Die for You

Chapter 66

"Well, you can't find a place from the other side of the country, Freen, the internet's good but it isn't that good. So will you be here for lunch or for dinner?"

"Dinner," I sighed giving in, "if I can find somewhere to stay. I'll come over when I'm settled in, I assume there's a hotel or something nearby?"

"Don't worry about a hotel, kid; I got my guest room already made up for you, all you need to do is get here."

"Ok fine," I said, giving in as my last hope of escape evaporated. "I'll be there later."

"Lookin' forward to it already, Blondie," James said with a smile in his voice, "see you soon, babe."

"Don't call me babe, James," I said, before realizing that he'd already hung up. I lay back into the cushions, pulled the duvet over my head and snuggled down once more, hoping to get an extra couple of hours sleep. 

As I prepared to steal back my rest from the nightmares that had plagued me, I grinned involuntarily to myself as I made a mental note to have words about that babe comment when I saw James later.The little sod was going to pay for that, and best of all he probably knew it as well.

It was a couple of hours later that, with some effort, I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower; James having effectively ruined my day of lounging around and doing nothing. I hadn't paid for another night, but I'd been assured when I checked in that I could extend my stay pretty easily if I wanted to. 

Well, if I was going back to London now then there was no point in laying out any more cash than I had to; which meant I needed to get sorted, packed and out before eleven. Getting up wasn't normally a big issue for me, but as the clock ticked ever onwards I'd found myself using any reason not to get out of bed, even the unheard of excuse of 'just watching until the adverts' on some ridiculous daytime chat show thing; I think the truth was I didn't want to leave my little pit of dissatisfaction and head back to London. I didn't want to face the results of my incompetence.

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The day flew by, as days often do when there is something you don't want to do approaching. All too soon I was forced to punch the address into the 'bird in the box' and make the journey back across the country towards London. As journeys go, it was uneventful, but what's more it was boring; I found myself missing Becky's ridiculously cheesy music choices and singalongs as I drove along, missing the companionship we had shared as we travelled. 

My head was a fucking mess, but there was one thing that cut through it all. I missed my Becky, it had only been a few days and I missed her; I had nearly killed her, and ever since we'd met she'd been to hell and back with attacks and tragedies and everything else... but I still missed her and I wished that she was sat next to me, taking the piss and making me laugh.

I missed the companionship that we had shared; I missed her like I missed my mum, like I missed Whitey. It was fucking pathetic, but it was undeniably true; I missed my little redhead with a passion that was hurting me, and that was a problem.

A problem I needed to solve.

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Like my idea of their trendy loft apartment, I was expecting a minimalist house, all fashion and no comfort; what I found was a comfortable looking home, the walls plastered with pictures of James and his family and I paused in the hallway and stared at a particular print, framed and sitting on a ledge. I couldn't help grinning as I looked into the cheeky smile of a young James Porter, unmistakable despite the camouflage paint that covered his face.