me.
“No.”
Sky reappears in the door, her face hard. “They took my fucking laptop! Fuckers!”
I attempt not to smile, vestiges of my Sky shining through. “I’ll call the police while you make a list of what's missing?” That’s what they do on TV? I was robbed once, but it didn’t bother me, I just bought new stuff. Yep, that’s the selfish, spoilt prick I was back then.
I hold the glass of wine back to Sky and she grabs it, draining the contents before thrusting the empty glass back at me. “Thanks, I’ll have another.”
****
Sky
The policewoman who arrives spends more time gawking at Dylan, and flicking her gaze between the rock god and teary-faced girl than she does paying attention to her colleague. She’s supposed to take notes, but I bet she missed half of what’s said. There’s been a spate of robberies, apparently common leading up to Christmas. This makes me sick, stealing kids’ presents from under Christmas trees. In a tiny way, I’m pleased they targeted me rather than a place where kids would’ve lost longed-for gifts.
Dylan takes over, prompting and cajoling me into answering the questions and filling the gaps where I couldn’t and eventually they leave. They don’t say the words, but I get the impression there’s not much they can do. I rummage around in the drawer for my insurance documents. I’ll call tomorrow.
The world retreated into a weird parallel universe as soon as I walked into my trashed flat. Invaded and violated, my space isn’t my own anymore. I’ve had more nights than I’d like to admit worrying about sleeping alone here, not because the suburb is some backstreet ghetto, but because I’ve never lived alone. My move from the family home was into a place with Grant, and then this place five months ago.
The idea of sleeping in a flat with no locks on the doors turns my stomach, but this is something Dylan has thought about.
“You should call Tara?” he suggests as he closes the not-worth-closing front door behind the police officers.
“She’s not home, she’s in Shropshire.”
“You don’t have a key to her place?”
“No.” I did for her old place, but she moved in with Tom recently.
There’s Ryan, but asking to stay with him wouldn’t be fair. He’s in a share house too; they might not welcome an impromptu guest.
I park my backside on the sofa and drain another glass of wine.
“You can’t stay here,” he says. “Do you want me to book you into a hotel?”
“I could do, I guess.”
“Or.” He pauses. “Or you can come and stay with me?”
In my befuddled state, his words eat to the insecure, scared girl with her protective man stepping in. Being alone in a hotel doesn’t appeal. If my flat wasn’t the last place I wanted to be, or if I had viable options there’s no way I’d accept his offer. We’ve seen each other twice since July, and a week ago, I thought he was a rapist.
“My place in London is big, bigger than the holiday house. You’d have privacy and…”
“Okay.”
Dylan straightens. “Really?”
“I think I’d feel safer staying with someone else, in case this was more than a robbery.”
Is this coincidence that I’ve seen Dylan, and now this? I conclude I’m paranoid. Lily never contacted me again after her bombshell, and who would know I’d seen Dylan again?
“I’m sure this is just a break-in. But I’d rather you were somewhere you feel comfortable.”
“Just tonight. I can sort something out tomorrow.”
Dylan nods. “I’ll contact Steve. Do you want me to ask him to arrange for your place to be secured until you get back?”
I wander to my bedroom, and drag my rucksack from under the bed, absent-mindedly shoving items of clothing in. The reality hits and I sit on the edge of the bed, tears spilling as I shake. I’m vulnerable and lost; the damage has spread to my confidence and I don’t want to come back here.
Dylan knocks on my half-open bedroom door, and I’m aware he’s seen
“No.”
Sky reappears in the door, her face hard. “They took my fucking laptop! Fuckers!”
I attempt not to smile, vestiges of my Sky shining through. “I’ll call the police while you make a list of what's missing?” That’s what they do on TV? I was robbed once, but it didn’t bother me, I just bought new stuff. Yep, that’s the selfish, spoilt prick I was back then.
I hold the glass of wine back to Sky and she grabs it, draining the contents before thrusting the empty glass back at me. “Thanks, I’ll have another.”
****
Sky
The policewoman who arrives spends more time gawking at Dylan, and flicking her gaze between the rock god and teary-faced girl than she does paying attention to her colleague. She’s supposed to take notes, but I bet she missed half of what’s said. There’s been a spate of robberies, apparently common leading up to Christmas. This makes me sick, stealing kids’ presents from under Christmas trees. In a tiny way, I’m pleased they targeted me rather than a place where kids would’ve lost longed-for gifts.
Dylan takes over, prompting and cajoling me into answering the questions and filling the gaps where I couldn’t and eventually they leave. They don’t say the words, but I get the impression there’s not much they can do. I rummage around in the drawer for my insurance documents. I’ll call tomorrow.
The world retreated into a weird parallel universe as soon as I walked into my trashed flat. Invaded and violated, my space isn’t my own anymore. I’ve had more nights than I’d like to admit worrying about sleeping alone here, not because the suburb is some backstreet ghetto, but because I’ve never lived alone. My move from the family home was into a place with Grant, and then this place five months ago.
The idea of sleeping in a flat with no locks on the doors turns my stomach, but this is something Dylan has thought about.
“You should call Tara?” he suggests as he closes the not-worth-closing front door behind the police officers.
“She’s not home, she’s in Shropshire.”
“You don’t have a key to her place?”
“No.” I did for her old place, but she moved in with Tom recently.
There’s Ryan, but asking to stay with him wouldn’t be fair. He’s in a share house too; they might not welcome an impromptu guest.
I park my backside on the sofa and drain another glass of wine.
“You can’t stay here,” he says. “Do you want me to book you into a hotel?”
“I could do, I guess.”
“Or.” He pauses. “Or you can come and stay with me?”
In my befuddled state, his words eat to the insecure, scared girl with her protective man stepping in. Being alone in a hotel doesn’t appeal. If my flat wasn’t the last place I wanted to be, or if I had viable options there’s no way I’d accept his offer. We’ve seen each other twice since July, and a week ago, I thought he was a rapist.
“My place in London is big, bigger than the holiday house. You’d have privacy and…”
“Okay.”
Dylan straightens. “Really?”
“I think I’d feel safer staying with someone else, in case this was more than a robbery.”
Is this coincidence that I’ve seen Dylan, and now this? I conclude I’m paranoid. Lily never contacted me again after her bombshell, and who would know I’d seen Dylan again?
“I’m sure this is just a break-in. But I’d rather you were somewhere you feel comfortable.”
“Just tonight. I can sort something out tomorrow.”
Dylan nods. “I’ll contact Steve. Do you want me to ask him to arrange for your place to be secured until you get back?”
I wander to my bedroom, and drag my rucksack from under the bed, absent-mindedly shoving items of clothing in. The reality hits and I sit on the edge of the bed, tears spilling as I shake. I’m vulnerable and lost; the damage has spread to my confidence and I don’t want to come back here.
Dylan knocks on my half-open bedroom door, and I’m aware he’s seen
Similar Books
![A Dangerous Moon [Tales of the Werewolf Clan]](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.online/610785/thumbs/152x264/a-dangerous-moon-tales-of-the-werewolf-clan.jpg)
