Page 44 of Saving Ren
“I meant a hot drink, tea, coffee, Milo, definitelynotalcohol.”
“Oh,” I say quietly before shaking my head.
“I’m good, thanks. I’d really appreciate a quick shower and some clean clothes if you have something I could borrow though?”
His arms are folded across his chest as he watches me for a moment, and I wonder what he must see, what he must be thinking.
“What?” I decide to ask.
“I’m tempted to go back to Jo’s while you shower and beat the fuck out of your husband for this.”
“Gabe. . .” I start to protest, but he keeps talking.
“I can’t comprehend any man doing this to a woman, let alone a husband to his wife. I just can’t,” he says with a shrug. “I really wish you’d go to the police. . .”
He must see my shoulders slump and hear the defeated sigh I release because he steps towards me with his arm held out before stopping and dropping it back at his side.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it’s just. . .”
“It’s my boys. He’ll lose everything, and I can’t do that to my boys. Ryder, my youngest, works for him, and if Sonny ever comes back to Australia, he probably will too. I can’t do that to them, not when they don’t even know what’s been going on.”
He nods. “Fair enough, but don’t be surprised if they’re pissed off when you tell them the reasonswhyyou didn’t have him arrested. If my dad ever did anything like this to my mum, I’d fucking kill him.”
“I get that, and I fully expect them to be pissed off with me, but until I’ve spoken to them, that’s the way it’s going to be.”
Brushing his palm over his jaw, I can see the debate going on in his head as to whether to say any more, reflected in the way he’s looking at me. Instead, he changes the subject.
“Bathroom’s this way. I’ll put you in my bed tonight, and I’ll take the sofa. . .”
“No, that’s not fair, I’ll take the sofa.”
“It’s not up for debate, Lauren. I’ve got three spare bedrooms downstairs, I could sleep in any one of them or put you down there and sleep in my own bed if I wanted.” I open my mouth to ask why we don’t just do one of those things, but he puts his hand up in a halt gesture.
“I want you close. You’re in a strange house with a lunatic running around looking for you. If shit goes down, I want you close. That’s it, no arguing.”
I shrug and nod. I’m exhausted and have no more debate left in me.
“It’s this way.”
I follow him through an opening into a hallway off the dining area. There’s a set of double doors towards the front of the house, a single door towards the back.
“Bedroom.” He points to the doors towards the front. “My office.” He points to the back.
We enter his bedroom, and when he flips on the light, it’s not at all what I’m expecting to find. A huge mango wood and rattan headboard sits at the top of his timber-framed bed. There are matching side tables, a low but long six-drawer unit on the wall opposite his bed, with a large flat-screen telly mounted on the wall above it. The walls are all painted in what I know because of my job, is Dulux, White Beach Quarter. The floor-to-ceiling timber doors at the end of the room have off-white shears hanging from a chunky gunmetal rod in front of them. They’ve been dyed to match the paintwork exactly.
“Ensuite’s through here, walk-in is behind the bed.” I follow the direction he points. “I’ll find you something to put on, then leave you to shower. Sal, my cleaner, put clean sheets on the bed yesterday. I did sleep in it last night so I’ll change them if you’d. . .”
“No, no. It’s fine. Honestly.”
He pushes his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. The action makes him appear so young and boyish. I inwardly cringe at the mess I must look.
“I’ll, just erm. . .” I point towards the ensuite.
“Yeah, right. Sure. I’ll find you something to put on.”
I head into the bathroom, which is as gorgeous as the bedroom. Mango wood cabinetry, white tiles, gunmetal tapwear. I need to find out who did the interiors for him because I love their work.
“Lauren?”
