Page 79 of Not That Complicated

I wanted to slap myself. I really did.

When had this become acceptable? I was always asking for Adam.

I sounded like a child who’d biked over to his friend’s house, tossed his bike on the lawn and scrambled breathlessly up to the front door to ask if his buddy could come out to play, like I used to do when I was ten.

When I was actually ten, if I’d cycled over to Adam’s house to ask if he could come out to play, his mother would have said, sorry, he’s due for a nappy change/he’s breastfeeding/he’s still in my uterus.

I went lightheaded at the thought.

What was Idoing?

What the hell was I doing?

I’d come back to find Adam. I’d come here to seduce him or, more realistically, to let him seduce me.

Because it felt inevitable. He was everywhere. He wanted it, I wanted it, we were both adults. And yet, what with the second body, the serial killer accusations, and my apparently overwhelming need to have someone lie on top of me (what was even up with that), I’d managed to let my reservations fade into the background.

Just because it felt inevitable, it didn’t mean it was.

I couldn’t have sex with Adam. He’d become familiar because he was always around. He was always around because he wanted me, and he was a scarily perceptive man. He knew my resolve to keep him at arm’s length was crumbling.

He was still the problematic guy who was way out of my league.

No matter how much I wanted (I wanted, my god I wanted) to have him and let him have me, it was a terrible idea.

Sex with anyone was a terrible idea right now. Let alone with Adam, who would, I was sure, ruin me for all other men.

“Adam’s off until tonight,” the receptionist said.

“Great. That’s...that’s great, yes, thank you.”

I headed up to my room and whisked around, packing my stuff. Ten minutes later, I was back in the foyer.

“You want to check out now?” the receptionist said. “You’ve paid for two nights.”

“Yes, right now.” I tapped the desk with a nervous forefinger. “You know what, can we go a little faster? I’m in a hurry. Quicker would be better.”

She kept her professional face on as she totalled up the bill and charged my card.

I didn’t even check the total. I snagged the receipt from her hand as quickly as possible and bolted.

I was not running away.

That’s not what this was.

Possibly you could interpret it as being conflict avoidant, but once again: dead bodies in my house. I think I deserved to avoid any more conflict.

The real issue was, I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t afford the astronomical cost of an open-ended hotel stay. I didn’t know if the police had some sort of fund out of which they paid for people they’d ejected from their murder houses to stay somewhere else or not. Knowing my luck, if they did, they’d either put me right back here, or in a shithole of a B&B.

There was only one place left to go.

My parents.

It wasn’t until I was halfway there that I wondered if I was allowed to.

I pulled over into a lay-by and called Liam.

“No, Ray,” he said by way of greeting. “Astonishingly enough, we’re not done yet.”

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