“Lots of reasons. Drugs. Gang stuff. Everything you, uh, used to see on a daily basis.”
I caught his slip, and it was my turn to flinch, but I didn’t want to get into all that now. Or ever, actually. Despite everything I knew about recovery and rehabilitation, I’d learned the hard way that talking about the same old stuff over and over and over just made it worse. Things happened and life moved on. Or you died, like Rami’s brother. “I’m sorry it affected your family so badly. Safia never told me the details.”
“OD,” Rami said absently. “Like I said, it wasn’t unexpected, just…”
“Awful?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“What about me?”
Rami eyed me over the top of Charlie’s head. “I’ve told you how I came to be here. You want to return the favour?”
“I live here.”
“How? Why? The lastIknew, you lived in the new-build flats behind the retail park.”
“Never said it was home, though, did I?”
“So what was it?”
“My life back then. This is my life now.”
“Vague.”
“Didn’t know you were so interested.”
A faint smile warmed Rami’s tired face. He averted his gaze, spotting the armchair in the corner of the kitchen by the bookshelf.
He crossed the room and gently deposited Charlie. I followed and pulled a blanket from the basket. It was thick wool and somehow smelled of my long dead grandpa’s Christmas cinder toffee. I smelled cinnamon too, but I knew that was all Rami Stone. Cinnamon and mystery, that was him.
Rami straightened, starting when he found me behind him. “I forgot how light on your feet you are for a fucking giant.”
“I’m, like, two inches taller than you.”
“And a foot wider.”
“Not anymore.”
Rami’s hot gaze spread through me like wildfire. “No, I guess you’re not. I didn’t notice before.”
I nodded and handed him the blanket, then backed up to give him room to tuck Charlie in. I missed his scent, though. There was something so comforting about it, and yet so thrilling it scared me.
Rami left Charlie to sleep and came back to the kitchen counter.
I pulled a stool out for him. “You hungry?”
“Nah.”
“Sure about that? You don’t look like you had time to eat dinner.”
“How can you tell?”
“Instinct.”
“Fail-safe, are they? Your instincts, I mean?”
Not even close.But Ramiwasclose, and somehow that made the flash of disquiet in my gut, the ripple of fear, easier to ignore. “Look, all I’m saying is that I didn’t have my second dinner yet, so if you want to join me there’s plenty.”