‘Yeah, well. I wasn’t expectingcompany.’ He shrugged, kicking a pair of boxers under his bed while appearing disarmingly sheepish.
‘To be honest, mine isn’t much better.’
‘I’ll keep things tidier in future.’
I smirked as I handed over one coffee. ‘Four sugars. Does that mean you’re expecting me to come back?’
He quirked his eyebrow in a way that made my heart flip over. Stubbornly ignoring my brain’s frantic questions about what the hell I was doing in Jonah’s bedroom, I instead took a sip of my drink and perched on the corner of his bed.
‘The court makes kids keep seeing their parent until the final decision’s made about where they’ll live, in case they end up going back home.’
Jonah was leaning against the desk. He paused with the mug a few inches away from his mouth. ‘They aren’t going back. That isn’t our home any more. The witch has made it clear she’s choosing Warren over her kids.’
‘Yeah, but it’s the judge who ultimately decides.’
He ran a hand over his face. ‘I know exactly what Mum will be saying to Ellis and Billy. How she’ll twist things, mess with their heads so they want to go back.’
‘The contact worker will intervene if she does. These professionals can tell which parents genuinely want to change and who’ll pretend to agree to anything to get their kids back. They won’t be fooled if your mum is lying.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s fooled them enough times before.’
‘Yeah, but this time you aren’t protecting her.’
He sank down onto the bed next to me. ‘The judge can’t make them go back, can they?’ he asked, in barely a whisper.
I slipped my hand into his, and he gripped it tightly. I’d seen this scenario enough times not to lie to him about it.
After a brief silence, he nudged me with his elbow.
‘Thanks, by the way. For snapping me out of it, before. I know I can be scary when I lose it. The kids are used to me. But, I don’t know. It’s different, here.’
‘I’m not scared of you.’
I’d tried to sound light-hearted but instead the words hung in the room like a cloud.
‘Really?’ He let out a trembling laugh. ‘I’m terrified of you.’
I was trying to pluck up the courage to ask him about the songs he’d been playing in the car, when the front door banged shut.
As Mum called hello up the stairs I dropped Jonah’s hand and sprang towards the door.
‘Here.’ He pressed the empty mugs into my hand, bending down to meet my panicked eyes. ‘You were bringing me a coffee. It’s fine. No big deal.’
In one smooth motion he opened the door, bundled me out and closed it again.
It cracked open an inch while I was still standing there, collecting myself.
‘My door’s always open. I mean, metaphorically. Even if it isn’t, like, literally open,’ he said, his face hidden from sight.
‘Maybe try opening a window, too,’ I whispered over my shoulder, before skidding down the stairs.
‘There you are,’ Mum said, appearing at the kitchen door. ‘Are you okay?’
I worked hard to keep my smile subdued, my tone indifferent. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Phew. Just checking.’
Nothingabout this was okay. Least of all me.
