.”

  But it turned out not to matter. Billy, apparently, ate like a bird, and as greedy as I was, I couldn’t eat two whole pizzas to myself, though I’m not gonna lie, I did my best.

  When I was done, I stashed the leftovers in the fridge and returned to where Billy was picking at his second slice.

  I put more salad on his plate and a few extra sweet potatoes.

  He rubbed his stomach and shook his head. “I’m done.”

  “Go on, they’re only little.”

  “Are you a feeder?”

  “Dunno. Never tried, but you’re skinny as hell, man. Humour me and eat up.”

  I retreated to the fridge for more beer before he could react. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw the Grindr app flashing. On a normal night, that would be my cue to grab a shower and abandon my empty house for the night. Despite my promise to Luke, I tapped on it. A bunch of messages flashed up, the good, the bad, and the downright disturbing. I deleted most, and lingered over a profile I’d been edging to hook
up with for a few weeks now, a closeted mechanic who lived far enough away that I wouldn’t catch any blowback if he got caught. I cruised for distraction, not drama.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Hmm?” I glanced up to find Billy watching me, elbows bracing his plate. “Oh. No. Not on Grindr. That’s not my vibe.”

  “What is your vibe? Dirty old men and dick pics?”

  I laughed. “You sound like someone who’s had a bad time on hook-up apps.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah. Why else the assumption they’re all filthy OAPs and dick pics?”

  Billy shrugged, and for a moment looked so boyish I forgot he was the same age as me. “I don’t get why you’d want to exchange, like, two messages with someone, then go and bang them. Freaks me out just thinking about it.”

  He legitimately shuddered, and I wondered if he was lying. If he’d had a bad experience after all. I shut the app and dropped my phone on the counter. “Then don’t think about it. If you’re not doing it, it’s not your concern.”

  My tone was mild, but I meant it. I got enough grief about my sex life from my sister, I didn’t need it from someone I was in forced proximity with for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t deny I was getting antsy, though, even with Billy for sullen company. I wasn’t good at staying home. Too often, the walls closed in on me, and I wound up in a stranger’s bed just for something to do. A hot body and a faceless fuck did wonders for a loud mind. I pictured the last hook-up I’d had. It had been a few days, but the older dude with silver hair and elegant hands had been hot enough that I’d figured our encounter would keep me occupied for the downtime I planned to help Billy settle in. But as hard as I tried, the memories wouldn’t come. My heart stayed flat, and I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter.

  A cool hand stilled me. For the second time in as many hours, I blinked to find Billy holding my wrist and scrutinising me like an alien in a jar.

  His frown got under my skin. His touch?

  It set me on fire.

  Unsettled, I twisted free, and instantly regretted it. My whole arm felt adrift, like he’d punched me instead. “Uh. Sorry. Did I space on you? It’s been a day.”

  Billy stepped away, his face smoothing out. “A bit. I reckon you’d rather be somewhere else.” He jerked his head at my phone. “Don’t let me cramp your style, I’ll stay in my room.”

  He backed up until he was at the kitchen door, then he scooped his cat from the floor and disappeared, leaving me alone with empty pizza boxes, a buzzing phone, and no intention of going anywhere.

  Chapter Four

  Billy

  I was shit at sleeping, but somehow, curling up in a bed that smelt of my brother’s girlfriend put me in a coma. It was ten o’clock the next morning when I woke from childhood dreams. Dazed, I sat up. Sunlight streamed through the curtains I’d forgotten to close and revealed Grey at the foot of the bed, stretched out like he owned the place.

  He was happy.

  Relief spread through me, despite my disquiet at facing up to a new day in an old town. The night before, distracting myself from wondering what Gus was up to on Grindr had led to me fretting about Grey’s wellbeing. He’d been semi-feral at the yard. What if he didn’t want to live in middle-class suburbia any more than I did? Would he run away? Or die of unhappiness? I’d done the first myself too many times to count. The threat of the latter was my constant companion, and I wouldn’t have wished it on anyone, let alone that beautiful cat.

  I tickled his chin until he swiped at me to go away. Taking my cue, I rolled out of bed and found the clothes I’d put on yesterday after the best shower I’d ever had. Seriously. Gus had two shower heads, one that detached from the bracket, and another that came from the ceiling like raindrops. I’d stood beneath it for ages, and legit never felt so clean. Shame my scuzzy jeans and vest combo grunged me up the instant I put them on.

  Mia’s old room was green and pink, like a posh bar of soap. My battered bag was out of place. I tucked it under the bed and drifted downstairs, leaving the door open for Grey to find his way down when he was ready.

  I already knew Gus wasn’t home. Felt it. His kitchen was exactly as I’d left it last night: pizza boxes and beer bottles on the counter. I tidied them away like a good houseguest and tried not to wonder if he’d abandoned the detritus of our dinner for a fuck-hot Grindr hook-up. I hadn’t heard him go out, or anyone come in, but then, I’d hidden under my pillow with my earbuds jammed in my ears to avoid just that, so...yeah. Maybe it had worked.

  Back in the house, I put food out for Grey and changed the soil in his litter tray. Hunger licked at my insides, but I wasn’t about to raid Gus’s fridge. At some point, I’d have to take the money Luke had forced on me and brave the shops, but not today. Fuck it, I’d starve. Or find a delivery app that wouldn’t bankrupt me.

  And Wi-Fi.

  Boredom led to me roaming Gus’s house and trying not to nose around his stuff. Luke called, twice. I ignored him. It was only a matter of time before he showed up to give me agro, but I needed food before I faced him. My staple diet of packet noodles and buttered white bread taunted me. Cheap, shit, and so, so good. I opened Gus’s fridge a dozen times. Shut it without looking inside.

  I drank water and paced the living room. It was a bachelor’s dream—huge TV, games consoles, and a vinyl turntable. The records were stored in a vintage cabinet loaded with photos of Gus and Mia’s mother on their bimonthly trips to France. I picked them up, one by one, fascinated, as I’d always been, by the contrast between Gus and Mia. She was as fair as he was dark, and to anyone who didn’t know her, delicate. Gus was brawny and strong, with hands a stranger would know were capable. I felt safe looking at him as he’d been when he was twelve years old. Now? Fuck. I didn’t have the headspace to unpick my years-old crush on him.

  The front door opened. Startled, I put down the frame I was clutching and spun around.

  Gus was already behind me, holding a paper bag. He was dressed in well-worn utility trousers, work boots, and a sweatshirt that had my fucking name sewn into it—well, half of it, anyway. Dammit, I’d forgotten he was Luke’s right-hand man at the family roofing company.

  “I brought you some lunch,” Gus offered when I failed to speak.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re as rude as my sister, so I figured you probably eat like her too.”

  I rolled my eyes, but my grumbling stomach gave me away.

  Gus laughed. “And am I right in assuming that you’re still not going to take the roast beef doorstop I got you from Cassie’s? That I’m gonna have to force it into your hand?”

  “Shut up.” I snatched the bag from him and dug into my pocket for the roll of notes Luke really had forced on me. I peeled off a fiver and flicked it in Gus’s general direction. He dodged it and let it flutter to the floor. I was a pugnacious bastard and would’ve fought him for longer, but I was hungry, so I walked away and took my sandwich to the kitchen.

  It had been a while since I’d last pretended to be a civilised human being. I searched Gus’s cupboards for a plate. Found one and dumped the gigantic sandwich he’d brought me onto it. Roast beef, hot mustard, salad, and mayo. It was literally the best thing I’d ever seen. I ate in greedy bites, unaware that he’d followed me until he chuckled.

  I wiped my mouth. “Why are you watching me eat?”

  “It’s cute.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Gus’s grin widened a touch. “Nope. My house. I can watch you eat if I want.”

  I tried to be annoyed, but for the first time in my life, irritation wasn’t instinctive. Didn’t shoot through my nerves and sharpen my tongue. I didn’t mind him watching me. In fact, I liked it, though I couldn’t say why, and I was full way before I’d figured it out. I pushed the plate away with two thirds of the sandwich left. “Um. Thank you. I could’ve made some toast or something.
You didn’t have to come all the way home.”

  “Actually, you couldn’t have made anything. I ate the leftover pizza for breakfast, and the fridge is bare. And it was no sweat coming home. We’re working up the road all week.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, me and your long-lost bro. He could do with a holiday, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Gus filled the kettle and put it on to boil. “Why not? He hasn’t had a day off since he went back after that car ran him down, and that was like, a year ago.”

  It had been eleven months. I knew it, because I’d attended the trial of the mentally ill stalker who’d terrorised Mia to the point of trying to kill my brother. It was the only decent thing I’d ever done for Luke, and it haunted me to the point where I wished I hadn’t done it. Brother of year, ain’t I?

  Not in this lifetime. Luke, on the other hand, was a miserable git who’d sacrificed his whole life so I wouldn’t fuck mine up, and I’d fucked it up anyway.

  “Hey.” Gus was beside me. Somehow I’d missed his large frame crossing the kitchen. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that he works too hard and doesn’t listen to me when I tell him to take time off. I was thinking maybe you could tell him too...or make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  “You want me to proposition my own brother? Told you Grindr was messed-up.”

  Another Gus laugh warmed the kitchen. “I was thinking more ask him to spend some time with you. Do some stuff together. It’s been a while, right?”

  It had been longer than that. The closest we’d come to an extended period of time together had been when Luke had visited me in the hospital after I’d smashed my shoulder. I’d been high as hell and told him to go fuck himself. He’d stayed a little while anyway. After that, we’d talked on the phone, frequently during the trial, but it had died off when we’d run out of shit to say about other people, and never come back. I was dreading him checking up on me, let alone what I’d do if he morphed into someone else and wanted to spend actual time with me.