Page 24 of Burning Embers
“Yes,” I say, frantically moving past him to run downstairs. “Oh, my god, this is all my fault. It’s been so long since I slept in a bed. I didn’t hear her.” I run to the front door to see if its bolted.
“They’re all locked,” he says from somewhere behind me, an air of worry laced behind his words.
I need to check it for myself, and sure enough, it’s locked. I’m spinning back around as he rushes to the kitchen, stopping so suddenly, I collide into his hard back.
“What?” I ask in a strangled panic, then push him to the side, my eyes darting over the room. He grabs my arm, stilling me, and points.
Small feet poke out from under the countertop. I leap forward and crouch down, putting my hand to my chest. She’s curled up next to Buster, sleeping. I fall back on my haunches and cry.
Olly kneels beside me. “She’s okay,” he says, rubbing my back. I nod and wipe my face. “What did you mean? About sleeping in a bed…”
I fall to my bottom and bring my knees to my chest, keeping my eyes on Molly, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “I sleep on my sofa. I wanted her to have her own room and the spare room—well, box room—you’ve seen it. Harry Potter had more space under the stairs. And it’s the space I use to paint.”
He doesn’t say anything as he crawls forward, and in one swift movement, he scoops Molly into his arms and stands, Buster wagging his tail.
“Good boy, stay,” he says, and the dog lies back down, his eyes watching as Olly heads towards the stairs. I scramble up and follow him.
She hasn’t even stirred. I watch Olly from the doorway as he carefully lays her down and steps back.
“I’m so sorry for waking you,” I say, feeling like an absolute fool. He gently takes me by the elbow and pulls me back out onto the landing.
He scrubs his hand down his face. “Don’t be ridiculous, and of course you should’ve woken me.”
I cross my arms and can’t help my roaming eyes as they take in his torso. He has tattoos all over—almost a full sleeve on one arm, some others just over his ribs—a kaleidoscope of colour and intricate artwork. My fingers move of their own accord and trace the lines, names, scars.
“What happened?” I meet his gaze. “Sorry it’s none of my business,” I say, pulling my hand away, but his fingers wrap around my wrist.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind you asking. At least you didn’t look repulsed,” he says. “I was burnt in a house fire trying to get my little sister out.”
I suck in a breath, my eyes darting to his, no longer surveying his upper body. My hearts clenches.
“She was fine,” he replies. “But me—not so much.” He let’s go of my wrist, and I place my palm on his chest. He shivers.
“Olly, I happen to think you’re perfectly fine as you are.” I go up onto my tiptoes, place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and step back. “Goodnight. Thank you,” I say and turn back to Molly. When I look over my shoulder to close the door, he’s standing still, watching, his eyes sparkling with a lopsided smile on his face.
The door closes with a soft click.
Chapter Seventeen
RACHEL
I glare at my latest pile of bills and sink in the chair at the table. I have one piece of art left to sell, but with my website being out of commission, and eBay being so hit and miss, it’s not making it any easier to find a buyer.
If I can’t get my car fixed, I can’t get to work, can’t get Molly to and from school. It will be near impossible. I already sold the TV but made sure to keep the tablet for Molly so she could at least still watch her programmes.
All the expensive bags and shoes I purchased over the years, I’ve since sold. And now this—my last resort. I finger the watch on my wrist, knowing what I need to do.
I only have to wait six more months until my twenty-fifth birthday, then the money my Nan left me will be released. Marcus doesn’t get it. He’s swanning around like a bachelor. He treats Molly with outfits here or there, and toys, but no help financially with our cost of living. He’s never given me maintenance, and the last thing I want is for her to appear like she’s some kind of transaction. But he is her father, and maybe it’s time he understood the full extent of his responsibilities.
I send him a quick text.Call me as soon as you’re free.
Which means if I’m lucky, he’ll ring me on Sunday.
Resigned, I grab my bag and keys. I could get the bus to the high street, but I’d rather keep that money to treat Molly to a Happy Meal. She never asks me for anything, but I know how much she loves a she loves them.
It takes me just under an hour to walk to the pawnbrokers. I ring the bell, wait for the click release of the automatic lock, and then push my way into the air-conditioned shop.
I walk up to the counter and smile when I see Ralf. “Hi,” I say, plastering on a fake smile.
