His weathered face forced its way into my brain.
Cringing, I got up and staggered to the kitchen, opening the fridge, wincing at the light.
The shelves were heavy with Rubi food. Pies. Pasta bakes. Irish shit I’d never learned the name of. But at the very top, he’d left a Tupperware with a note.
Matttttts,
I’d do it for you, but you always do it better. Make yourself a sandwich, boyo. You know it makes sense.
Love ya x
I didn’t feel like making fucking sandwiches, but bocadillos were the one meal I could put together that made the people around me smile. The one thing I could make on autopilot without texting Rubi, Cam, or Orla for help.
Or maybe I’d made so many of them they made themselves these days.
Who knew?
Not me.
I still knew nothing except the barbed paranoia that Juana had left me and Embry was fucking someone else, which reminded me to call Saint a cunt.
I’d left my phone on the floor. Chewing on a bocadillo, I went back for it and remembered Embry’s messages.
Embry:Staying late. Unless you need me to come home?
Embry:Take that as no. Nash said you went home. Did you sleep?
Embry:Are you okay?
He’d sent the last message ten minutes ago. I thumbed out a reply. Deleted it and tried again but took so long he called me.
Answering felt like the end of the world, but I loved his voice. I lovedhim, and I took the call. “I fucking miss you.”
Embry chuckled. “At least you’re alive then.”
“Lucky you.”
“Yeah, lucky me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“How’d you know?”
“Vibes,” he retorted, Cornish brogue dry as a fucking bone. “And I’ve had it from multiple sources that you’ve been acting weird all day.”
“I haven’t seen anyone—” The denial died in my throat. The bullshit. Ihadseen people. Lots of them.
Liliana, Juana.
Locke, Nash, and Orla.
Alexei.
Any number of them could’ve grassed me up, but my money was on Alexei. Embry annoyed him less than I did. “I’m bored,” I tried again. “Being home alone makes me batshit.”
“I’m sorry.”