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CHAPTER FIVE

Lost

“ I am so sorry about Steve!” I exclaimed as soon as Pete opened the door. I didn’t even give him a chance to let it sink in that it was me leaning drunkenly outside the door of the apartment.

Pete looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my boobs before flitting down to my ankle, all strapped up in the compression bandage.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured. “How’s your ankle, gorgeous? That was a nasty fall.”

Pete crouched down and rested my right foot in his hand. His fingers trailed up my calf, sending delightful little shivers all the way through me. He looked up, his brown eyes blazing.

“I just feel really bad that Steve yelled at you,” I persisted. I vaguely registered the slurring in my voice. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

I tried my hardest to look sexy, despite the swollen ankle, the crutches, and the drunkenness.

Pete stood up and held the door wide open for me. “I can think of something you might be able to do.”

I shambled through the doorway, taking the initiative and heading straight for the bedroom. I sat down on the edge of the bed, propping the crutches against the wall and tearing off my singlet and bra .

Pete leaned against the frame of the door, watching me with his arms folded across his chest, a hot smile on his face. I pouted at him, sitting in my shorts and beckoning to him with one finger.

He walked over to the TV cupboard at the foot of the bed, where I could see an iPad, Pete’s phone and a whole bunch of the usual mess of a person who has been living out of a suitcase.

I watched, vision blurry, as he fiddled with something on the cupboard, and when he turned around, music was playing quietly in the background.

“Nothing like some tunes to set the mood,” he purred as he pushed me back on the bed, and I forgot about everything else.

There was light streaming in through the open blind when I woke up. My mouth tasted like bile, and my head and my ankle were throbbing like nobody’s business. I had that dreadful moment where I was completely disoriented.

“Oh, God, where am I?” I grunted, sitting up, and then wishing I hadn’t when the room spun.

“Well, good morning sleepy!” Pete greeted me from the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs, a glass of water in one hand. He held it out to me, and I took it gratefully, guzzling it down greedily.

“Easy there, tiger!” Pete chuckled, taking the glass from me and kneeling down beside the bed.

I blushed, realising that I was naked. It was stupid – I’d been naked the whole night.

I winced as some of the things we’d done last night came back to me in mortifying bursts.

And then I winced some more as the throbbing in my ankle intensified.

I looked down. Pete was very gently unravelling the compression bandage from my ankle, returning my gaze with a soft smile.

“I know it hurts, gorgeous, but if you want to take a shower the bandage has to come off. You want a hand to get in there?”

My eyes started to water. I blinked furiously at the tears, but I couldn’t suppress the surge of gratitude that flooded me. Pete was acting really sweet … why was Pete acting so sweet?

“I think I can make it, if you hand me the crutches,” I choked out.

He stood up and held a hand out to me. I took it and he helped me lever myself off the bed.

He held me steady with one hand while he propped the crutches under my arms. He walked in ahead of me and ran the shower, the steam billowing out.

“There you go,” he said. I handed him the crutches again and hopped into the cubicle. He draped a towel over the top and then left, closing the door behind him.

“Call me if you need me, okay?” I heard his muffled offer through the door.

I sighed, letting the hot water soothe my throbbing head. I opened my mouth and let some water trickle in.

Back in the bedroom Pete had picked up my clothes and had folded them neatly at the end of the bed. That brought on a fresh wave of prickling in my eyes. What had gotten into me? I was on the verge of blubbering for God’s sake!

I sat down on the bed and struggled into my underwear and shorts, clipped my bra back on and dragged my singlet over my head. The compression bandage was rolled up beside me. I picked it up and looked at it. I had no idea how to wrap my ankle properly.

I was about to tuck it into my pocket, hoping that Steve was over his anger and would re-strap it for me when I got back upstairs, or that Joel would know how to do it, when Pete returned, juggling another glass of water and a plate of toast and Vegemite.

He passed it to me with a smile. “I know how much you Aussies like your Vegemite,” he said softly as he knelt down in front of me again, plucking the bandage from my other hand.

“Eat,” he said, and proceeded to strap my ankle up nice and tight. I managed to force down the toast. He’d been a bit heavy handed with the Vegemite, but I could forgive that. No one who wasn’t a true Aussie knew how to spread the mightiest of ‘mites.

Ankle all strapped, he stood up. He was dressed now in his tennis gear. Of course, he had his semi-final this evening. He would be heading over to prepare .

I finished off the last crust of toast, and Pete helped me to my feet, taking the plate into the kitchenette. I put the crutches under my arms and headed towards the door.

“Thanks for this morning,” I murmured to him as he came up behind me. I felt his lips on the back of my neck.

“No, gorgeous, thank you for last night!” he sighed with feeling. His hands snaked around my middle, and he leaned closer to kiss me on the cheek. “I’ll be remembering it until the next time I see you. Are you still in Melbourne tonight?” I heard the hope in his voice and I giggled.

“We’re booked until the end of the Open, although Steve might change our plans now,” I replied. “Why? Do you want me to come down again tonight?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” he groaned against my skin, his lips on my shoulder. “If I win, I can’t think of a better way than celebrating with you, and if I lose … well, you can help me forget about it.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Good luck this evening.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. He opened the door and let me out into the deserted corridor, blowing me a kiss before closing the door behind me.

With a grin on my face, I made my way towards the elevator.

The doors slid silently open on the seventeenth floor and I staggered out on my crutches. The hallway turned sharply to the right, and our room was at the very end. I pulled my key out of my back pocket, limping down the hall.

The door wasn’t fully closed. Swallowing back the sudden, inexplicable tightness in my throat, I leaned heavily on the crutches and pushed it open.

The apartment was in darkness. All the blinds had been drawn the night before, and I’d switched off the lights as I’d left.

Obviously, Joel wasn’t back yet, or if he was, he’d had such a sleepless night that he’d just gone straight to bed.

Steve was likely sleeping off a hangover.

I moved crutches-first into the gloom. There was a funny smell in the place. In my sensitive hungover state, it made me gag. I reached out to flick on the light switch.

What I saw when the light came on – what was all over the floor, all over the walls, sticking to the bottoms of my feet, took the strength out of my legs.

Then it was dark again. Blessed dark.

My eyes opened. My face was pressing wetly against something sticky and slimy. The smell was overpowering. I swallowed hard and groaned weakly. My body hurt from the fall. How long had I been unconscious?

“Mel? Oh shit, Mel! Thank God! You’re alive!”

“Am I?” I asked, trying to push myself off the floor and sliding in the goo that covered me. “I kind of wish I wasn’t.”

“Don’t move – the ambulance will be here soon,” Joel hissed. I couldn’t see him.

“What happened?” I asked groggily. The sticky, coppery fluid on the floor got into my mouth and I lost it. The toast I’d just eaten came straight back up.

Once it was all out, I managed to push myself up to sit against the wall just inside the doorway.

“I don’t know,” Joel muttered, his voice cracking. I tried to wipe the blood from my face, but I only managed to smear it around more. I focussed on the puddle of vomit near my knee – it was much easier to look at than the body on the floor … Steve’s body.

Joel walked the long way around the prone form of his father, sprawled out in an awkward position, his eyes open and staring sightlessly. It was hard to tell what had happened to him – there was so much blood. I didn’t want to look, but my eyes kept straying back to it.

Joel crouched down in front of me, a tea towel in his hand. He dabbed at the blood on my face, on my arm, on my chest.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice shaking. I shook my head. I didn’t feel like I’d ever be able to talk again.

“Shit, Mel, I thought … I thought you were … I thought they’d gotten both of you.”

I kept shaking my head .

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked again. His hands were trembling. His voice trembling. I reached out one bloody hand and gripped his tightly. He clung on like his life depended on it.

“Is he …?” I whispered. I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Joel turned away from me, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. We both knew, but saying it aloud was just too much. Joel slumped against the wall beside me. I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

God, what have you done? Why would you let this happen? What did Steve ever do to you? He didn’t deserve this!

Suddenly there were people everywhere. I was being lifted onto a gurney and EMTs were checking to make sure that none of the blood that was soaked through my clothes belonged to me.

Joel was having similar treatment. They didn’t even look at Steve.

I wanted to scream at them to check him, to save him, but I couldn’t find my voice.