which I sorely needed to, was go food shopping. Finn assured me it was fine, but I’d eaten his food all week, and he’d refused to take any extra money off me.
By Friday I was determined to do my bit and get groceries on my way home. I’d snagged a couple of Finn’s recipe cards that morning and left him a note not to cook anything as I was going shopping.
Thankfully there was a huge Sainsbury’s at the edge of Finn’s estate, so I didn’t have to go out of my way. It was busy, not surprisingly for a Friday night, but I grabbed a trolley and worked my way through getting what I needed.
Feeling very accomplished and a lot better now I’d replaced a lot of what I’d eaten, I pulled up outside Finn’s house with a smile on my face.
Juggling four shopping bags, I had to knock on the door as my keys were wedged in my back pocket, too much hassle to reach. When Finn answered, I lifted the bags with a grin. “I come bearing gifts.”
He laughed. “Christ, how much have you bought?”
“Just a few bits.”
“So I see.” He stepped back to let me inside and relieved me of a couple of bags. “You’ve um . . . got a visitor.” He nodded towards the living room. “I’ll take these into the kitchen,” he said, reaching for the other bags which I reluctantly let him take.
“Who?” I mouthed, frowning. My mum hadn’t texted to say she was popping in.
“Your dad,” he mouthed back.
Well, fuck.
Way to ruin my evening.
I deflated like a popped balloon.
Finn nudged me gently as he took the shopping into the kitchen. It felt like a show of solidarity, and I wondered what my face must look like to warrant it.
Whatever, I’d take it.
Squaring my shoulders, I kicked off my shoes, hung up my coat, and went to face my dad.
Chapter 5
Finn
Leaving Jasper to go deal with his dad felt a bit like throwing him to the wolves. The look on his face when I’d told him who was waiting wasn’t one I’d forget in a hurry. Cole had said they weren’t speaking, but Jasper’s reaction made me think it was a lot more serious than I’d assumed.
Angus followed me into the kitchen, clearly not liking the atmosphere in there any more than I did.
“Should I go join them?” I mouthed to him, fully deserving his unimpressed look.
Cole had never mentioned Jasper’s dad being violent, but . . .
I shook my head and set about unpacking the shopping under Angus’s watchful gaze. They were only in the bloody living room. If anything kicked off, it wasn’t like I wouldn’t hear them. As it was, I found myself straining to listen.
The louvre doors separating the living room from the kitchen/diner were closed, and I really wished I’d left them open earlier. I could only hear muffled voices, but at least they didn’t sound raised at this point.
Jeez, Jasper had bought enough shopping to last us a week. As I finished unpacking the first bag, I found the tear-off ingredient section for one of my recipe cards and smiled. I loved cooking, even if it was using prepared spices, but doing it for just myself had lost its appeal pretty quickly.
Having someone to share it with had breathed a whole new life into mealtimes. As loathe as I was to admit it, Jasper moving in had been one of Cole’s better ideas. He’d only been here a week, but it felt like so much longer.
The wariness I felt about sharing my home with a stranger had disappeared almost after the first day. Admittedly Jasper wasn’t exactly a stranger, but he wasn’t someone I knew all that well either.
Not at first anyway.
He was so easy to talk to though, I felt we were well on the way.
Guilt niggled at me again for ambushing him with his dad in the living room. I could hardly have not let him in.
Fuck it.
I’m going in.
I tugged open the louvre doors enough to poke my head through. “Sorry to interrupt, but would either of you like a drink?” That was a legitimate excuse, right?
To say the atmosphere was tense would be an understatement. Jasper’s dad had his back to me, so I met Jasper’s gaze and mouthed, “Okay?” He gave me a quick nod in reply, but his body language didn’t set me at ease. He sat rigid in the chair, hands clenched into fists.
“I’d love a coffee, thanks,” his dad