Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Six

PERRY

We dump the guitar, propped up on a pile of bricks, in a skip. Bright red and shiny, it’s a dented beacon.

James asks me again if I’d want it, but I don’t. Stupid, maybe. No, definitely stupid, but my life with Grant and all that went with it, is behind me and I don’t want any reminder. I try to tell myself it’s about pride, but I don’t feel very proud. James doesn’t try to persuade me otherwise, and I’m sure there’s a hint of approval in his dark green eyes. As we drive away, a quick backwards glance shows the guitar’s already been claimed.

I’ve fallen asleep on the way back, jerked awake as the motion ceases and the engine turns off. We’re back at James’, just a couple of hours after leaving. The enormity of what’s happened, of the deep pit I’ve fallen into and the mountain I have to climb to reach any kind of semblance of a normal life crashes down on me. I begin to shake.

“Let’s get you inside.” James’ voice is calm and in control, as he climbs out of the car. He comes around to my side and opens the passenger door for me, but all I can do is sit here.

“Perry?” He leans in, his eyes clear and assessing. “Come on, you’ve had a shock. Let’s just get you inside, eh?”

I nod. Fast, and over and over, but I still don’t move.

James’ lips form a crooked smile. “I could throw you over my shoulder, it’s one way of getting you to come inside with me, but I think it’d be easier for us both if you make your own way. You can, can’t you?” His brow wrinkles in concern.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He could carry me, I’ve no doubt of that from what I’ve seen today, and I know he’d do it without a second thought, but… I push myself out of the car, and it feels like the hardest, most exhausting thing I’ve ever done.

With one arm slung around my shoulders to keep me steady, the other cradling the books I’ve rescued — the ones Grant’s missed, and not sold on eBay — James guides me the few steps to his door. I lean into him, glad of his strength and the solidity of his presence. It would be easy to get used to, but I mustn’t let myself. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he’s come to my rescue.

He takes me into the kitchen, drenched with summer sunshine, but I can’t stop shivering.

“Sit down.” James eases me into a seat at the table. I do as I’m bid, too numb and tired to protest. It’s easy to do as he says, to just go with that unfussy command, and I let myself give in.

A couple of minutes later, a mug of steaming tea’s placed in front of me.

“Here, drink this.” James’ voice is gentle but it’s impossible to miss the thinly veiled order. I do as he says, take a sip and grimace. It’s thick with sugar and I push away. “Sweet tea’s good for shock, and that’s exactly what you’re feeling now.” He pushes the mug back to me.

I shake my head hard. “No. What I feel is stupid, so fucking stupid.” Add in pathetic, lame and useless, but they’re not nearly enough.

“Yes, I expect you do.”

If his words are meant to startle me, they work, and I jerk my head up to meet his steady green-eyed gaze. Everything about him is calm, controlled, self-possessed and totally unruffled, as if rescuing a homeless drunk, breaking noses, fracturing elbows, and using an expensive guitar as an offensive weapon is an everyday occurrence.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, as I pick up the tea I don’t want. It’s disgusting and syrupy and it makes me want to throw up, but I force it down under James’ unflinching gaze.

“I’ve got every confidence in you.”

He doesn’t elaborate. I consider asking him why, when I’ve got so little confidence in myself.

The kitchen’s warm and quiet and it’d be so easy to lay my head down on the table, or even better, crawl off to the comfy bedroom and bury myself under the light and puffy duvet, but the ring of church bells drifts in on the still air, tolling the hour. It’s two o’clock, and time to go. I push myself up on unsteady legs.

“There’s a toilet down here. Through the utility room.” James jerks his head over his shoulder. I shake my head.

“Thank you, but it’s time I went. I’ve caused you enough trouble already. You’ve been very kind.”

James snorts and all but rolls his eyes. “Do you really think I’m going to let you slink back into that basement you’ve been camping out in? For goodness sake, just sit down before you collapse, and think.” I do as he says without question, because it’s easier. As for thinking, I’m so tired I hardly know my own name.

“Look,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s that classic car purr, the voice that says everything’s being looked after, everything’s in hand, and I give into it

“You’ve nowhere to go. You said so yourself.”

“Not yet, not until Alfie gets back.” Alfie will let me crash with him, no questions asked. Well, I’m not so sure about the no questions. But he has a sofa… A sofa that’s lumpy and a bit smelly…

“And in the meantime, you’ll carry on living in a musty basement, hmm?”

“I’m going to view some rooms, as soon as I get paid. Once I realised what had happened, and what a mug I’d been, I got my pay switched over to an account that’s only got a few quid in it, just to keep it open. At least I made one smart move.”

“But that’s not now, this moment, is it? You can stay here. Give yourself some breathing space and time to get back on your feet.”

My eyes prickle, and I look down, blinking hard. Yes, I need those things and James is holding them out to me, but I also need to push myself and get my life moving. This is a beautiful and comfortable house, and it would be easy to get settled here. His generosity is overwhelming, but I’ve crash landed in his life and I’m realistic enough to know it won’t take long before he finds having me hanging around awkward and irritating. But the thought of the basement…

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate you offering to help me — again.” He answers with a shrug and a hint of his lopsided smile. “If I can stay here short term, it’ll give me time to sort myself out with somewhere, and that doesn’t include the basement, I promise.”

“Good, then that’s settled,” he says, voice crisp and clipped. “For now, you need to sleep. I’m guessing you’ve not slept well in weeks?”

I shake my head, and he jumps up and rummages under the sink, emerging with a first aid box which he clicks open.

“Here, this’ll help. It’s a mild sedative, that’s all, nothing you can’t get over the counter. Go on, you need to get your head down. You know where the bedroom is.”

It’s only mid-afternoon, but I’m tired, more tired than I can ever remember being, so I do as I’m told because it’s easier than arguing, which I haven’t got the strength for at the moment.

“Thank you. For… Well, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a light smile as I get up and stagger out of the kitchen, too numb and too weary to even try and think.

Back in the comfortable bedroom, I pull the curtains closed to block out the bright sunlight. Moments later I’m burrowing under the duvet, drawing it up over my head as I let myself sink into the dark warmth where everything’s quiet and safe.

Just a few nights… maybe a week or two…that’s all…