Bait

She holds out her arm. “He grabbed me. Hard. I had to hit him with the ashtray.” She points to the tray at her side. Chipped. I bet that fucking hurt.

“May have knocked some sense into him, you never know.”

“We can hope.” She sighs. “I think it’ll bruise. I’ll give a statement to the police if it’ll help keep him away from Cam.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve changed your tune. What really went down here?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, trust me.”

I do trust her, but not about this. Not about Jake.

She stares at me. “I mean it, Leo. Nothing. He barged in, spouted a load of shit, said he was going upstairs to see Cam and I told him I’d call the police if he did. I went for the phone, he grabbed me, I hit him with an ashtray.”

“And then he left?”

“And then I called you and he went really ballistic. Charged upstairs before I could stop him.” She’s aged so much this past year, my sister. I notice fine lines around her eyes as she looks away. “I thought he was heading for Cam’s room, but it was shut when I followed him. I stood outside to guard his door and I called you three or four times straight.” She quirks her brow. “Guess you were busy, hey?”

“Talking,” I say. “We were talking.”

“Yeah, and the rest.”

I change the subject. “If you were outside Cameron’s door and Jake was upstairs, what the hell was he doing?”

She shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. You probably want to check your stuff, make sure nothing is missing.”

“He was in my room?”

“You know how fucked up he is. Mariana’s room.”

I could strangle the sonofabitch quite happily. Choke his drunken throat for all his bleating on.

“You’re sure he’s definitely gone now?”

Serena nods. “Drove back toward Malvern. I’d hear his truck a mile off.”

I kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. It won’t happen again.”

She laughs. “What? You planning never to see her again? I don’t think so, Leo.”

“No. I’m planning never to leave my phone in another room again.”

And planning to make sure that sack of shit doesn’t come within a fifty mile radius again, but I don’t point that out.

I head upstairs to check my boy. He’s sleeping soundly with his mouth wide open, catching flies. His spaceman PJs are getting too small. He’s turning into a proper grown up kid in front of my eyes.

I only have chance to venture into my bedroom for a few minutes before Cam wakes up for the day. I check my things but nothing looks amiss, until I see it. The missing picture of Mariana from my dresser. Piece of shit. I take a deep breath and count to ten, assuring myself that things could be a lot worse.

I only notice my laptop is on when the screen switches to sleep mode in front of me. I lift it from the bed and log back in, wondering what the holy fuck he was looking for.

It’s easy enough to figure it out. The browser screen is still on our banking homepage. I log in to find the sonofabitch has withdrawn five grand into his bank account.

I need that money to pay wages next week. I curse him under my fucking breath.

I’m still seething as Serena appears in the doorway, she shakes her head in horror when I show her the withdrawal listed.

“What the fuck does he want with five grand? You’re still paying him?”

“Same as always,” I tell her. “Plus his dividend payments.”

“You think he’s running away?”

No, I don’t. It doesn’t stop me hoping all the same.

“I don’t like this,” Serena whispers. “It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all.”

But nothing about Jake ever does. Hasn’t done since the fire. Maybe even before that.

“I’ll sort it,” I tell her. “I’ll get right onto the lawyer and the police on Monday morning. We’ll fix this. Try to get him the help he’ll need, if he’ll take it.”

She looks so sad it breaks my heart. “You’ll get him help?”

“I said I’d try.”

She nods. “Thanks, Leo.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, but it makes no difference.

She’s still hugging me tight as our little champ wakes up. It makes my heart smile when he joins in too.Thirty-FiveUnforgiveness is like drinking poison yourself and waiting for the other person to die.

Marianne WilliamsonAbigailI sleep into the afternoon. There’s a message waiting on my phone when I wake up.

Late dinner? I’ll knock this time. Court a little traditionalism.

It’s the best way to wake up.

Scrap that. Waking up next to him will be the best way to wake up. This is just a good runner up.

It feels weird to text back.

I’d like that. Bring chocolate. I’ll cook.

I’ve already sent it by the time I realise I have no idea what he likes to eat. Crap.