Cuts Like An Angel (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Josh

Josh’s stomach twisted with cold relief and the feeling of
oh my god
. She was coming to his home.
His
home. William thrashed around for the helm in his mind, pushing at him. He’d been doing that a lot lately where Rosie was concerned. They’d become separate entities fighting over the reins of the body.
Will we cut shit out of our arms tonight because a pretty woman wants to come to the house and we know she’ll leave? Or will we smile, grab her hand and lead the way with nothing but confidence?

No way was Josh going to let William near her, though. Sure as shit, he’d find a way to fuck it all up. Josh would be the one to hold her hand as she walked into his life. He wanted to hold it now as she went ahead of him, a slight skip in her step. He was on air himself, his mind as giddy as a boy who had just asked the popular girl out and she had said yes.

Rosie had parked her car at the bottom of the bridge. An old thing. Did her family really have money? If they did, why were they letting their daughter travel around in something that could be labelled hazardous?

Rosie unlocked the driver’s door and opened it. It squealed loudly and Josh laughed. “I forget, is that Harry or Larry?”

She stared at him with a frown on her face.

“The dinosaurs in your door?”

She let out an open mouthed laugh. “God you remembered.”

“Course I did.”

“Larry, I think,” she said, standing in thought.

William grabbed the top of the door and rocked it back and forth, sending metal on metal shrieks through the quiet evening.

Rosie fought to hold it still. “Stop it,” she laughed.

“Shush.” He removed her hands from the door and leaned his ear in. “It’s talking to me. Telling me all your secrets.” He nodded, pretending to have a conversation as he made the door squeal and creak.

“Josh, stop it,” she cried breathlessly laughing. “It’s not funny.”

He straightened, solemn. “Poor Harry.”

“Larry.”

“Oh, so you remember his name?”

Rosie grabbed the door, tight with both hands. She planted her feet with a serious expression on her face, but the light in her eyes, the laugh just behind them, threatened to break in a moment. Her lip quivered in effort to hold a firm line of adamancy.

“This is how it’s going to be, is it?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

He rested his hands on top of hers and gently shook the door. “Spoilsport girlfriend? You going to be one of these girlfriends who makes me stand up straight, wear the right clothes? Make me call our first born Bartholomew? You’ll have me answer the phone saying,
Smyth Residence?
”

“Your surname is Smyth?” she asked, widening her smiling eyes at him.

“No, but sounds better than Carter ... or maybe you’ll have me say Cartier?” he said in his best posh accent, sticking his nose in the air, shoulders straight.

“Yes,” she giggled. “That’s the one, and I’ll have you say,
bloody marvellous
and
jolly good
mate
, at everything we do.”

It was so nice to see her smile. It was so nice to feel his own smile, genuine—it allowed him for a moment to feel joy inside, real joy. “Shall I meet you back at mine? I want to stop at the little all-night shop and grab some marigolds.”

“Marigolds?” she angled her head. “Flowers.”

“No.” he busted out laughing. “You know, gloves that you wear … to wash up?”

Her frown deepened.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just meet at mine?”

She got in her car and pulled the door shut, and then smiled through the window. Josh knocked politely on it, and she rolled it down with giggles and smiles. Bending down, he rested his forearms on the door. He could kiss her right now. He could lean in and do it. Her soft, pink lips, just there. Laughter on them like a fresh morning ready to be taken. He wanted to. He leaned down.

He paused.

He couldn’t just kiss her. He didn’t have that right.  Kissing was what lovers did and she was not that. Not yet. Would she even want him if she wasn’t in shit with her parents?

She seemed to want it. Or was that his head playing wishful tricks on him? William misreading things?  The pull to her lips created a fight inside his head and ended with him doing nothing. The safe thing.

“Thank you, Josh,” she said, offering a soft smile.

He straightened, fighting the urge to just touch her somehow. But instead, he stepped back and watched her drive off. That was best, he was sure. Whatever her reasons, to use him or truly be his friend, his place was helping someone. Helping was his purpose. And he owed that to sweet Rosie.

He rode his bike home, stopping at the small convenience store on the way. Rosie wasn’t there when he returned, and his chest tightened in fear. She should have been here. She should have beaten him. He pulled to a stop, gripping his handle bars, engine still running. What if she had got lost?

Yeah right. Changed her mind and gone home? Tapping his finger against the throttle of his bike he tried to think like a normal person, not like William.

Text her. She might be lost. It was easy to do when every lane looked the same if you didn’t know the kinks and turns in the roads.  He pulled his phone out of his jeans and texted her.

Is everything okay?

He hit send. Headlights lit from behind and he twisted. There she was, smiling and flustered. Josh smiled himself as he lifted the helmet off his head, relief washing through his body.

“I thought you changed your mind or something,” he said cutting the engine as she opened the car door.

“Sorry,” she called. She was all in a tis. Her hair that was neat just before, looked frazzled.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, angling his head.

“Ha funny. People keep asking me that.”

“People?” Josh was confused.

She waved her phone at him. “My friend, William. He just texted me the same thing.”

Josh’s heart thundered in his chest hard enough that it made his head spin.
Shit.

“Just let me text him back,” she said. “He worries, I think.”

Josh said nothing. William said nothing in his head either. He probably knew damn well he was using the wrong phone and could have said so. At realizing his phone would alert him, he fumbled to get it out of his pocket and turn the damn sound off as she clicked, clicked, clicked her message to William. Bloody
William
. He gripped the phone tight. Like he needed to be told anything. He didn’t. Even as he thought that, William stabbed him with an indignant anger.  

“There, done,” she said.

The phone vibrated loudly in his hand, yelling out to her,
he has it. He has it.
But she didn’t notice.

“Is everything okay with you?” she asked idling up to him. “You look …”

“Sorry I …” Yeah, think idiot. “I was just a bit worried you got lost that’s all. Easy to do around here. Never know, could end up at the other side of the country. Anyway …” he swung his backpack off and lifted it. “I bought wine. Rosé.” He held his hand out to her like he had done years ago—it felt like years ago. She took it with ease this time and he laced his fingers through hers.

He unlocked the front door and let her walk in before him. “First door on your left,” he said, directing her toward the lounge. The door to his mother’s room glared at him. A deep set knowing eye burning into his soul, wagging its finger at him and saying it knew what he had done. Behind it … he would face it tomorrow. Before Rosie came to stay properly. “This is the lounge,” he said standing behind her. “The house is still in a bit of a state. I've a lot to get in order since my mother …”

His words trailed off and Rosie’s eyes softened in that sympathetic way. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need sympathy. Sympathy just bled the wound inside his chest that he fought desperately to close up. “It’s just you here?”

“And you,” he said, winking. “Sit down. I’ll get us some glasses and something to eat.”

He backed out of the lounge and grabbed the key in the lock of the door to his mother’s room. Twisting it, he pulled the key out and stuffed it in his pocket. Why he hadn't done that before. Lock her in there until he was ready. She’d not come out and break this for him.

Entering the clean and tidy kitchen was a shock to see, as if someone had come in and done it while he was away. His mind was so used to the shithole his mother had kept in here that he’d managed to wade through it all was hard to believe. 

He brewed a pot of coffee as well as got two glasses for the wine. He wasn’t really sure what Rosie wanted and maybe she didn’t drink. Those Americans were funny, weren’t they? They didn’t seem to drink the same way the English did and maybe she would be offended at his offering. As he waited for the water to heat, he pulled the phone from his pocket.

Everything is great. Are you okay?

William peered around the kitchen door before he replied.

Here too. Perfect. Thank you for talking to me tonight.

Anytime. I’m here if you need me.

Me too. Just call. Enjoy your evening, Rosie.

He turned the phone off and shoved it back into his pocket as the mask inside his mind slid up again and Josh emerged. That was how it felt at least. Like he would walk behind a mask, put it on, take it off. He suddenly caught sight of himself in the mirror over table and saw William, not Josh. He tried to shake it from his mind as he grabbed the tray. He was Josh.

The lounge door creaked and a second later, Rosie appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Anything I can help you with?” she said. “I feel like …I don’t know. Like I should do something.”

“Well,” he said opening the fridge. “I said I would make you a grilled cheese sandwich.” He glanced up at the clock above the back door. It was just after eleven. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Wine or coffee?”

“Wine please,” she said, nervousness in her voice. Maybe she was afraid to ask for it. He poured her a glass and one for himself.

“I hope you like Rosé. I just figured everyone did.”

“Rosé is good.” She remained in the doorway with her glass close to her chest in both hands, watching him as he took out a board and began grating the cheese. He got a bottle of Worcestershire sauce and sprinkled it into the bowl. “What’s that you're adding?”

“This?” He lifted the bottle. “Just the best thing to add to everything,” he said grinning. “Never had it?”

“Not sure.”

William walked over with the bowl and grabbed a pinch of grated cheese. “Taste it.”

She opened and leaned in. His thumb grazed across her top lip and he licked the remaining sauce off right after, eyes on hers as she chewed. “It’s … different.”

“Nice?”

“Great.”

He regarded the flush in her cheeks before returning to his masterpiece. He toasted one side of the bread before adding cheese and pressing them together to toast the other side. Josh kept Rosie in his peripheral view. She took a long swig from her glass, watching him over the rim. He looked at her unable to keep the slight smile off his mouth as he did.

“I thought your house was a mess.”

He scoffed. “You haven’t seen it yet. I have done these rooms so far, and mine. You can take my room. I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No. I couldn’t.”

Josh nodded while flipping the sandwich under the grill. “I insist.”

“Josh …”

“My house, my rules.”

“Oh that’s how it is?”

“Yep, bossy boyfriend role.”

When the sandwiches were made, Josh plated hers up first and handed it to her. He topped up her glass too and his own which he had been sipping away at as he prepared the food. Josh watched her as she lifted her sandwich up. “Smells so good,” she said, her voice soft.

“Try it.”

She picked it up like fine china and bit into it so daintily. “Oh my god,” she gushed around the food. “Shit, sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“You don’t like it?”

“Don’t like it? I've never tasted anything so great. New house rule. You cook.”

“Is that right?” Joy bubbled in his stomach to hear that. Nobody had really eaten his attempts at food, and to have her love it was probably far more amazing than it needed to be.

She took another bite, closing her eyes as she chewed and hhmmmd out her enjoyment of it. “God yes,” she said.

“Well I have to say this is my first.”

“First?”

He grinned with naughty mischief. “Foodgasm.”

She busted out laughing, spitting food all into her hand. “Josh,” she scolded. “You’re a…” she started coughing in her food, laughing and coughing all at the same time.

Josh grabbed a paper towel before she spat her food everywhere. He handed it to her and she wiped her mouth.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she eyed him as he folded another. “That was your fault.”