Unveiled(104)
“Elaborate,” he orders.
I sigh, letting Miller lead me to the kitchen table and sit me down. “She knew Charlie wasn’t good news. She knows he has something to do with you two.” I wave a finger between William and Miller. “She knows everything.” William’s face tells me he already knew that. “She’s going to have a snooze now, and when she wakes up, she wants everyone to stop treating her like she’s stupid.”
William lets out a nervous bark of laughter, as does Gregory. I know what they’re thinking, or at least thinking beyond their initial shock at this news. They’re thinking that this is way too much for her to deal with, especially since she’s just been discharged from the hospital. I haven’t the first idea if they’re right. Have I underestimated her? I don’t know, but one thing I do know is that I’m about to put their current shock to shame. “She knows my mum is back.”
Everyone in the room gasps.
“Oh Jesus,” Gregory breathes, rushing across to me, crouching to give me a cuddle. “Oh baby girl. Are you okay?”
I nod into his shoulder. “I’m fine,” I assure him, no matter how not fine I am. I let him coo and fuss over me, stroke me and kiss my head repeatedly. And when he pulls away from my seated form, he gazes at me for an age, all fondly. “I’m here for you.”
“I know.” I take his hands and squeeze, then use the opportunity to gauge the faces of the two other men in the room after my shocking news. William has a strange combination of awe and worry on his. And when I look to Miller, I see… nothing. He’s poker-faced. His aloofness has fallen into place, but I can see something in his eyes, and I study them forever trying to figure out what it is. I can’t.
I stand up, making Gregory sit back on his haunches, and approach Miller. His eyes follow me until I’m before him, nearly touching his chest, looking up at him. But he doesn’t take me in his embrace, nor does his straight face crack.
“I need to go home,” he whispers.
“I’m not leaving.” I make myself clear before he starts with the demands. I’m not leaving Nan or this house until this is over.
“I know.” His easy acceptance startles me, yet I keep my composure, not willing to expose any more weakness. “I need…” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “I need to be at home to think.”
I want to cry for him. He needs his calm and normal to pull his thoughts together. His world has exploded into chaos, and he looks as though he could give under the pressure. I understand, really, I do, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s devastated. I want to be the one to settle him—me in his arms, me in his thing. Now’s not the time to be selfish, though. It isn’t just Miller who finds solitude when we’re immersed in each other.
He clears his throat and looks across the kitchen. “Give me the package he left for me.” A brown padded envelope appears to the side of me, and Miller takes it without a thank-you. “Watch her.” Then he turns and walks out. I watch his back disappear down the hallway, followed by the soft closing of the front door. I’m missing him already, and he’s been gone for only two seconds. My heart feels like it’s slowing, and stupid as it might seem, I feel abandoned.
I feel lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A hot shower can settle my nerves only so much. When I get out, the house is quiet. After popping my head around the door to check on Nan and finding she’s still sleeping, I follow my feet to the kitchen. Gregory is standing over the stove, stirring something in a pan. “Where’s William?” I ask, joining him by the cooker.
“He’s taking a call outside.” The wooden spoon bashes against the side of the pot, flicking some of the contents up the tiles on the wall. “Shit!”
“What’s that?” I screw my nose up at the brown slop being frantically whipped around. It looks disgusting.
“It’s supposed to be potato and leek soup.” He drops the spoon and steps back, taking a tea towel up to his brow and wiping it. “Nan will be horrified.”
I force a strained smile, noticing blobs of goo on both of his cheeks. “Here.” I take the towel and set about wiping him down. “How did you manage to get it all over your face?”
He doesn’t answer, just lets me do my thing, standing quietly watching me. I take far longer than is necessary, until I’m sure I’ve rubbed blisters into his cheeks. Anything to avoid the inevitable. “I think you got it,” he murmurs, taking my wrist to stop my cleanup operation.
My eyes flick warily to soft browns, then drop to the white T-shirt covering his broad chest. “And here.” I reclaim my hand and start to rub at his chest, but I’m stopped before I can rub him red-raw there, too.