nightmares, dark circles under her eyes and savagely bitten fingernails, and heard the stifled cries through the floorboards. He’d kept an eye on her, but he hadn’t ventured past her bedroom door. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed in your boss’s house, and entering Amy’s room for more than a wake-up call and a cup of tea was out of the question.
‘How about I put the kettle on while we wait for Amy?’ he said gently.
Owain nodded, still pale and trembling. Jason shepherded him towards the living room and made the tea, adding an extra spoonful of real sugar to Owain’s. He took it silently and stuffed a chocolate digestive in his mouth, like a small child at his nan’s house.
Jason watched him, his own hands unable to keep still in his lap. Because for all his protests to Amy, despite everything he thought he could make of himself, he still led with his temper, choosing the physical over the mental to solve a problem.
No wonder Amy couldn’t trust him with peanuts. Jason wasn’t even sure if he could trust himself.
Chapter 10
Two pairs of eyes
Amy washed the sweat from her skin, trying to be rational about Jason and his effect on her. She was used to struggling on with a head full of cotton wool, from the depression or the panic, lack of caffeine or a little too much red wine. But for another person to put her in a spin like this … The last person to have that kind of hold over her had been her mother, that raging hatred that had consumed her teenage years until she had finally escaped from her.
Stealing from her parents was the best day’s hacking she’d ever done and she refused to regret it. The insurance company had coughed up, her father had changed his passwords to another predictable set of cricketing highlights, and they had all moved on with their lives. Except Amy and her sister were five million pounds richer.
Their parents had never found out who stole the money. Just as they had failed to notice Grandma’s fading memory, leaving the old woman to raise two young girls. Leaving Amy and Lizzie to bury their grandmother. It was only when Lizzie had reached out to them earlier in the year that they even knew what had happened to their daughters. Their father had assumed it was being ‘taken care of’, like so many little things. His mother’s memory. Lizzie’s education. Amy’s fragile mental health.
Rinsing the bitter taste from her mouth, Amy pushed the past away and boxed it up inside her. It would keep. Back in her room, she threw on whatever was to hand and headed for the living room.
She stopped short at the sight of Owain on the sofa. He was staring into his mug, looking both lost and hopeful that the tea would somehow hold the answers.
‘Owain’s brought his laptop,’ Jason said, from the kitchen doorway. ‘To help with the CCTV.’
She heard the hesitancy in his voice, with an edge of anger. He wanted her to intervene, to drag Owain back from wherever he had fled. But, if she let Owain in, she would be admitting that she could share her work – just not with Jason.
Amy was torn. Jason was her assistant, her best friend. But Owain needed a purpose, needed to keep moving in case he realised that in stopping the world had changed irrevocably. She recognised that look from the mirror. Maybe she could fix him in a way she had never managed for herself?
But before she could answer, Owain was unpacking his laptop and he’d lost some of the shadows from his face, his eyes. He almost looked like himself again. Amy knew exactly how much the work was therapy. Could she deny him that?
‘What about me?’ Jason asked.
She tried not to hear the hurt in his words. ‘You were going shopping. For Cerys.’
Owain slumped, head bent over his laptop though she knew he was listening intently. Whatever was off between Owain and Cerys, it wasn’t due to a lack of feeling on either side.
With an aggressive glare at Owain, Jason picked up some bags from the cupboard and made for the
‘How about I put the kettle on while we wait for Amy?’ he said gently.
Owain nodded, still pale and trembling. Jason shepherded him towards the living room and made the tea, adding an extra spoonful of real sugar to Owain’s. He took it silently and stuffed a chocolate digestive in his mouth, like a small child at his nan’s house.
Jason watched him, his own hands unable to keep still in his lap. Because for all his protests to Amy, despite everything he thought he could make of himself, he still led with his temper, choosing the physical over the mental to solve a problem.
No wonder Amy couldn’t trust him with peanuts. Jason wasn’t even sure if he could trust himself.
Chapter 10
Two pairs of eyes
Amy washed the sweat from her skin, trying to be rational about Jason and his effect on her. She was used to struggling on with a head full of cotton wool, from the depression or the panic, lack of caffeine or a little too much red wine. But for another person to put her in a spin like this … The last person to have that kind of hold over her had been her mother, that raging hatred that had consumed her teenage years until she had finally escaped from her.
Stealing from her parents was the best day’s hacking she’d ever done and she refused to regret it. The insurance company had coughed up, her father had changed his passwords to another predictable set of cricketing highlights, and they had all moved on with their lives. Except Amy and her sister were five million pounds richer.
Their parents had never found out who stole the money. Just as they had failed to notice Grandma’s fading memory, leaving the old woman to raise two young girls. Leaving Amy and Lizzie to bury their grandmother. It was only when Lizzie had reached out to them earlier in the year that they even knew what had happened to their daughters. Their father had assumed it was being ‘taken care of’, like so many little things. His mother’s memory. Lizzie’s education. Amy’s fragile mental health.
Rinsing the bitter taste from her mouth, Amy pushed the past away and boxed it up inside her. It would keep. Back in her room, she threw on whatever was to hand and headed for the living room.
She stopped short at the sight of Owain on the sofa. He was staring into his mug, looking both lost and hopeful that the tea would somehow hold the answers.
‘Owain’s brought his laptop,’ Jason said, from the kitchen doorway. ‘To help with the CCTV.’
She heard the hesitancy in his voice, with an edge of anger. He wanted her to intervene, to drag Owain back from wherever he had fled. But, if she let Owain in, she would be admitting that she could share her work – just not with Jason.
Amy was torn. Jason was her assistant, her best friend. But Owain needed a purpose, needed to keep moving in case he realised that in stopping the world had changed irrevocably. She recognised that look from the mirror. Maybe she could fix him in a way she had never managed for herself?
But before she could answer, Owain was unpacking his laptop and he’d lost some of the shadows from his face, his eyes. He almost looked like himself again. Amy knew exactly how much the work was therapy. Could she deny him that?
‘What about me?’ Jason asked.
She tried not to hear the hurt in his words. ‘You were going shopping. For Cerys.’
Owain slumped, head bent over his laptop though she knew he was listening intently. Whatever was off between Owain and Cerys, it wasn’t due to a lack of feeling on either side.
With an aggressive glare at Owain, Jason picked up some bags from the cupboard and made for the
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