Page 35 of Fire Fight

“Okaaaaaay,” he says, frowning. “And you can’t postpone?”

“She’s blowing you off, dick head,” a voice calls out. “Told you she didn’t want to fu—”

“You shut the fuck up,” Hudson abruptly shouts, turning and grabbing the boy by the collar, wrestling him from the room. He’s red-faced when he returns. “Ignore Ben. He’s a moron.”

I back away from the entrance, shocked at his burst of bad temper. “Okay.”

“Wait!” Hudson follows me outside, closing the door. “Sorry. He’s been winding me up all night and when he started swearing at you... I lost it.” He shuffles his feet, shooting me an adorably shamefaced grin. “Mum is always yelling at us for yelling.”

The summary makes me chuckle. “Sounds like a bad way to deliver that message.”

He wrinkles his nose before nodding back to the house. “Did you want to come back inside? I promise to be whisper quiet.” His volume mimics the sentiment.

“No, I better get back but... did you want to postpone till the weekend after next?”

The relieved smile lights up his face. “Sure. Sounds great.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CADENCE

In an annoying twist,from the moment I time Drake’s morning swim, he stops taking them. Each day, I wake early, listening for the telltale sounds of his door slamming. Each day, I admit defeat and scamper into the shower to get prepped for school, deflated.

Even Arnold notices. On Friday morning—the third day of dashed expectations—he jokes, “Too cold for you, son?” and Drake shrugs in answer.

My nervous system would be at breaking point except Mum’s observation turned out to be prescient.

There really is something sleep-inducing about the sea air and the crashing boom of the ocean. It’s peaceful knowing any dangers are safely locked outside, an alarm staying vigilant, so we don’t have to.

I still want my pills back, but with each night more restful than the last, the urgency fades… just like the writing on my sternum. It turns into a matter of pride rather than necessity.

If Drake weren’t such a gigantic dick, I might even thank him.

A very bigif.

I pin my hopes on Saturday but when Raelene queries his plans over breakfast, he says he’ll stick around home all day.

“Don’t want to get caught somewhere and have to call off our family dinner,” he explains, catching my eye with a malicious twinkle.

I’m heaping Greek yoghurt on my muesli when Arnold comes to the connecting door, frowning. “Cadence? I’d like a word?”

Drake makes a tsk sound and I shoot him my middle finger, reverting to an eight-year-old.

“Have I done something wrong?” I ask, voice suitably chastened as Arnold escorts me into the lounge. I haven’t seen him upset before and my hand instinctively curves around my neck.

“You put a stained white blouse in the hamper rather than giving it straight to Emily.” He pushes the offending garment at me, traces of the fatty mayonnaise residue and orange sauce still showing on the front despite it being laundered.

“I’m sorry.” My fingers pinch at the skin on my throat, plucking it as my emotions overreact until I want to cry. “Someone pushed me in the cafeteria.”

His expression tightens further. “I don’t care how it happened. What I care about is that on Monday, this was a perfectly good blouse. Now it’s ruined.”

My gaze drops to the floor, and he pinches my arm.

Hard.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Startled, I meet his gaze. Alarmed at the pain and the change from the mild-mannered man I’ve grown used to seeing.

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