Page 28 of The Loneliest Number (The Thirst Trap #3)

Chapter twenty-five

Abby

I head back to my place after breakfast with Cam the next morning.

He woke me up with his face buried between my thighs, which I’ll be honest, made me rethink my whole not-usually-staying-the-night thing.

Once I’d seen stars, he ordered room service breakfast, and I put away a full English before we left together.

He headed down to his van to work at The Juniper and offered me a lift back to mine, but it’s a stunning day and I wanted some fresh air.

Is it that, Abby? Or are you still keeping him at a distance?

I sigh, shaking my head to dispel the thoughts, and try to be mindful of the walk and not end up in my own head.

I have the day off work. Two days in a row feels like a luxury, but then I’ll be working every evening this week and the weekend, so I’ll take this respite while I have it.

I need to head back to my place and see if Mum is still kicking around and find out what the hell she wants, and then I want to go to the gym.

I check the time on my watch. On Mondays, I normally hit the gym at lunchtime with Jack—Cass and Tom’s partner—as we’re spotting buddies for each other.

I didn’t see him last week, so it’s been a while.

I jog up the steps to my bedsit and unlock the door, wondering what I’ll be walking in to.

The door swings open, and I enter, looking around.

Did she tidy? Weird. When she stays, her stuff is usually thrown all over the place, but her things seem to be packed into a holdall which sits on the messy bed.

Okay, so she hasn’t completely turned into Martha Stewart—the bed is still a massive mess.

“Mum?” I shout.

“Out in a minute,” comes the call from the bathroom. I head over to the kitchen and grab a drink from the fridge. A few moments later, the toilet flushes before she makes her way out. “Hey, have fun with your friends?” she asks.

“Yep, it was good.” This must be it. She’s tidied, and she’s asking about my life. This is where she asks for money.

“I’m gonna head off today. Thanks for letting me stay. I appreciate it.”

I nod my head, waiting for the question. When it doesn’t come, I ask my own one, “Where are you off to?”

“Remember my friend Janey? She’s got herself a place down South and invited me to go and visit. She’s got a spare room. Said I can stay a while.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Where do you know her from?” I steer gently around what I really want to know…whether this friend is a good influence or a bad one.

“I met her at an AA meeting years ago. She managed to stay on the wagon. Has done alright for herself; managing to hold down a job and get herself a place. At first, she was in a bedsit like this,” she gestures around at my place, “but a bigger place came up recently in the same building, so she was able to move across.”

“Nice. You’re gonna stay with her for a while?”

“I think so. We’ve been talking on the phone on and off for weeks. She says the place she works might have vacancies. She works in a supermarket. Gets a discount and everything.”

This is the most we’ve chatted this visit, and the small talk is driving me insane.

It’s like we are beating around a hundred bushes.

I’m uncomfortable in my own skin while we stand here and pretend to have an ordinary conversation like a normal mum and daughter would when our relationship has never been like that.

“Do you need some money?” It bursts from my lips.

Mum shifts on the spot, and what could be shame clouds her features. “If you have anything spare, I wouldn’t mind borrowing the money for my train fare. And maybe for some food when I get there. Just until I can get settled.” She says it quietly, looking down at her hands clasped together.

“Of course, I’ve got ￡300 in cash. Is that enough?” I ask, wandering over to the kitchen cupboard and pulling the envelope out, stuffed with twenties.

“Well, if it’s spare.” I glance over and she’s still fiddling with her hands, not looking in my direction.

“Hopefully enough to get you settled. And then your friend can help you get that job, yeah?”

“I appreciate it, Abby. I hope you know that.”

“I do, Mum.” I don’t tell her about the other envelopes I have stashed in various places, in case she needs more.

There’s at least a thousand pounds in cash hidden around.

And I’ve always been amazed that she doesn’t seem to snoop when she visits because there’s never been any missing.

“I can send more. If it takes a while to get settled or your friend wants rent, let me know. I can transfer it to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be no need. But thank you. If you have some spare, you should treat yourself.” Her gaze moves around the room. “Get yourself a bigger place.”

I won’t tell her that I don’t want anywhere bigger.

It’s easier to have a small place, so she doesn’t outstay her welcome.

My stomach churns with the guilt I feel for being a shitty daughter, but it’s always been this way.

I’ve always been on my own and done my own thing, and I don’t want anyone else relying on me in the same way I refuse to rely on anyone else. It’s better this way.

“Maybe,” I say with a fake smile, just to get things moving again. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I think the train tickets are cheaper if you buy them online…” Her voice trails off.

“Yeah, usually. What station are you going to?” I pull out my phone and the ticketing app to check the times and prices for her. Neither of us mentions the envelope of cash she stashes in her holdall when I use my bank card to pay for the tickets.

“Well, I’ll head off now. You take care.” She pats my shoulder awkwardly.

“You too, Mum. See you around.”

The bedsit is too quiet once she’s left.

I start a playlist on my music app, putting the volume up as loud as I can without disturbing the neighbours, and make the bed.

It’s only when I’m running my hand over the creases that I decide to strip it and wash the sheets instead.

I chuck them in the wash and then run the vacuum and duster around before tackling the bathroom.

I clean like my life depends on it, singing along to my diva’s playlist while I scrub.

It’s not something I enjoy, but it’s a great distraction when I feel out of sorts on my day off.

If I was working, I’d go in early and do something there.

But I know Tom will growl at me if I turn up on my day off.

Once the place is spotless, I pull out my phone to shoot Cassidy a text:

Me:

Is your gym-obsessed partner going to the gym today?

I’ve got Jack’s number and could text him directly, but I want to check in with Cass. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince her to come along. Her response comes back quickly.

Cass:

He took his gym bag to work so guessing yes. How are you? How was your weekend of debauchery? *eyebrows raised GIF* Got any fodder for my next book?

Me:

It was good. Wanna come to the gym, and I can give you all the dirty details? Ooh, and Saff, Cam’s friend, has read your books! Hoping I can introduce you both next time she visits.

Cass:

*blushing emoji* It’s still strange to know that people I don’t know are reading and enjoying my dirty stories. I’d love to meet her. It’s a no from me for the gym, but could meet you after for a post-workout snack? My workout being wrangling these words into a publishable book.

Me:

You’re on. How about the café at the gym? If you come a bit early, you can ogle your man while he bench presses and squats.

Cass:

Now that’s a fantastic idea. Maybe I’ll come and spectate the whole session and do the editing later.

Me:

Are you going to let Jack know or shall I text him?

Cass:

You text him. I wanna surprise him.

It's a fifteen-minute walk to the gym, which serves as a good warm up. I think about what I want to work on today. Lifting weights. It makes sense when Jack and I can spot each other, and he’s good at urging me on for a few more reps.

Then we can have another race on the treadmill where I can kinda keep up with him, even with his maddening long stride.

I wave hello to the staff behind reception as I tap my membership card and walk the long way to the changing rooms to get a sense of how busy it is.

No sign of Jack yet, so I start with the small hand held weights, working on my arms and shoulders, making a note in an app on my phone of reps and weights.

I’m in the zone when I spot Jack’s reflection approaching in the mirror.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He waggles his brows at me. “Come here often?” he jokes.

“Don’t be a dick,” I counter, which I find myself saying at least once every time I’m in his company. “What’s your focus today?”

“I wanna work upper today. You?”

“That works for me too. And then we could finish with a race again?” I quirk a brow at him, a smirk pasted on my lips.

“Think you can beat me, little lady?”

“I can run faster than you. I just can’t cover as much distance because I don’t have long legs.” I realise I’m pouting.

“Let’s do it.”

We work our way round all the weight machines and spend some time with the free weights before finishing up with the treadmills, running as fast as we can.

I beat him on a faster speed for a whole minute, which gives me the win, and we are both chuckling between gasping breaths as we gradually slow down.

I glance over to the cafe and see Cassidy sitting up at the bench in the window.

She waves before her gaze flicks back to her man and his sweat-stained back.