Page 284 of The Black Trilogy

“And your head?”

I knew firsthand what seeing Phillip in his final state could do to a person. I’d sleepwalked every night since I returned to Virginia and destroyed a sofa while I was at it. Jed had that to deal with, plus survivor’s guilt and his own torture.

“Work sent me to see a shrink. Twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.”

“Any good?”

“I guess she helps a little. Are you having dessert?”

“I’m actually quite full now, and you know what they say: a full mongoose is a slow mongoose.”

Rudyard Kipling was a very wise man. I never liked to eat until I couldn’t move.

Jed raised an eyebrow and gave me his dirty smile, the one I hadn’t seen in a long time. “How about a different kind of dessert?”

We didn’t bother waiting for the bill, just flung some cash on the table and ran, well, hobbled in Jed’s case, for the car. The engine screamed, and the Viper took off as I floored it over the bridge a couple of miles from Little Riverley.

Jed laughed and braced himself against the dashboard. “That the best you can do?”

“Nah, I’m saving the best for later.”

The tyres smoked as I accelerated up the driveway and parked in a hail of gravel. I hopped out of the car, metaphorically, and so did Jed, literally, dragging his crutches behind him. We burst in through the front door and Jed eyed up the stairs and then his cast.

“Elevator,” I gasped.

It turned out that with the right incentive, Jed could be remarkably agile even with his leg in plaster, and I sure was smiling by the end of the evening. Oh yeah. Having Jed as a houseguest definitely had its advantages.

And the best part? He didn’t bat an eyelid when I rolled out of his bed and went to my own. He understood me. No questions, no awkwardness.

Exactly what I needed.

Over the next couple of weeks, things started getting back on track. Jed stayed at my place most of the time, ostensibly because of my gym and housekeeper, but we both knew the real reason. Let’s just say more than one person commented on my smile.

Life was…well, not good, but better.

Except I’d forgotten just how sociable Jed could be.

“What on earth’s going on?”

Eight in the evening, I’d been stuck behind a pile-up on I-95 for an hour, and now I’d got home, my lounge was filled with twenty men and a sea of beer and takeout boxes. I could hardly hear myself shout over the ball game on TV.

“I just invited the guys over, darlin’,” Jed said.

“But you forgot to invite me? Or did you just assume I’d come along, seeing as this is my freaking house?”

Bradley threw a pretzel at me. “Take a chill pill, Emmy. It’s only a bit of fun.”

Those words struck fear into my heart. I’d seen the aftermath of Bradley’s fun before.

Nick grinned at me from the couch. “Relax baby, it’s just pizza and a few beers. We’ll clear up after.”

“You won’t clear up. You never clear up.” Nick was the untidiest man I’d ever met. A complete mess. It constantly amazed me that he ever managed to wear clean shirts and matching socks. I suspected he bought them in bulk and binned them once they were dirty. “And it’s hardly ‘just a few beers.’ What did you do, buy a brewery?”

“No, but seriously, that’s not a bad idea.” Nate turned to the rest of the gang from his perch on the coffee table. “Guys, if we all put in a few dollars, we could probably do that.”

Cue an animated but drunken discussion about starting their own beer label until someone scored and their attention turned back to the screen.

“Are you gonna sit down, baby?” Nick asked. “There’s space between me and Jed.”

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