Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 (11 page)

I’m too tired to argue. Too tired to protest. I turn over and curl into an oblivious little ball. Somewhere in the distant reaches of my brain I sense my limbs being moved around, my dress removed and bedcovers placed over my skin.

I have no real idea what is happening to me or who is here. Except for a strong sensation there is a wild squall heading my way.

Chapter Five

Jamaican steel-drums pound a lively rhythm inside my skull.

I hear someone groan but don’t open my eyes. I know that someone is me. Already way too much bright sunshine filters through my closed lids rendering the pain in my head unbearable. The awful build-up to last night’s events come crashing down like a devastating Tsunami. I remember every last moment and this is one time I’d rather not. I also remember swearing the last time, I’d never drink so recklessly again.

I groan.

My throat is so dry and gritty, at first I presume it’s a result of all the Cognac Sours I sank. But the damp chill running through my body can mean only one thing. The Sirocco. Jack is close by. I whimper and groan. I’m not strong enough to weather the storm I know is coming.

Raising my head carefully from the pillow I force one eye open a crack. Jack is sitting in the armchair facing the foot of my bed, just staring back at me. I shut my eye again and let my head drop back like a loose boulder.

The image of him sitting there, however, is already burned on my retinas. His casual posture, one leg crossed over the other knee, doesn’t fool me for a second. Uptight, would be putting it mildly. He’s also wearing the same clothes as the night before which can’t be good. It means he’s been sitting there all night long… stewing.

Surly is probably a more accurate word for the way he looks. Deep furrows mark the space between his eyebrows and he isn’t happy with me little one bit. Another groan escapes me.

“Water. Painkillers. On the cabinet.”

Uh oh.

I decide on a charm offensive. “Thanks,” I croak. That’s as far as it gets.

Jack doesn’t acknowledge my attempt to be nice. He doesn’t try to help me either and I know that’s a very bad sign.

Carefully I raise myself until I’m propped on one elbow. Every movement hurts like hell. My half-opened eye casts about until I spy the water glass and pills but with hand-eye co-ordination less than operational, I knock the glass off the bedside cabinet. I flop back defeated waiting to die in un-medicated, dehydrated agony.

Jack rises and walks over, upends the glass, and pours more water. I presume he’ll have a jug full of the stuff handy and calculating on past history, I could probably knock the glass over at least twice more and still be well supplied.

He returns to sit down in his chair. “Try again.”

This hands-off approach is definitely bad news. Perhaps I deserve it a little bit this time. How could I have allowed Luc to get me so wasted? Luc. Another groan escapes my lips.

Moving in slow motion until my fingers curl safely round the glass, I grip tightly before bringing the lot to my lips and tipping. As I’m lying at an angle most of it ends up running over my skin and onto the sheets and pillows but I get enough down me to moisten my desiccated tongue and throat.

Placing the glass carefully back I vow once more, never, ever, to drink again. I think I might mean it, this time. I collapse backwards. Maybe I’m lying in a soggy patch but it feels kind of cool and nice. This is going to be another hot day and I vaguely wonder how late it is.

“Forgot painkillers,” I grumble, practically weeping as I remember I still have to accomplish the second part of my task.

“So take them.”

My hand gropes about until I catch the edge of the cabinet. I walk my fingers across the top to discover the blister packet. Working like a neurosurgeon I transfer one at a time to my mouth and chew into the bitterness hoping to dissolve them straight into my bloodstream as quickly as possible.

He maintains utter silence. Why isn’t Jack talking to me? “In my defence –”

His sharp bark of a laugh isn’t friendly. “You think you have a defence for the stunt you pulled last night?”

I continue undaunted. “In my defence, this is
your
fault.” There’s an upside to being hung-over. I’m less sensitive to my lies than usual.

“How do you work that out?” Cold and unmoving.

The chair creaks as he leans forward. Perhaps his bad temper is simply from lack of sleep and easily remedied. I’m hopeful.

“I asked you to go dancing.” I speak very slowly as every word costs me.

“I refused.”

“Exactly! Ow.” I press against the thudding in my temple until it subsides into the background. Getting over-enthusiastic, even if he agrees with me, hurts too much.

“So, everyone has to do what you want them to or you try to hurt yourself?”

That’s a strange way to put it. It isn’t like that at all. “No.”

“What then?”

“You didn’t want to go, so I went by myself.”

“That’s not why you went.”

“It was.” It wasn’t.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” He sounds just like some ace prosecution lawyer who knows all the answers already.

“You were busy.” Talking to her.

“That’s rubbish and you know it. You ran away. After you promised me you were done running away.”

“I didn’t run away. I went clubbing.” I don’t have the mental capacity to debate the finer points further.

“You ran. And I want to know why.”

Hell will be a holiday destination before I tell him how hurt I am over his relationship with Amanda. Or that I know he uses me for casual downtime sex or maybe worse –  mess-clearing duty. Sex to keep me out of trouble. It will only make me look pathetic and jealous and I’ve got some dignity.

Actually I have no dignity.

I lie, eyes closed, drunk as a stinking skunk in a damp bed, talking to a bad-tempered, disembodied voice that still makes me feel a hundred times better for his being here, even though he will never be mine. Clearly I have no dignity at all.

“You left me on my own to go and work,” I whine.

“For God’s sake, Tabitha. If you’re going to do something irresponsible every time I have to work, there’s no point to any of this.”

No point. I don’t like the way he says it. In spite of Amanda, I want there to be a point for me and Jack. I’m not ready to let him go. I’m not ready to give up this fight.

I drag myself upright ignoring all the light-headedness and the pounding, twist myself around and crawl on hands and knees gingerly to the bottom of the bed. I step carefully to the floor and climb straight onto Jack’s lap. He doesn’t push me away but holds me and I’m so grateful for that. I just need him to hold me. I don’t care that I’m naked except for last night’s pair of skimpy panties. I don’t even care how I got that way.

I burrow in closer and he shifts so I can manage. My head rests in the curve of his shoulder as I breathe him in. Faint remnants of last night’s Clive Christian and that perfect smell of Jack’s warm body comfort me immeasurably.

“You’re cold.” Jack reaches out and drags the quilt draped along the foot of my bed. He wraps it round both of us and I feel instantly better in his arms. I knew I would.

“Sorry,” I whisper into his neck.

He strokes my hair repeatedly. “I know.” He pauses. “But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

Can I truly only be happy when I’m with Jack? It’s too big a question for me to answer.

* * *

I must have slept for a while because when I wake I’m back in bed with Jack snuggled up behind me. My head has finally stopped hammering and I feel a bit less like a sorry mess although I expect I still look like one. I turn myself gradually inside Jack’s arms until I’m facing him. I don’t want to wake him as I don’t think he slept at all last night but his devastatingly blue eyes open straight onto mine.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi.” He sounds bone-achingly weary and I wonder if he slept or just held me while I did. “Feeling better?” His eyes wander over my face.

I nod carefully and it doesn’t make the room spin. Jack rolls away onto his back.

Something isn’t right between us yet. I’m scared to move. Scared to speak in case it bursts this gentle bubble.

“Have you got feelings for that man?” His ground out, strained voice causes my heart to falter.

“Laurent?”

“That one I found you with.” He’s much tenser than normal. I don’t even have to look at him to sense it. “The one who had his hands all over you. You didn’t seem to mind.”

I lower my voice as optimism plummets. “Luc.”

“If that’s what his name is.” The bed swims when Jack shifts, opening up a narrow space between us. “Do you?”

I roll onto my stomach, my forearms bent beneath me and push up to look at him. “No.” He’s staring at the ceiling not at me, so I wait.

Jack twists his head round slowly, studying me as if trying to marry what I’m saying to the truth of his own eyes.

“No!” It’s important Jack knows how serious I am. “Luc paid me into the club. I forgot to take any money with me.”

“So you felt you… owed him?”

I don’t like the way he says it. “Not like that.”

“Like what then?”

We’re both so still it’s almost as if we’ve stopped breathing.

“Not the way you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking.”

“You’re suggesting something horrible.”

Jack ignores my upset. “I presume he paid for all the alcohol you drank too.”

I won’t avoid his eyes in case he thinks I have something to hide. “I was a bit careless.”

“Careless?” The deep breath he takes suggests he’s about to begin a tirade about how far outside the city limits of careless I’ve strayed.

“Okay. I know. I was stupid. Mind-numbingly stupid as it happens. Luc was the one guy that was kept a million miles from me growing up.”

“With good reason it would seem.”

“I get it.” I hate he would doubt me and in this of all ways but I can see how he might find it difficult to believe when I’d gone there alone in the first place. Tears prick at my eyes.

“We can only hope so.” He stares harder and now it’s my turn to roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

Any further concerns rest unvoiced as we lie beside each other for a bit; together yet separate, while I replay our conversation in my head. Is Jack concerned about my safety or is there more to this? I can’t square what I’m thinking with the relationship he has with Amanda. Just because I wish something doesn’t make it true. I’ve made that mistake before.

I’m not that big a fool. “Are we done?”

“I don’t know, Tabitha. Are we?”

I hurl myself on top of him and bury my head in his shoulder. “Please don’t fight with me, Jack.”

“Feeling fragile?” He doesn’t sound too sympathetic.

“Sad.”

Jack may be present in the flesh but he’s no more mine than he was after he left me four years back. Will taking what I can get ever be enough though?

“Are you able to get up?” he asks me.

“Yes.” I silently vow to do anything he wants just to put this right.

“Good, because we need to eat.”

My eyes widen in horror and I blow out my cheeks as the thought of food makes me queasy. I lift my head to determine if his sense of humour is returning. He laughs gently at me, repeating his words slowly. “You need to eat after that much alcohol. It’ll help you to recover.”

“I’m not sure my stomach would agree.” I swallow. Although my head has stopped thumping, my insides feel like they’ve circumnavigated the globe by sea in an upturned oil drum. “Are we talking from bitter experience here?” I hazard a joke to encourage his slow thaw.

“In my young and reckless days.” There’s a note of censorship in his voice as if I should be past all that by now.

“These are my young and reckless days,” I point out, quietly.

He looks at me thoughtfully and his expression slowly softens. “I suppose they are.” He sighs. “With such grim determination to over-achieve, I forget how young you really are.” He makes it sound like a crime.

“Over-achieve?”

“You push yourself too hard; further than anyone I’ve ever met. Yet you’ve never learned a better way of handling the pressure.”

He clearly doesn’t understand that by throwing myself into studies or work it meant I didn’t have to think about losing him.

“You’ve grown up back to front, Miss Caid.”

I smile at the silly notion.

“But as long as I’m here to save you.” He seems satisfied with his thoughts.

For how long this time?

He leans forward and drops a gentle kiss on my lips. “Up.” He throws back his side of the cover to get out. “I’ll shower first so you can have ten minutes more to doze. Then I’ll make food while you shower.”