A Grave Hunger (7 page)

CHAPTER 12

I awoke to a bright light streaming in through my window. I cringed away as it stung my eyes. My head pounded with a ruthless ferocity. An awful feeling crept over me, and it took me a moment to remember why. Then the flashbacks came. The tequila, the flirting, the kiss! I let out a groan of embarrassment and pulled the covers over my head as fragments of my last conversation buzzed around my mind. He had said that if we had sex it would be more than just sex. I understood completely what he had meant. I had never been able to have a 'no strings attached' attitude to sex. Having that intimacy with someone meant something more.

My brain felt fuzzy as I desperately tried to remember specifics of the conversation. What had he said?
There is something more between us than just sexual tension.
That statement ricocheted around my brain. I knew from the start that we had an indisputable sexual attraction for each other, but never thought it was anything more than that. I definitely had feelings for Finlay. He was my best friend, and I owed him so much. Without him, I don't think I would have managed to pull myself out of the deep despair I had been in. Was I in love with him? The question had me stumped. Without a doubt I loved him as a friend, as part of my new dysfunctional family, but was I in love with him? I wasn't even sure if I was capable of opening my heart to someone like that again. I knew I had closed myself off to others since my family had died. My emotional barriers were up, not being strong enough to let anyone else get too close in case I lost them too. It was amazing that I had allowed myself to get as close to Robert and Finlay as I had. But Finlay was right; we couldn't make it physical between us. Sex changes things and I couldn't risk losing him as a friend. He meant too much to me, and I needed him too much.

Unable to answer my question about being in love with Finlay, I dragged myself from bed. I reached for a bottle of water and pain killers, which sat on the bedside table, and chugged them down greedily. The throbbing in my head felt like something was trying to bore into my brain.

God, what was I going to say to Finlay? The thought of having that awkward conversation gave me a feeling of dread. I can't believe I kissed him! A multitude of scenarios played out in my mind as I thought about possible avenues our conversation could take. A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. The feeling of dread washed over me once more as I realised the visitor must be Finlay. I skulked to the door, took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and pulled it open. I frowned in confusion as I opened the door and saw Robert standing there.

"Looking a bit rough, Leah. Heavy night, was it?" Robert commented, smirking.

"You could say that," I grumbled. "Thanks for the compliment, by the way."

"Will you be ready to leave in half an hour, or do you need more time to ... recover?" The smirk was growing.

I shot him a glare. "I'll be ready, just let me have fifteen minutes to get my stuff together. Is Finlay ready to go?" I asked, working to keep my voice sounding casual.

"Finlay's already left. Said he had to be back early today for something. He asked me if I could drive you back."

I gaped at him in horror. Finlay left early so that he didn't have to be around me. It was worse than I thought. How would I fix this mess that I had made?

On the long drive back home, I pretended to be asleep. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Robert seemed quite content to have some quiet time, occasionally singing along to a song on the radio to pass the time. By the time Robert pulled up outside the motel, I was still no closer to figuring out what I would say to Finlay, or how I felt about him. I decided that it was best just to bite the bullet and get the awkward conversation over and done with.

Saying goodbye to Robert, I grabbed my overnight bag and made my way over to Finlay's room. My heart was beating furiously in my chest as I knocked on his door. It swung open to reveal a grim looking Finlay.

"Hey," I greeted him.

He stared at me a few moments, looking as though he was fighting an internal battle.

"Hey," he mumbled. "Come in."

I walked into the room and dumped my bag in a heap on the floor.

"So, you left pretty early this morning. What was so important?" I muttered, afraid to make eye contact with him, worried about what I would see.

"I just had some things I had to sort out," he muttered. The awkwardness between us was intense.

"Is that code for avoiding me?" I asked bluntly. I don't know where the sudden bout of confidence came from, but I’d had enough of beating around the bush.

He failed to answer, and the strained silence continued to grow between us.

"Right, enough of this weirdness, we are going to talk about last night."

"Ok." He sighed. "So talk." He sat down on the edge of the bed and gestured for me to join him.

"You took off pretty abruptly last night. I just wanted to make sure you're ok."

"What, like my feelings?" he replied sarcastically, a glimpse of the normal, jovial Finlay shining through.

"Yeah, your feelings. You do have them, don't you?"

After a brief pause, Finlay replied. "OK, I'll tell you what. Why don't I go get some herbal tea and some tissues? We can have a good talk and cry it out."

I rolled my eyes. "Well this has been a brilliant talk, and I think we have sorted out a lot today."

A strained smile played at his lips.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night. I made things weird between us, and that is the last thing I wanted," I said, embarrassment flooding my body.

"You weren't the one that made things weird. I should have kept my mouth shut." His body stiffened, voice strained. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"It would have come out eventually. You were right. There is something between us, but I get that we can't take it any further. It could be used against us when hunting, but it could also jeopardise our friendship, and I'm not willing to take that risk."

He stared at me with those piercing green eyes, and I struggled to interpret their meaning.

"So what do we do now then? Just stay friends and take a lot of cold showers?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." I laughed.

"So, we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Unless you still want to talk some more. I'm sure I've got some herbal tea somewhere."

"I'll save the herbal tea for some other time." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. "Ok then, friend. Get out of my room. I'm seriously hung over. I need to die quietly in peace."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who’s feeling a bit rough today," I answered, collecting my bag and walking to the door.

"Yeah, obviously you're not the only one tequila does bad things to."

CHAPTER 13

In the last seven days since our hunt, I had enjoyed relaxing, slobbing around, and doing nothing. If truth be told, I felt emotionally drained. So much had happened, I felt I had to work through how I felt; my worry over the child, the shock of my first kill, the kiss with Finlay. I hadn't seen much of Robert and Finlay over the last few days.  I think they both realised I needed some time and space to get my thoughts together. Not to mention I couldn't have been very good company. I had been in a foul mood recently due to Christmas fast approaching. Everywhere I looked I saw happy families, excited children and loving couples looking forward to Christmas together. It just served to remind me of everything that I didn't have, everything I had lost. My thoughts meandered to happier Christmases spent with my family.

A knock at the door pulled me from my dark thoughts. I shuffled over and pulled it open unenthusiastically. Finlay stood at the door with a mischievous grin on his face. He looked like a male model in the middle of a fashion shoot. He was wearing a black woollen coat and matching scarf to protect him from the arctic weather. His hair had a dusting of snow, which glistened when the light caught it.

Heavy snow had fallen for the last two days, coating every surface in a thick covering. Even the tacky, dated motel looked picturesque, hidden underneath a sparkling blanket. It looked seasonal, another reminder of Christmas. It felt as though the universe was conspiring against me.

"Hi," I greeted Finlay sombrely.

His eyes sparkled playfully. He didn't return my greeting. His grin widened as he threw something at me that he had been hiding behind his back. I flinched as the wet, cold snowball hit me square in the face. He exploded in a fit of laughter, but stopped short when I didn't join him. He frowned.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." I worked to place a smile on my face. "Snowball. Funny."

He rolled his eyes and, stepping inside out of the arctic weather, said, "Very convincing, Scotland. I wouldn't give up your day job to become an actress just yet."

He shook his head like a wet dog, shaking loose droplets of snow. I couldn't help but chuckle. He crossed to sit at the rickety table and chair and pulled off his boots. He then took off his coat and scarf, and draped them over the back of the chairs opposite him.

"So, what's up with you, grumpy?"

Realising that he wouldn't let it go until I told him, I answered, "Just Christmas. This time of year is always hard for me. It used to be a big tradition in my family."

He watched me as I slumped down on the edge of the bed, facing him.

"What were your Christmas traditions?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Every year we would buy the biggest Christmas tree that we could fit in the house and decorate it together while eating mince pies and drinking mulled wine. Then every Christmas Eve my sister and I would watch
It's a Wonderful Life
. " I couldn't help but smile nostalgically. "On Christmas Day we all went ‘round to my parent's house to have Christmas dinner together and play stupid games like charades. They are all gone now," I added sadly.

He nodded slowly. "So, you’re just going to boycott Christmas from now on then?"

"Pretty much. Anyway, there isn't much point doing Christmas yourself. Robert is as much of a Grinch as I am. We made a pact not to celebrate it."

"Well this year is different. I'm here. We are going to do the works this year. Start our own traditions."

I smiled at his enthusiasm. "What are your Christmas traditions then?"

"I don't have any," He frowned, staring off into the distance as though trying to dredge up some long forgotten memory. "I can't think of a year when I've ever celebrated it. My mom died when I was four and my dad usually dumped me at Robert's over Christmas so he could hunt. As you mentioned, Robert isn't the most festive person."

I gaped at him, horrified. "You didn't celebrate even when you were a child?" The prospect of a child being deprived of the excitement of Christmas sounded awful to me.

He shrugged. "I never celebrated my birthday either." He smiled. "You don't miss what you never had, Scotland."

I was overcome by a feeling of guilt. I was lucky to have years of happy memories: birthdays, Christmases, family holidays. Here I was moping about when Finlay didn't get to experience any of those happy memories growing up. His childhood sounded awful. I knew that Robert had done his best to raise him, but it sounded like Finlay had missed out on a lot growing up.

"So, what do you say, Scotland? Ready to make our own traditions this year?"

His eyes held such an excitement that I couldn't help but agree. "Yes. Let’s do it."

He stood from his seat, grabbing his coat from the chair and put it on.

"Get a jacket. I've just thought of what our first tradition could be - snowball fight!"