Page 69 of Goldilocks
Goldilocks was pleased because Sam was happy? The simple statement was so sickly sweet, Sam’s stomach filled with fuzz. “I guess being treated nicely makes me happy,” Sam murmured, trying not to be too embarrassed. Goldilocks came out with these statements like it was so easy to say; he seemed to have no concept that laying himself bare like that left him open emotionally to a harsh rebuttal.
Goldilocks’s chest rumbled in a purr, and Sam’s eyes slid shut. He sighed, tired, cosy and warm, and he knew as he drifted to sleep he would be met with pleasant dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morning sunlight filled the sky, diffusing and melting the dawn-dew glinting in the grass. Sam lingered at his front door, a bad feeling skewering his stomach at the thought of going inside. Sam swallowed the welling dread, his eyes prickling with tears as he forced himself to grasp the door handle.
Gravel crunched behind him.
Sam turned with a jerk, watching as a pale blue SUV parked next to his car. It was a brand-new vehicle with windows too darkly tinted to see into, even in the daylight. He waited as the door opened, and Fionn climbed out of the driving seat. He wore a blazing red polo and tan khakis, feet in boat shoes the same pale blue as his car. With a pair of aviators resting in his hair, Fionn looked like he was about to go spend the day sailing, no trace of last night’s accident on him.
Spryly, Fionn approached, brandishing a shopping bag. “I’ve got stuff for you,” he declared.
Sam stared dumbly as Fionn trotted up the front steps and thrust the bag into his non-bandaged hand. “Just some bits.” Fionn shrugged as if it meant nothing, but his cheeks slowly coloured bright red.
“Stuff?” Sam questioned. He didn’t look into the bag but watched Fionn’s complexion change.
“It’s nothing, really. Bandages. A sweater to replace the one that got bloody. Some shoes too, so you can wear something other than black runners to class. Why’d you buy those, anyway? So boring,” Fionn babbled. “I had to go to the nearest shop and buy something before Dad cancelled my card. He thinks it’s my fault the yacht sank.”
Sam stared. “I appreciate the thought, but what—”
“Hello?” Fionn boisterously pushed past Sam, opened the front door and strode inside. “Sam’s dad?” he called. “I’m here to join you for breakfast. I’m starved, so something in the pancakes or French-toast variety would be much appreciated.”
Sam stood on the front step, stunned. Fionn walked fearlessly through the main entrance, peering into the immediate doors, left and right. “I’ll put the kettle on,” he said. Fionn strode through the right doorway into the kitchen.
A moving shadow at the end of the hall caught Sam’s eye. It was cast through one of the open doors, sunlight creating a tall silhouette that covered the hallway floor and stretched halfway up the wall. By the time Sam turned his head, the shadow was gone. The hall was empty. Fionn made noise. Cupboards opening and closing. Cups clicking together. “What do you prefer, sir? Honey or sugar?”
“Honey,” his dad’s gruff voice answered.
Sam stepped inside, unease gripping him. Twisting inside. Winding him higher and higher. His eyes burned as he stood on the threshold of the kitchen. But he couldn’t turn away from the doorway. That moving silhouette. An ache formed in his head, his eyes throbbing like they were being squeezed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fionn at the counter, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he waited for the kettle to boil. His dad was sitting at the table, a book on birds opened before him.
“Sam saved my life last night,” Fionn was in the middle of saying. “Out on the water. I was lucky he came across me. Chances were I wouldn’t get spotted at that time of night, but I did. And I was lucky he’s a nice guy cause I’ve always been a real dick to him, so he could have left me there if he wanted.”
“Sam’s a good kid,” his dad agreed.
“What do you take, Sam? Sugar? Honey? I actually bought some local honey, in case you like that. I tried to get some pastries too, but apparently I’m barred.”
Sam couldn’t look away from the door. “Did you bring your friends?” he asked. But he knew that it wasn’t one of Fionn’s friends.
“No. Of course not. I’m trying to figure out which fuck tried to kill me. I thought about what you said. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all night. It’s weird, isn’t it? Way too weird. The lifeboat wouldn’t inflate, the life jackets weren’t where they were supposed to be, the satellite phone was gone and the radioalsodidn’t work? And it’s a brand-new yacht too! Would you stop standing there and come in?” Fionn ranted, half-manic, his voice certain. “I’m trying to make a list of everyone who hates me that could do it. You don’t reckon Mary would have done it, do you?” He cleared his throat. “Not saying she wouldn’t have been justified or anything.”
“Mary doesn’t know anything about yachts, let alone how to sink one,” Sam replied.
“She does have the temper for murder,” his dad weighed in.
“A temper is right,” Fionn muttered. “Sam, come on, I’ve apologised. You don’t need to stand there. Let’s have some tea and chat? You can help me brainstorm.”
Sam stayed rooted to the spot. Every instinct in his body screamed to keep that open door at the end of the hall in his view. A similar screaming instinct demanded he get out of there immediately.
Fionn marched over to him.
“Look, I—”
Sam blindly reached. He caught Fionn by the collar of his polo and dragged him over.
“I apologised. Or maybe I didn’t say the words?”