Page 13 of Cruel Embers
“Nathan.”
Instead of answering her, I ask, “You okay?”
She sniffs, and my back stiffens.
“What is it?”
“I miss you,” she says.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a deep breath.
“But you’re okay otherwise?” I ask.
She sighs down the phone. “Well, I’ve been better.”
I don’t know what she expects me to say. We’ve been over this time and time again.
“Listen, Naomi, if you want help leaving him, we can go to the police. I’m here for you, but other than that, there is no more us.”
She sniffs again, and I press my back against the wall before sliding down and resting my arm over my knee.
“I know I was wrong not to tell you. But we have a connection. You can’t deny that.”
Shaking my head, I clench my fist.
“You made me a cheat. One of the two things I never wanted to be, so no, it’s not okay.”
I would never have been with her if I had known she was with someone, but worse, she’s married. If she hadn’t called me crying, asking for my help, I would have walked away and never looked back.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. I was scared.”
And there it is, right there, the reason I can’t just turn my back on her.
“I know.”
This is why I’m at war with my head and my heart.
ChapterEight
VIOLET
All I wanted to do was go home, put on my onesie, open a bottle of wine, and ignore that I had the worst audition in the history of auditions today. But instead, I promised to stop by my parents’ because tonight I’m not working.
Using my key, I let myself in and drop my bag in the hallway while stripping out of my coat and attempting not to hang myself while trying to detangle myself from my scarf. It might be freezing outside, but it’s as good as the bloody Maldives in my parents’ house.
I blow my hair off my face as I call out, “Mum?”
“In here, love.”
Making my way to the kitchen, I stop as Russet, our British Shorthair, rubs up against my leg, meowing, and I bend down to kiss his head and rub behind his ear. He’s coming on seventeen now.
“Hey, boy,” I say, picking him up and taking him with me.
I pull out a chair at the kitchen table and sit him on my lap, stroking his back and watching my mum as she closes the oven door.
“You are staying for dinner?” she asks as she removes the oven gloves. “I made your favourite; shepherd’s pie.”
I can’t help the sigh that escapes me. “It was Max’s favourite.”
