Unplugged (5 page)

“
Yeah. Weird. Anyway, you coming?” asks Bryn.

“
No, staying in St Davids. Doing the family thing this year.”

“
Uh huh.” There’s a pause followed by the real reason he asked me to call him. “Honey with you?”

“
No.”

“
Oh?”

“
Oh.”

I wait for Bryn to determine whether to push the issue as Bryn would, or step down.

He gives me the male ‘get out clause’. “Want to talk about it?”

“
No.”

Ella approaches, stumbling across the wood chip ground toward the bench. Her cheeks are flushed red, hair sticking up from the static of the slide.
“Will you push me on the swings?”

“
Who’s that?” asks Bryn.

“
Who?”

“
Is that a kid?” He pauses. “Liam! Have you got a secret love child?”

What annoys me is he
’s half-serious. “What the fu...” I catch myself. “No, she’s the daughter of a family friend. I don’t have any kids!”

“
Uncle Liam! Swings, please?”

Bryn makes an amused snort.
“Are you at a kids’ playground? Wow, you must really like her mum. Cosy date?”

“
Her mum isn’t here.”

“
Spending the morning at a kids’ playground through choice? Rock and roll, man,” laughs Bryn.

“
Shut up. I’m being nice, her mum’s not well.” Self-inflicted, but not well.

“
Sometimes, Liam, you’re too nice.”

“
Says you.”

“
Not nice enough.”

That
’s an odd thing to say. “Have you planned a New Year’s party yet?” I ask, grabbing at a subject change.

“
Not yet. I need to talk to Dylan and Jem, see if we’re going to have something big at his again.”

“
Okay, I’ll make sure I get to that, let me know.”

“
It’ll be a no kids party, Liam, so leave your little friend at home,” teases Bryn.

“
Yeah, right. You’re funny.”

“
Seriously, though, is there anything you want to talk about?”

Ella hops up and down in front of me, rubbing her bare arms. Did she forget her coat?
“Uncle Liam. Please.”

Bryn laughs raucously down the phone.
“Speak to you later, Uncle Liam.”

I pull my eyebrows together, wondering why I bothered calling him. I knew the reason underneath his contacting me was Honey, but with chicks
, we stay out of each other’s business. Unless you’re Dylan and Jem, but I don’t even want to know what goes on between them and girls.

“
Aren’t you cold? Should we go home?” I ask Ella hopefully. I overestimated the enjoyment level of a trip to a children’s playground in the middle of winter.

She pouts.
“Can I have a little go on the swings? Can you push me?”

Huffing, I stand and tread across the bark
toward the swings. She hops onto one and waits. I scratch my neck and look around. I can’t help but always be on semi-alert for someone with a camera. I guess I’m not exciting enough to be pursued at stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning in the cold.

Ella isn
’t satisfied with gentle swinging and her knuckles whiten, gripping the chain as I push her higher.

What the hell am I doing?

“How high does your dad push you?” I ask.

“
He doesn’t take me to the park.”

“
Oh.”
Weird
. I push her again. “Never?”

“
He’s not home much.”

“
Does he work a long way from home?”

“
No, he likes to go to the gym. And the pub. He sleeps lots because it makes him tired.”

Ella
’s dad doesn’t take her to the park? Isn’t that what dads are supposed to do? She squeals as I push her higher.

“
Do you think he’ll come for Christmas?” asks Ella. “I miss him.”

Oh
, shit.
Now what have I done by mentioning him? “Um. Ask your mum?”

“
I did. She said she doesn’t know.”

Well, how the hell would I know?

“Ella!” A woman’s voice carries through the cool wind toward us.

I look around. Cerys storms across the grass toward me and Ella, holding something blue in her hand. As she approaches
, she fixes me with the same unimpressed stare as I got in the kitchen the other night. Ella has the momentum she wants on the swing and the whole contraption squeaks as she flies above our heads.

“
What do you think you’re doing?” yells Cerys.

“
What?” I ask.

“
You take her out without telling anyone and don’t even put her coat on!” She shoves the blue puffed jacket at me and I grab it in surprise, staring back into the woman’s angry, pink face. She looks up at her daughter. “Well done, you managed to get shoes on her!”

The swing creaks and I step back.

“Ella! Slow down!” shouts her mum. “Didn’t you think how dangerous this is for a four year old?” she snaps at me.

“
It’s a swing!”

“
Look how high she is!”

“
She’s okay.”

“
How would you know?” After another glare, she turns back to her daughter. “Ella! Stop right now and put your coat on!”

Ella stops swinging her legs and her mouth turns down at the corners. She watches her mum warily as the swing comes to a stop. Cerys snatches the jacket back
from me and roughly shoves her daughter’s arms in.

“
I wanted to go to the park!” Ella protests. “And you were asleep.”

“
Why didn’t you tell anyone before taking her? I woke up and she was gone!” Cerys half-shouts at me.

“
Whoa. Okay. Everyone was asleep; I thought I’d help out.”

“
What if something happened to her?”

“
Like what? We’re five minutes from the house. I think you’re over-reacting.”

“
Someone like you doesn’t know how to look after a child.”

“
What do you mean someone like me?” She’s pissing me off now and I wish I’d stayed out of her life.

“
It’s not like you know what to do with them. When was the last time you looked after a kid?”

“
I took her to the playground! What did you think I was going to do? Take her to my drug dealer or leave her with a groupie? For fuck’s sake!” I stomp away, across the grass.

“
Don’t swear around my daughter!” she yells after me.

I stop.
“At least I took her to the park!”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
Ella says her dad doesn’t.”

“
That has nothing to do with you!”

She
’s right. I’ve no idea why I said it. “Fine! I’ll keep away from you both! I just wanted to help.” I continue away from them, muttering expletives under my breath.

Back at the house, I storm around, unable to believe my peaceful family Christmas has led to practically being accused of child abduction. Screw this.

Following terse exchanges with my parents and sister who are leaving for work, I grab my car keys and leave the house. If I see Cerys again in the mood I’m in, I’ll say something that will really piss her off. If she’s staying all fucking Christmas, I need to keep the peace. I could choose to be obnoxious enough to make her leave, but even I’m not that bad.

I drive to
Whitesands Bay and walk along the coastal path, watching the churning, grey sea below, comparing it to the crystal blue I left behind in Malibu. Maybe I should’ve stayed and tried to sort things out with Honey instead of coming back to the familiar that’s not so familiar anymore.

Deciding it
’s too cold to sit on a nearby bench for long, and that I’m too tired to do much else, I go home. Maybe I’ll go to the pub tonight. Or go and stay at Dylan’s country place until Christmas Eve because I’m not sure I can put up with a week of this before Christmas Day arrives.

When I get home, Ella is in her prime spot in front of the TV and Cerys is asleep on the sofa. Her pale skin and dark-rimmed eyes evidence her
hungover state. I did have sympathy for her; but not after the mouthful, she gave me earlier. Looks like it’s siesta time in the house.

I flop onto the useless single bed and stare at the ceiling, playing the conversation last night through my mind. Is that why she was
pissy with me this morning? Is this because of what she said last night? I smirk to myself. My little sister’s friend fantasised about me. I get less chicks in Team Liam so I’m not as blasé about attention as Jem and Dylan. There’s something cute about being elevated to hero status by someone who knows me.

Then I picture her naked.

I struggle to remove the image and focus back on the pissed off Cerys who annoyed me. This works for about a minute until a different image of her last night, so close I almost felt her lips on my face. I bet she tastes amazing; she smells incredible. How would her skin feel? An image of Cerys naked in my bed inevitably returns.

This is not good.

I drift to sleep with the fantasies morphing into the kind of dreams that are too real. When I wake up several hours later, my body’s already made the decision. If this woman lets me get my hands on her, I won’t be able to say no.

Illicit, exciting
, and maybe a mistake. If Honey can do it, so can I.

CHAPTER 6

LIAM

I sleep into the early afternoon and wake to a growling stomach and a need to back off from Cerys before my overactive imagination causes problems. This includes getting out of the house
, so I head downstairs to grab a bite to eat before I embark on the Christmas shopping I’m dreading.

Cerys sits alone at the kitchen table, back to me. I ignore her and rummage around in the fridge for something to eat. There
’s leftover shepherd’s pie from last night and my mouth waters at the thought of Mum’s home cooking. Flipping the lid on the plastic container, I shove it into the microwave, catching sight of Cerys as I walk around the table.

Oh shit, she
’s crying.
Again
.

“
You okay?” I ask, hoping she says ‘yes’.

“
No.”

Ah. Crap.
“Anything I can do?”

“
No.” This is followed by face crumpling. I don’t want to deal with this, but her red eyes and tear-streaked face pull at a hurt of my own. More than that, I don’t want Cerys to be sad.

“
Did something happen?” I ask.

“
I’m living with someone else’s family, ruining their Christmas, and I have nowhere else to go.”

“
You’re not ruining anyone’s Christmas!” I pull a chair out and sit opposite her. “Mum wouldn’t ask you to stay if she thought that.”

“
She just felt sorry for me after Craig kicked me out.”

“
Craig? Is he your other half?”

Cerys studies the table intently.
“Ella’s dad. Yeah.”

“
But how can he kick you out of your own home?”

She wipes her face with the heel of her palm and sniffs.
“Easy. He did.”

“
Why though? Why would he do that? Can’t you go home and tell him to get the fuck out instead?”

“
I told Craig I wasn’t happy in our relationship and he lost it. He told me to leave and took my keys. I can’t even get in the house anymore.”

“
What the fuck? He made his four year old daughter homeless?”

“
He doesn’t care about her anyway...” Cerys heaves in a breath and the sobbing starts again. “She wants to see him for Christmas.” She pushes her phone across the table. “I just tried reasoning with him, waste of fucking time.”

I arch an eyebrow at her language but my heart hurts
, for Cerys and for her little girl. She doesn’t deserve this. Some fucking dad, he is.

“
So I’m homeless, jobless, and I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do. My parents won’t help; they said I brought all this on myself by getting pregnant in the first place and that I need to sort out my own mess.”

Her over-sharing shocks me even more and as her tears continue to flow, my anger at how someone can treat Cerys like this grows. I want to help her. How? I don
’t know but the little girl watching TV in the other room needs someone to sort this out.