RivenI thought I’d be able to breathe easy when I finally received a reply from the silent sonofabitch back home. I let out a sigh of fucking relief as his name flashed up, until I saw the ridiculous message.Everything’s fine.Just those two measly words after days of nothing.Like fuck everything’s fine. It’s the most bullshit excuse for a text message I think I’ve ever had from him. I’d laugh at how ridiculous it was if I wasn’t already worried sick about the state of his affairs in my absence.I’ve been trying to ignore it – trying to blank out the prospect of that sappy idiot losing his mind over some pretty piece of trouble while I’m in a different time zone.It’s only when I realise I haven’t registered a damn word in my latest conference session that I call up my calendar and check what events I’d be missing if I left for home early. I curse under my breath, because fucking dammit, there’s at least three presentations I’ve marked on my must see list over the next few days. Bu
AnnaKennedy didn’t come back last night. I thought maybe he’d call or text, but he didn’t. I sat by the landline with his business card in my hand, flipping it over and over and wishing my stupid dumb mouth would open up enough to tell him I’m sorry. But it wouldn’t.I hate TV, so the minute Kennedy left I turned it right back off again. I don’t get why people like the stupid thing so much. Almost every house I’ve ever set foot in has a stupid screen blaring somewhere. I’ve spent loads of time watching people stare at moving pictures on a box like big dumb shits, and I just don’t get it.When you’ve been in foster care as much as I have, you come to know it’s an easy option to palm off every kid that ever wants attention. Why don’t you just behave and watch some TV? Why don’t you sit down in front of the TV and be quiet? Why don’t you just watch the kids channel like every other kid we’ve ever taken care of?Because TV is a fucking life-stealer, you dumbfucks. TV is a fucking sedativ
RivenAnna Josephine is in my fucking living room. Large as fucking life.Her piercing eyes are as wide as fucking saucers, her pretty mouth flapping harder than the bird flapping around the ceiling.My eyes don’t know where to look first, at her, at the crow in my fucking house, or at the state of the place around her. My white carpet is filthy with muddy boot prints. The cushions on my perfect white sofa have been trampled, and they’re covered in mud too. There’s bird shit splattered over the front of my TV, my mantelpiece is in fucking disarray with several of my picture frames smashed on the top.And her, covered in shit, mud and feathers, a picture of horror as she stares right back at me.“The door!” she yells, but I’m too fucking dumbstruck to move. The crow flaps straight over my head and out. She races after it, and I hear her angry wail before I find her in the open front doorway. Her eyes are wild as she glares at me. “You let him out! He needed his foot taking care of and
“Do you have any money?” I look her up and down. It’s a marvel that her beauty shines through the state of her tattered, filthy clothes. Her boots are grubby and old, and I can see a flash of pink sock through a hole in the toe.She shakes her head. “Not yet, but I can earn it. When I get a job I’ll pay you back.”I can’t stand to look at the living room anymore so I step out and close the door behind me. The hall is also covered in boot prints and so is the kitchen. I dare to peek into the dining room and groan in disbelief to see the rainbow shards of what used to be my prized glass sculpture.I hear her footsteps behind me. “I’ll pay for that, too.”I swear under my breath. That sculpture was almost ten grand, a stupidly extravagant purchase at an auction house down in London.I should order her to fuck off out of my house and never fucking come back. I can’t believe she’s even still here, following me around while I uncover more and more of her fucking catastrophe.But Kennedy.Ev
KennedyI should’ve called Anna last night. Or I should’ve at least tried. Even better, I should’ve turned back up at Riven’s and told her I’m not going to be pushed away by her sticking her middle finger up to everyone trying to help. I should’ve told her that if things were different, if I was ten years younger and hadn’t spent the last five months with her on my books, that I’d be falling into bed with her in a heartbeat, for right or wrong.I should’ve told her I care. That I care too much.Riven’s right; this is a midlife crisis and it’s getting the better of me. I can’t get her out of my mind, and it takes every scrap of determination to stay focused on my meetings through the morning, knowing full well she’s at Riven’s getting up to Christ knows what.If she’s even still there.The idea she’s taken off again sends a chill up my spine.I’m talking through career options with a kid called Brooklyn when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I hope it’s her calling. I hope it’s her wh
“This is so fucking out of order,” he snaps and I nod because it is.“I’m sorry,” I say, which is the truth of it. “I was in a corner. I was trying to do the right thing.”“The right thing would have been to book her into a fucking hotel, Kennedy. The right thing would have been to let me know you’re using my fucking house as emergency accommodation. The right thing would have been to fucking tell me you found her in the fucking first place.”I nod through all of it. Yes, yes and more yes.I feel like a fucking idiot, more off the rails than even I fully realised.“It isn’t his fault,” Anna offers and her simple defence makes my heart pang.“It is my fault,” I counter. “This was my decision, Anna didn’t ask to come here.”“The crow’s your fault,” Anna tells Riven and I will her to shut up before she talks herself into a bigger hole than we’re in already. “You need to fix your fucking fence. It’s dangerous.”It’s a three way stand-off, all of us staring and nobody speaking a word.Rive
AnnaPosh guy isn’t so much of a dick as I thought he would be. I normally hate rich people – they look down their noses when I pass them on the street like they’re so much better than me. But being rich doesn’t give you a free pass out of Dumbville. Having money doesn’t make your shit smell any better than mine.I thought I’d hate this guy, Riven, but I don’t. Even though he’s a negligent asshole with his fencing, and his temper is as hot as mine, he doesn’t seem like an absolute total douche.I feel a weird sizzle when he’s close, and it’s not just because he’s a proper man – like Kennedy –but because he’s different to everyone else I’ve ever met. A different different to Kennedy.Kennedy is strong and calm and considered. Kennedy looks at me as though I’m someone who could be somebody someday. He looks at me as though I’m more than my shitty reputation, like I have my own mind and my own brain and my own reasons for acting like I do.Kennedy gives me hope I’ve never dared to have b
RivenI try to work out if they’ve fucked or not. Kennedy’s got stronger control over his fucking dick than I have if he hasn’t fucked the girl already.Whatever heated exchange they’re having on my living room carpet dries up as I return. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife as Anna scrubs the carpet like a lunatic.Oh how quickly things change.This morning I boarded a plane with the sole intention of putting an end to Kennedy’s Anna Josephine insanity for good. This evening I’ve invited the crazy girl to stay in my home, not for Kennedy’s sake, but for hers.Hers and maybe mine.I’m rarely excited by anything, but I’m excited by her.When I was a kid, I loved going to watch daredevil stunts with my dad. I loved the guys on bikes doing flips in the air and the people getting shot out of cannons. I loved magic shows where the pretty assistant always got sawn in half in a box.It always felt so exhilarating – the inevitable buzz of adrenalin that zipped up my spine at the thought