Page 40 of Where We Left Off

Tate puts me down and slams the door shut.

“Where the hell have you been?” he thunders, his voice deep and rebuking. I’m guessing he thinks that, with my mom preoccupied with Mitch, his dad won’t make a scene if Tate’s only gone for a few minutes. He backs me up to the bed and when my legs hit the mattress I have to steady myself on his arm. I quickly let go of it and scowl up at him.

“I’ve been idling away the hours to giveyouenough time to get the hell out of here, that’s where, and for some unbeknown reasonyou’re still here,” I hiss. I pull my hat off and throw it on the bed.

“I can tell what you’ve been doing, River,” he growls. “You’re still in your fucking uniform, and you come home at eight p.m. flushed in the face and panting.”

I frown, confused, until he brushes two fingers across my neck and looks away, dismayed.

“You’re literally sweating,” he adds darkly.

And then I realise.

I dig my hand into my gym bag and pull out my rolled up swimsuit, slapping it into his chest with a cold wet smack.

“You’re literallyinsane,” I say and I push him away so that I can strip off my jacket.

He’s blinking down at the swimsuit and his face is warming red.

“Get out,” I hiss when I snatch the item back.

“River,” he starts, but I push him in the chest to get him to back up. The size and rigidity under his shirt makes me suck in a breath and claw my fingers into him, and when I try to pull my hands away he cuffs me and puts them back.

“Stop it,” I say, struggling against his warm hold.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“You’re awful sorry about a lot it seems, and it’s starting to really piss me off,” I spit out.

His expression hardens. “How about I didn’t want my father’s hot little live-in screwing around whilst he gives her a roof to sleep under?”

I cock up an eyebrow antagonistically. “So this is in the name of the father, is it?” I ask, and then I look pointedly down at his crucifix. “Not,the son?”

Before he has a chance to retaliate there’s an urgent banging on the door.

I give Tate a smug little smile and call out, “It’s open.”

His eyes go wide and he reluctantly releases my hands as Mitch storms into the room.

He’s volcano-eruption red. “This better not be what I know it is,” Mitch grits out.

I fold my arms across my chest and reply, “Don’t take your tone withme. It’shimthat needs to be put on a leash.” Then I turn around to Tate and whisper, “We can get you one to match your little clerical collar.”

Tate smirks as Mitch grapples him out of the room, and seriously – what did Mitch think that Tate was going to do? Obviously he wasn’t going to try and hate-fuck me because that’s whatIasked for, and he hasn’t made any moves on that front in weeks. And in front of Mitch, too?

Actually, the thought of getting off whilst Tate and Mitch are both in the room is making me dizzy, so I better quickly swipe that thought under the rug.

“Don’t worry,” I say, brazen as they descend the attic staircase. “I’ll be out of this stupid arrangement in no time, finishing high school and fucking off to college, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Mitch swings around. “Yeah, about that – you need to go to the living room because your mom wants to talk to you, now.”

What? That’s weird. My mom never wants to talk to me.

I wait a minute until Mitch and Tate are out of sight, taking two puffs on my inhaler when they are no longer in the hearing vicinity, and then I go downstairs to the living room at the back. My mom is looking at renovation photographs which I presume are from our house, but it looks so different in its bare state that it’s virtually unrecognisable right now.

“Hey,” I say as I tentatively sit down on the cushion next to her.

“Hey honey,” she replies casually as she sweeps up the pictures and closes them into a folder. “So I have some news,” she begins, and my stomach instantly drops. “First of all, I wanted to say that it’s been great to see you getting on so well with Mitch these past months.”

---