game. Sometimes I ask myself why we didn’t listen to him. He never looked at me or Jem the same way again, but he was always okay with you, Thames. I never understood why. Any clue?”
The ventilation in prison had been non-existent. The smells were so pungent, of men and musk. It was a microcosm of filth and staleness. You never got used to that stench. When he woke up, he’d forgotten where he was, and he didn’t feel right. The smell was all wrong. The air was too fresh, tinged with the hint of lavender and fruit; he’d forgotten what those smelled like.
He opened his eyes and he wasn’t greeted with darkness. It was so bright; he could almost taste the sunshine. Blinking, he glanced around the empty room, very slowly putting together the pieces. His body was sore, but not the kind of sore he was used to.
“Char?” he whispered, searching for her.
He couldn’t feel her presence. She had left the room and he hadn’t heard her. Slowly, he sat up, forcing his weak bones to move. It took everything in him to slide off the bed and stand. He meandered to the large window overlooking the neighbourhood, aware he was stark naked in the light. The streets were barren, not a soul present. He spread his arms out, placing his hands on the cool window and closed his eyes again, enjoying the heat on his skin. He felt like a lizard perched on a rock, sunning himself. His bones were rigid and cold, the kind of cold the sun couldn’t warm.
Thames opened his eyes and surveyed what he could see of the neighbourhood in the light of day. It was a classy suburb. The kind you’d want your kids to come home to after school, but also the kind parents had to slave for to make the mortgage payments.
How much money was Locke paying Charlotte?
And since when had Charlotte opted for the suburban life? She had always liked being on the fringes of society, never permanently marked.
Then again, Charlotte was nineteen when he got locked up. Nineteen. Jesus, it seemed all wrong now looking back. He should have stayed away, or at least have been the kind of guy to set an example for her.
In the bathroom, she had put aside a new toothbrush for him. He made quick work of his teeth, ignoring his reflection the entire time. He couldn’t stand to see the marks and ink on his body. He had a quick hot shower, addicted to the blazing heat on his flesh. He scrubbed his body everywhere, enjoying the scent of sex, the scent of Charlotte’s sweet pussy before it washed away. When he got out, he lazily threw on the clothes she had set aside for him and stepped out of the bedroom quietly.
He felt like an awkward guest. The house was completely silent. He walked down the hallway where the staircase was and paused at the top. His gaze was on the bedroom next to it, door slightly ajar. He didn’t know what prompted him to look in. Basic instinct maybe because he had an idea what he would find. He closed in on the door and peered through the crack, his insides at once seizing at the sight.
A little girl was fast asleep, her long dark hair splayed on the pillow around her head. She was so tiny, wearing light blue pyjamas with yellow ducks all over. There was even a rabbit teddy cradled to her chest. She was clinging to that rabbit like it was a lifeline.
Thames couldn’t breathe. He felt liquid rush to his eyes again. It took everything in him to take a step back when all he wanted to do was burst into the room and hold her. His heart hurt, and right then he wanted to punch his face to knock sense into himself. A flood of enormous regret hit him. If he’d just kept Billy alive, he wouldn’t have been put away for long. He would have been there for her.
The weight in his heart was debilitating. He rubbed his chest, forcing breaths in. Then he lingered at the top of the staircase for so long, trying to calm down. He was tempted to lock himself back in the bedroom and recuperate, but Charlotte was kicking around somewhere.
Right on cue, he heard her voice, distant and jumbled. He followed it downstairs and down a short corridor to the kitchen. As he approached, he heard a