Malaise Page 15

  “When can I meet your dad?”

  He shrugs. “I messaged Tanya this morning, and she said he’s picked up some cash work driving a semi up north, so he won’t be home until tomorrow. Even so, I’m not having you talk to him the night before your exam, Meg.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does,” he counters. “I’m not having that bastard upset you when you need your head in the game.”

  I stare him down, taking the last bite of my donut. He watches me eat, and raises his hand to stop me as I open my lips to lick the sugar off. Carver steps forward and crowds my space with his heat, resting a hand on the side of my neck. I draw a measured breath, making sure I don’t inhale the sugar and choke on it. His thumb presses against my chin below my mouth, and he pulls the flesh down, presenting my bottom lip to him.

  “May I?”

  I tip my chin up in response. He’s distracting me, trying to get me to forget what we were discussing. Does it make me a hussy if I say it works?

  He leans down and closes the space between us, sucking my bottom lip between his and licking the sugar off. A hum sounds in his chest, and I find myself placing my hands over his pecs to feel the vibration.

  “Delicious.”

  “I haven’t forgotten what we were talking about,” I whisper.

  “No,” he says with a smug smile, “but it made you shut up, right?”

  “Fine. You win… this time.”

  “Always.”

  ***

  The following two days pass in a kind of routine: we wake, Carver searches for work with no luck, and I study. He spoke to his dad when he returned from driving after some not so subtle persuasion on my behalf. Carver thought it was a joke when I came to bed fully clothed, but after I insisted I wouldn’t strip down again until he agreed to set up a time for me to meet his old man, he relented.

  I get introduced this weekend. And now I’m nervous about it.

  “What time is your exam today?” Carver walks in from the bathroom and sits on the edge of the mattress so as not to disturb my litany of textbooks and notepaper.

  “Eleven.”

  “That’s a shit time; you’ll be in there over lunch.”

  “I know, right?” I set the pen in my hand down and roll to my back so I can face him better. “What will you do while I’m there?”

  He reaches out and runs a finger along the bridge of my nose, smiling. “Don’t you worry about me, just you worry about yourself.”

  “I can’t help but worry.”

  “I’ll swing by home and pick up a few things.” He moves my things aside so he can lie half on, half off the bed with his head on my stomach. “Might pawn off a couple of things to buy us a few nights.”

  My heart sinks; I’ve already given him half of my savings to help with food and the last two nights. “I wish I could do more to help.” I crunch my body into a pretzel so I can lean down far enough to place a kiss on his lips.

  He reaches over his head and presses his hands behind my shoulders, holding me in place. “You’re doing enough by focusing on your exams. Don’t be a moron like me and blow them off. Do the best you can, and worry about what comes after when the final papers have been handed in.”

  I sit up, Carver shifting so his head is now in my lap. “At least preparing for them has kept me distracted before the funeral.”

  “Will you still try to talk to your mum and dad, though?” He rolls away so he can sit and level our gazes.

  I shrug in answer to his question. “What’s the use? I’m sure they won’t ban me from the building when I turn up.”

  “No, but it might make things a little awkward if you don’t all work the tension out first.”

  I reach across my textbook and pick up my phone. The screen is devoid of any notifications. “They would call if they cared about fixing things.” I toss the device down, frustrated that they don’t even want to fight to make things right. They seem so resigned to this being how it is.

  Does it hurt them, not knowing where I am or what I’ve been doing? Because it certainly hurts me that they can just cut me loose like this.

  “How long do we have until you need to be down at the school?” Carver asks, breaking me from my daze. The frown pinching between his eyebrows shows his concern.

  “Um.” I tap the screen of my phone again. “A bit under an hour.”

  That damn, lazy smirk returns, his eyes bright as he crowds my space until I relent and lie back. The highlighter digs into my spine, and I’m skewed thanks to the thick textbook wedged under my right side, but who cares when I’ve got this guy over me?

  “What are you doing?” I can’t fight the urge to smile in return.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  His shoulders are firm beneath my touch, the muscles taut as he holds himself over me. “I need to cram before the exam.”

  “I know.”

  “And I can’t do it on my back with the book under me.” I chuckle.

  He holds a single finger between us and diverts his gaze to the text sticking out from beneath my ribs. “What bit were you reading?”

  “The definition of the terms.”

  His eyes track the page, and he nods. “Okay. Make you a deal.”

  “I’m listening.” My hands drift down his arms and back up, following every dip and curve of his sculpted frame.

  “I ask you for a definition, you get it right, I reward you.”

  “How?”

  His eyes flicker with wicked intent. “For me to know and you to find out, babe.”

  I smile wide, my chest full of adoration for this guy. He’s always known what to do to make me happy, to make me relax and forget the shit world outside our plain motel door. “Fire away, then. First question?”

  “Alliteration,” he quizzes, a grin on his luscious lips as he waits on my answer.

  “The same letter or sound at the beginning of adjacent words.” Nailed it.

  “Close enough.” He ducks his head to one shoulder. “I’m sure you’d pass.”

  My breathing stills, my eyes transfixed on his mouth as he chews his bottom lip in contemplation.

  “We’ll start out light in the rewards.” He pushes up so that he straddles my hips, and pulls his T-shirt off. “Don’t want you getting sidetracked after the first few questions.”

  “Next,” I ask impatiently.

  “Conjunction.”

  “A word that connects other words, phrases, or clauses.”

  “Such as?” He pops the button on his jeans, teasing the zip down as I answer.

  “And, but, when, or….” Sweet, baby Jesus.

  “Good girl.” His damn hand is shoved inside his boxers, and given the way the material moves over his fist, I know what he’s holding on to.

  “You’re not taking this slow, are you?” I tease, eyes suggestively on his crotch.

  He chuckles. “Nope. Not when we’ve only got about half an hour left before we need to hit the road.”

  “Next?” I squeak.

  He glances to the book, hand still working on the business end of things. “Here’s a good one: gerund.”

  Shit. I should know this. The damn word always sticks out because it sounds so funny. Something to do with a verb….

  “It’s okay to admit if you don’t know,” he teases, in more ways than with what he just said. “Just let me know, and I can go chill out in the armchair while you study.”

  “No, I’ve got this.”

  His lips quirk up on one side in silent approval. I wrack my brain for the answer, frustrated because I know I at least have half of it: it has something to do with verbs.

  “Ugh.”

  “Come on, Meg. You can do it.” He places both hands beside my head and leans in close; our noses almost touch. “Gerund.” Whoa. The way he drags the word out makes English sound so damn sexy.

  “Why weren’t you my tutor in school?” I ask.

  “Because you would have got nothing done.” />
  His lips brush over mine and I close my eyes on instinct. “What was it I was supposed to be defining again?”

  He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my chest. “A gerund.”

  “Right.” Fuck the gerund. “I’m sure it won’t matter if I get one answer wrong.”

  “That’s not the attitude, babe.” He runs his nose up the side of my face and leaves a gentle kiss on my temple.

  “You’re too much of a distraction,” I complain half-heartedly.

  “And you’re too tempting.”

  His mouth closes over mine, and as he teases my lips apart with his tongue all thoughts of schooling and final exams are lost.

  I arch my back into his touch as he eases the hem of my T-shirt higher, his hand splayed over the taut skin on my stomach. “Carver….”

  “You say one more thing about school, exams, or gerunds,” he warns.

  “No.” I roll my head and look at the small coffee table beside the armchair. “Your phone’s ringing.”

  “Ignore it.”

  I groan as he slips his hand around my side, his thumb resting beneath the swell of my breast. He places kisses along my jaw and over my throat. The tickle of his lips on my flesh sends waves down my body that feel like the kiss of a summer breeze. I hook a foot over one of his calves, urging him closer as the phone silences.

  He rocks his hips into mine, his hand squeezing my ribs as he teases my earlobe with his bottom lip.

  The phone starts again.

  “Damn it.” Carver holds my gaze, a frown showing his frustration. “Don’t move.”

  He backs off the bed with a huff, a sigh escaping me as I flop back into the mattress, annoyed at the interruption and at how cold it feels without his body over mine.

  “Hey, what’s up?” He stands with his bare back to me, a hand on his hip as he holds the phone to his ear with the other.

  I roll on my side and look him over as he talks, admiring the way his loosened jeans sit low on his hips, and how his waist widens out into strong shoulders the higher my gaze tracks.

  “When did that happen?”

  His tone causes me to sit up, readjusting my T-shirt.

  “What else did they say?”

  He paces the short room and drags a hand over his face as he listens.

  “And what did you tell them?”

  The person on the other end must be frantic given the way Carver tries to interrupt to calm them down. “No… No, listen… I know… Just don’t worry about it. You did what you had to. Last thing I need is you in the shit for aiding and abetting.”

  What? Is it his dad? Who’s in trouble? He ends the call and slides his phone on the kitchenette counter.

  “What’s going on?” I scoot to the edge of the mattress and drop my legs over the side.

  “Cops showed up at Dad’s looking for me.”

  “What? Why?”

  He moves to stand before me, his fingers under my chin. “There was a break-in at my old work, and they want to talk to me.”

  “They think you did it?”

  “I’m sure they’re just eliminating possibilities,” he says, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

  He doesn’t believe what he’s saying. It’s written in the way he looks at me as though this is the last we’ll see each other. “What now?”

  “Tanya told them where we’re staying. They’ll be on the way here.”

  I reach out and wrap my arms around his thighs, pulling him into my hold and tucking my feet behind his ankles. “Why does this shit have to keep happening to us?”

  “Because we’re strong enough to get through it,” he answers simply. His hand comes down gently on my head, stroking my hair down my back. “Don’t get upset about it, Meg. It’s probably nothing.”

  “And if they think it was you?” I ask, wanting to be prepared for the worst. “Do you get arrested and put in jail?”

  He sighs, moving his hands to tuck under my arms and hoisting me to my knees so we’re at eye level. “With priors, probably.”

  Damn my weakness. Tears wet my cheeks, as much as I don’t want to overreact, but I can’t lose him too. I ball my hands into loose fists and drop them against his chest as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “You can say you’ve been here with me the whole time,” I instruct. “You have a chance with a solid alibi, right?”

  He places a palm against the side of my face and kisses my forehead, my nose. “The break-in happened when you were at work yesterday.”

  “No,” I cry out. “But you were talking to your dad then. Can he….” I drift off, realising what I’m about to say when his dad was the whole reason he got done for theft last time.

  “Yeah,” Carver murmurs, affirming my thoughts. “It’s going to be tough. But I’m trying to stay optimistic here, babe, so don’t cry. Please.”

  “I can’t help it,” I whine as I set my head against his chest. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened to me since Den died, and all of this? I can’t fucking take it if you weren’t here too.”

  He pulls in a shuddered breath. “Babe….”

  “You argue. You fight this,” I demand.

  He holds on to me for what feels an age, letting me process what this means. Everything’s changed: our whole plan about me finishing school and him hopefully finding a job? It’s gone. Talk about a spanner in the works.

  The sound of tyres outside and the distinct quiet after an engine shuts off, pull me from our embrace.

  “Surely not,” I murmur, clambering off the bed in my haste to check the window beside the door. “Not yet.”

  A plain navy sedan sits beside the Falcon. Two men in suits step out; one straightens his jacket as he surveys the buildings.

  “Come, sit down, Meg.” Carver’s hands gently rest on my shoulders and he steers me away from the door. “Just sit, and don’t say anything. Okay?”

  I scowl in response.

  “Okay?” he asks again as three loud thumps sound at the door. “Let me handle this.”

  I nod, pulling my knees to my chest. Carver tugs his T-shirt on and reaches for the handle. My heart goes haywire, thundering so hard against my ribcage I can feel it where my legs press into my chest.

  “Can I help?” Carver asks, one hand casually on the edge of the door above his head.

  “Brett Carver?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective Constable Martin, and this is Senior Sergeant Albertson.” The men offer their hands in turn, and shake Carver’s. “We’ve got a few questions for you in relation to an investigation regarding a break-in at Jefferson’s Auto on Rhodes, your previous place of employment.”

  “Yeah. My sister called and said you’d been around home.”

  Detective Martin looks over Carver’s shoulder and eyes me on the chair. “Perhaps we should talk outside?”

  “No.” Carver glances over and gives me a small smile. “She’s okay to hear what you’ve got to say.”

  The cops run through the usual questioning of where he was, who he was with, and ask for any other information that may help eliminate him as a potential suspect. Carver asks what evidence they have against him, and all they’ll say is that they have “credible information.” What the hell does that even mean?

  The cops leave with a promise to return once they’ve checked his alibi, and a warning not to think of leaving town until they do.

  I stand at the window, shaking, as they drive off.

  “It’ll be okay,” Carver says quietly behind me, his hands finding my waist.

  I sink back into his embrace and shake my head. “Why don’t you sound like you believe your own words?”

  He sighs, and leans down to kiss my temple. “Because I don’t. But I don’t want you to worry, either.”

  “Too late.”

  NINETEEN

  I finish my exam and wait out in the quad for Carver to pick me up. I don’t know how I did, but I’m sure it’s not as good as I could have. There wasn’t a singl
e thing I could do to help me focus on the job at hand, not when we’ve just been dropped this bombshell. Carver’s told me not to worry about it, and I shouldn’t. I mean, he didn’t do it, right? So what do I have to be stressed about?

  Still, my phone is trapped in a white-knuckled grip as I wait for it to power up again. The blank home screen stares back at me. Nothing. No notifications, no messages. He said he’d send me one regardless while I was in the exam to let me know if he’d heard anything else.

  Why hasn’t he sent anything?

  Twelve anxious minutes later, I finally spot the Falcon in the distance from my vantage point sitting atop the brick wall that fronts the school. I hop down, walking out to the kerb as he brings the car to a stop beside me.

  “You okay?” he asks as I get in.

  I drop my bag at my feet and twist side-on, one leg bent up on the seat. “Why didn’t you message?”

  “How did the exam go?” He brushes off my question and checks the mirror before pulling out.

  “I was worried,” I snap. “So it probably sucked.”

  He chuckles and turns us toward the motel. “You’ve got a couple of hours before your shift, right?”

  “Yeah.” I give him a nudge in the arm with a loose fist. “But you’re ignoring my question.”

  He sighs, reaching over to take my hand in his. “I didn’t hear anything else from the cops, Meg. But I spoke to Tanya.”

  “And?”

  “She said they seemed pretty adamant I’d done it. They were asking to see my room, asking if I owned certain items of clothing.”

  “What did she do? Did they go through your stuff?”

  He chuckles. “Nah. She told them to fuck off and come back with a warrant.” He’s proud of her. It’s adorable.

  “You think they will?”

  “Yeah. It’d be odd if they didn’t.”

  I turn forward in the seat and stare out the windscreen as we pass by the start of the main street. “Hey, do you think we could stop in town before we go back?” I have a legitimate reason to ask, but the thought it might buy me a few more minutes with him if they do return to the motel to arrest Carver isn’t far from my mind.

  “What for?”

  “I haven’t got any appropriate shoes for Den’s funeral.” I’d gone through the clothes Dad jammed in the bags last night and found a skirt and top that would be okay, but the only black footwear I own are my boots. Positive they’d just love it if I turned up in those.