His flat smelt of the same strong cologne I associated with him. The door opened out onto his living room where his sofa was, opposite his bed, and the bathroom was visible though partially hidden behind a glass wall opposite the front door. There was very little inside it. Just a cactus, a nightstand, and a set of dumbbells. None it surprised me.

I heard him shut the door behind me and the little light that had been streaming in from the hallway was immediately dimmed. He threw his car keys onto his bed. 'Make yourself at home. That's the bathroom. That's the kitchen.' He pointed to a room behind another glass wall beside me. 'Do you want a cup of tea?'

I nodded. 'Thanks.'

'Of course,' he said. 'You okay?'

'Need to pee.'

He moved off to the kitchen. I waited for the noise of the kettle filling from the tap to cover the sound.

He still had his back to me when I went back into the kitchen. He must have heard me coming because once I stopped a few feet behind him he turned round. 'Hungry?' he asked. I was but I shook my head. I didn't want to risk being sick. The kettle whistled, he picked it up and poured the water over the teabags in the bottom of the cups. 'It's earl grey,' he said. 'Hope you don't mind.'

I didn't. Earl grey was my favourite. I drank tea and coffee black so without milk earl grey easily tasted the best. He held out the cup and I moved forward to take it. 'Thanks.'

'Of course... okay now you're really scaring me, what's up with you... Anna?' He nudged me with his foot and I looked up..

'Hmm?' I hadn't realised that I'd zoned out. 'Oh. Nothing.'

'Oh my god!' he complained. And totally misreading his tone I thought he was about to start another argument and I cocked my head as I braced myself for it. 'Jesus, Anna, he's really done a number on you this time.'

His words caught me off–guard and I frowned. 'What?'

'Nick,' he clarified. 'Come on, you're hanging out with me, for god's sake,' he laughed. 'You don't want to go back there, do you?' I opened my mouth to retort that of course I wanted to go home at some point but before I could say anything Stephen corrected himself. 'I don't mean ever, I mean now. At the moment.' He looked through me for a couple more seconds before he said 'you're scared.'

I reclined my head. 'What?' I wasn't scared. And I really didn't like the insinuation because if I could take on monsters, creatures from the past, and stand toe to toe with them and not feel a thing then there was no way that I was afraid of Nick Cutter. 'Not.'

'He's really inside your head, isn't he?' Stephen asked. I wasn't my head I was worried about. 'Anna I'm not saying you're scared of him, but there's something, isn't there? You're pushing him away again the same way you did before.'

I wanted to remind Stephen that only half an hour earlier he had told me that I should leave Nick.

That idea was absurd. I didn't know how to not love Nick Cutter. I'd already tried that before, but I hadn't been able to fight it.

'Whatever it is,' Stephen continued, 'you should talk to him.'

'Mad at me,' I reminded him.

But to my surprise, Stephen shook his head. 'He isn't. Just... think about it from his perspective. He's him, and you're...' his eyes flittered carefully down my body by way of explanation and I shifted, not out of discomfort because he wasn't looking at me in that way. I held my cup of tea down in front of my stomach and pursed my lips in thought. 'You,' he finished.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something undoubtedly quick witted– so quick I didn't even know what I was yet– when there was a sudden twinge of something in my stomach and I had to shut my mouth quickly.

I swallowed but the feeling rising up my throat didn't stop. He must have seen it in my face because a moment later he straightened up. 'Anna?'

I just slid the mug down on the worktop, turning quickly on my heel and crossing the room back towards the bathroom.

I tried to collect myself as I lowered myself to my knees in front of the toilet, desperately fighting the feeling bubbling up inside me.

But I couldn't. I leant forward bracing a hand against the back of the toilet.

His shadow caught my attention as he crossed the room and appeared in the open doorway, and groaning, I screwed my eyes shut because there wasn't anything else I could do about him being there. 'Don't–' I attempted. I didn't want him to see this, I didn't want him to see me like this, then all my hard work would be in vain.

He paid no attention, as per, and hovered in the doorway for just a moment longer before I heard him take a couple of steps into the room.

I tried to take a few deep breaths, inhale and exhale accordingly, but the gurgling and churning noises in my stomach were way too loud and way too distracting.

I felt him stop behind me and he lowered himself to his knees, chest bracing against my back as he gathered my hair in his hand to hold it away from my face to avoid both the vomit that was coming and the toilet water. And his other hand came to rest on my back, he rubbed up and down, and to some extent I actually found it soothing because no one else had ever done this. When I threw up at Connor's, he ran away to avoid it. And Nick hadn't been there. I liked to think he would do this too, hold me, help me while I was in such a state.

'Stephen–' I complained again. But I had to hope the sharpness of my tone would show those sentiments because I couldn't complete the sentence; I felt the bubble in my throat and reached out to grip the bowl tighter.

I was going to throw up.

I was going to throw up now.

He exhaled in a sort of sigh that I felt fanning out across the back of my neck. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

And a moment later I wretched and spewed a mouthful of vomit into the toilet bowl.

It made me cough and that brought up more, and I wretched again, unable to stop the reflex despite the fact my stomach was practically empty already. My hands fisted, nails digging in with some sort of desperation that this feeling– the hotness and queasiness running through my body –would pass.

And I groaned from the discomfort.

'It's okay.' His hand ran up and down my back again. 'It's okay... I've got you.'

The nausea hit me again, I leant over to vomit up the next mouthful with a shudder. A hot flush fluttered up my body, rising to my head, and instantly I screwed up my eyes even tighter. I wretched again, then again, then a third time, going quickly in succession through the motion of the sickness except this time my stomach was completely empty and there nothing left in there to come up.

I braced my hand against the seat, nostrils flared and mouth pulled up into an uncomfortable grimace whilst I tried to settle the queasiness.

Stephen sat back on his heels, guiding me back with him and unable to even hold my head up it fell back against his shoulder.

'Okay,' he said, 'the truth this time. When was the last time you ate anything?'

The taste inside my mouth was abhorrent and it made me shudder again. 'This morning,' I said, 'and I threw it up.'

I was so lightheaded I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes so I stayed there, leaning against him, trying to replenish the air in my lungs.

'Then you're gonna eat something. Okay?'

I managed a nod. And when I felt him shifting my whole body stiffened up against him. My hand slammed down around his arm– the one around my waist– and I gripped him tight because I didn't want to move. 'Not yet.'

My head started to loll, a sudden wave of incoherent thoughts started to pass through my head– delirium– from exhaustion and vomiting. A terrible combination. I tried to hold myself up but I could feel myself slipping and I thought I was going to collapse, but he pulled me firmly back against him and reached his free hand up to lift my head. He put his fingers under chin to tilt my head until I was resting against his shoulder again. My eyelids drooped.

'...Anna?'

'Sorry...'

'What?' There was a softness to his tone that I had never heard before. 'What are you apologising for.'

'... didn't mean to...' I was cut off by a weird sort of noise in my stomach and a wave of coolness shuddered up me. I groaned. 'So sorry...'

'That's ridiculous.' A finger ran down my cheek, pausing at the corner of my mouth to pull hair from where it had stuck across my lips. 'You're sick, Anna,' he said. 'You don't ever have to apologise for that. You don't ever have to apologise. Not to me.' I felt him shift his weight. 'Jesus...' he muttered. His hand moved up and pressed over my sternum. 'Why... why is your heart beating like that?'

I was barely aware of its pounding until he'd said that and instantly I was unable to ignore it, because it was fast and heavy and thumping in my chest like it was trying to break out. 'Hypoglycaemic.' I hadn't eaten anything in a long time. It was no wonder my blood sugar was low.

'Is that – are you okay?' he responded. 'Do you need to go to hospital?'

I shook my head. 'No hospitals.'

'Because you don't need to?' he asked, 'or because you don't want to?' I didn't respond, I just dug my fingers harder into his skin like I was trying to convey my desperation not to go. I felt his grip around me tighten in return.

'Water.'

'You want water?'

I nodded. He shifted behind me, shuffling back and pulling away until I was left alone on my knees on the bathroom floor. I turned around, leant my back against the wall, eyes closed, and drew my knees up to my chest.

I heard the cupboard door open and shut. I heard the tap go on and off. I heard his footsteps back to the bathroom. He crouched down in front of me and put his hand on my knee to prompt me to open my eyes. Then, looking up at him and lifting a limp hand, he passed the glass of water over. 'Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

I took a couple of sips, grateful to wash away the taste of the vomit from my mouth.

When I looked back to Stephen again, I was surprised to see his gaze was still on me.

'M'okay,' I said. But my voice was weak and unconvincing.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Really?' Stephen never believed me no matter what I said so why should it be any different now. Again, I just didn't bother to answer. 'Do you need anything else?'

'Look at you,' I returned, 'taking care of me.'

'Well if you're not going to take care of yourself somebody has to.'

I took another sip of water and held his gaze. And it was if I was daring him or something and we were going to see which of us would break first except there wasn't a prize for the winner of the competition. He was calling me out like he wanted me to correct him. Like he didn't really want to believe it himself because of the implications. And I got the feeling he hoped I hadn't understood.

He was talking about Nick again.

I closed my eyes and leant my head against the wall, and immediately felt less dizzy.

'Anna.'

I sighed. 'Yeah.' And now I was agreeing with him. The world was ending. There was a moment of reverent silence.

'I'm going to make you some toast.'

He got up again, I heard him go back to the kitchen but I stayed on the bathroom floor, not entirely sure the nausea had passed but at the very least I was feeling better. I sipped the rest of the water from the glass.

I love you. – I know it sounds insane. I could see him– I could hear his voice so clearly it was like he was actually there. I love you. And I could feel his touch. I could feel his hands running up my thighs, my stomach. The memory of him replayed in my head, on top of him, hands braced either side of his head until he grabbed a hold of my arm and flipped me and held my legs around his waist and–

'Are you going to join me?'

I opened my eyes and turned my attention to the doorway. Stephen was leaning against the adjoining wall, arms folded over his chest and a look in his eye that told me there was more he wanted to say.

There was always more with Stephen. He always had something to nag me about, or tell me off for, and I was always half expecting the words I told you so to come out his mouth.

But this time he wasn't brave enough to actually say it.

I put the glass down on the bathroom floor, pushed myself up. Stephen took half a step towards me like he wanted to help but I didn't need to be lifted onto my feet so I shook my head. Classic Anna Havisham, refusing help even when she needed it and now referring to herself in third person- good sign.

When did I get so stubborn? Perhaps it was just who I was accepting help from that actually mattered to me.

The thought of getting up made me feel sick and as soon as I started to move the dizziness came back. I wobbled, Stephen took another step towards me like he wanted to catch me and hold me up but I held up a shaking hand. 'Don't.' I reached out to the wall and leant my shoulder against it. Nick's voice was ringing round my head clear as a bell like he was talking right into my ear. My thoughts were tripping over one another.

'I know,' Stephen said, 'you can manage...'

I just gestured for him to go because I needed to sit down. The sooner the better. I pushed myself off the wall and forced myself to followed Stephen back into the kitchen where he'd put a plate of plain, dry toast on the table. I sat down in front of it.

Stephen picked up my mug of tea from the worktop and put it down beside me. There was still steam coming off it.

I picked up one piece of bread, tucking my knees up on my chair, and took a bite.

The effort of chewing made me feel sick again but I didn't give up. I chewed and swallowed and started to shake my head.

No.

No.

I wasn't going to throw up again.

No.

I waited for a second for my stomach to settle whilst I sipped some tea before I took another bite.

Stephen sat down opposite me. I tried to fight the sensation of nausea by swallowing slowly.

'Not eating?'

Stephen shook his head but cradled a cup of tea in both hands. 'I'm not really hungry.' I didn't blame him; he'd just watched me vomit so I'm not surprised he didn't have much of an appetite.

'Thank you...' I made a weak gesture to the food.

He smiled. 'Anytime.' Then he raised his own cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. 'That's the third time now you've said thank you,' he said. 'I think it might be the nicest you've ever been to me.'

'Think this might be the nicest thing you've ever done in your life,' I returned.

He laughed. 'I'm nice to you.' I didn't lift my gaze from my tea as I quirked an eyebrow. 'On occasion,' he added.

I opened my mouth to respond as I shifted in the chair to try and get comfortable seat and a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me again. I fell into the back of the chair, my head rolled but I caught myself with a hand against the edge of his kitchen table. And I gripped on tight to the reality of it.

Nick isn't here.

God- I felt weird.

The voice was just in my head, I knew that, but it sounded so real I was starting to consider it might have been.

And with my eyes closed I could almost believe he was with me.

'Are you okay? Seriously?' Stephen's voice cut through. 'I know the medic said you were fine but what if he missed something? What if you hit your head harder that we thought? Anna, seriously, do we need to go to the hospital?'

Hospital. They used to play the weirdest music in the waiting room. I could hear it.

I shook my head. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

I couldn't wake up in a hospital bed again. I wanted my bed. I wanted to be there.

'Found my way home, and... I thought I would never be without him again.' Why was it him now? Why was he here? Why did it have to be Stephen Hart? 'Here I am. Here... How is it that you're the only one who hasn't pushed me away?'

'Because we might have our differences but we both have the same issue. We care too much.'

'You think I should leave him?'

'I do.' He said. I didn't want to hear that. Especially from him. Asshole. Worst part was there was something deep down inside me that knew sometimes Stephen was right. 'Don't– don't cry...'

I hadn't realised I was. I snatched the tear off my cheek. My body moved, standing up into a room that was spinning. A noise split through my lips, an uneasy uncomfortable sort of desperation for the feeling to end.

'Are you okay?'

My head shook.

He stood up, moved quickly around the table. 'Anna–'

'Why is the floor shaking?'

'It isn't. The floor isn't shaking, you are.'

'Not shaking.'

'Go to bed, Anna, seriously.'

My head shook. 'Don't sleep without him. No point in you having a bad night as well. Let me take the sofa.'

'You can't sleep without Nick?' He asked in clarification, 'no wonder you look so exhausted.'

'Stop saying that.'

'You stayed away for two weeks.'

'Connor was sick. Didn't want him to get it.'

I heard him laugh. 'But apparently you're quite happy to pass it on to me.'

'Was you who said–'

'It's okay. It was kind of you to share. Whoa!' His hand grabbed my bicep and pulled me back upright. 'Okay. Come on. Come with me. Let's get you to bed.'

My feet came out from under me, I thought I was falling but I never hit the floor, instead I floated until I was lowered onto something soft.

My hands hit the mattress, keeping me upright. He crouched down in front of me. He lifted my leg to prop my foot in his lap and pulled the laces of my trainers to undo them. 'Okay?'

I tried to focus on him, on his voice, on his face but everything was swirly

I heard my other shoe fall to the ground.

'Are you cold?'

I couldn't stop shaking. 'Yes. No...uh... don't– don't know. Weird.'

'What's weird?'

'You. Don't understand you. Make no sense. Fight me on everything, make everything difficult. Now...' I looked up. Insanity. I shook my head again. 'Shit.' Seeing things. '... fucking yellow bird...'

'What?'

'Don't know- can't remember how long...37... 60... 81... 85.'

'Shh. Shh.' Two hands brushed my hair back from my face. 'Come on.'

I was manoeuvred up the bed. Then, suddenly, I was laid flat with my head on a pillow and a duvet over me.

My eyes closed.

That was so much better. My bed. All I had wanted all evening was my bed. Footsteps retreated. I didn't understand where he was going. I reached blindly out and caught a hold of him. 'Lie down with me.'

The mattress dipped, a weight shuffled up towards me and I reached out to hold on to it.

I was so tired.

I was so tired.

'Sorry,' I mumbled. 'Sorry... No matter what I say... okay... I love you Nick.'

I opened my eyes to a shadow in the sunbeams on Stephen's white bedroom wall. The sun was coming up, shining through an open window and I could feel a breeze.

It wasn't like staying at Connor's and I was cold; I must have been there long enough to acclimatise without even realising it. It wasn't like Stephen's duvet wasn't thick enough to keep me warm otherwise. There was now a blanket thrown lazily over the sofa opposite the bed. I couldn't for the life of me work out why I wasn't on it.

It took another 30 seconds– maybe– for me to pluck up the courage to escape from the warmth towards some sort of movement I could hear in the kitchen.

Stephen was awake. He was moving carefully around his kitchen, one piece of toast hanging out of his mouth and wearing just a pair of trousers, waistband of his boxer shorts sticking out from beneath.

He turned away from the worktop where he was making himself a cup of tea and saw me. His hair was still sort of damp and sticking up on top of his head. He took the toast from his mouth. 'Hi,' he said.

'Hi,' I replied.

'Are you okay? How are you feeling?' He rounded the kitchen table and started sort of shepherding me towards a chair.

'Fine. Feel fine.' Though some of yesterday was a bit hazy, I couldn't remember getting into bed. An image came back to me, my head turned towards the bathroom almost questioningly. I threw up.

'Breakfast?' he offered.

My head snapped back to him. I watched him hold up a loaf of bread wrapped in a paper bag. I nodded in agreement as I stepped around the nearest chair and sat down. 'Thanks.'

'Did you sleep okay?' he asked.

I nodded again. I hadn't been lying before, I genuinely did feel better. I looked around almost suspiciously for the clock. I felt almost too well rested. I couldn't believe it when I saw that it was already half past 8. My eyes widened slightly. 'When were you going to wake me up?'

'Honestly?' he replied, as he put two slices of toast into his toaster. 'I wasn't. I would have let you sleep all day if you'd stayed there, god knows you need it. Do you want coffee?' He glanced to me to see my reaction. I shook my head. His eyebrows rose. 'Wow. What is going on with you?'

'Tea's fine,' I responded quickly to make it less of a big deal.

'But if you'd prefer coffee I have some.'

I shook my head again. 'Was promised pancakes though.'

His gaze locked with mine. I saw some kind of expression flitter behind his eyes for a second before he replied. 'You hate pancakes.'

I frowned. 'Course I don't. That sound like me? Seriously, who doesn't like pancakes?'

His lips curled up, his mouth broadening into a wide smile as his eyes sort of rolled despite his stifled laughter.

The toast popped out the toaster. 'Suppose that'll do.'

As Stephen took the toast out and put it on a plate to hand back to me, another image came back from the night before of me staring down at two pieces of plain, dry toast. 'Here you go–'

'You made me eat last night.' I said in an air of confusion like I wasn't sure if the memory was real or just an elaborate precursory dream.

His expression shifted to match my own. 'Yeah,' he replied. 'After you were sick, then we drank tea. You don't remember?'

I wasn't sure. The more I thought about it, the more I could sort of remember in the way that I knew what had happened– I had witnessed it but not really been present with any thoughts or understanding. I had been so tired I could remember that I hadn't really listened to him and I hadn't paid any real attention to what was coming out of my own mouth beside the vomit.

'Don't know.' I glanced back over my shoulder to the discarded blanket on the sofa. 'Thank you.'

He shrugged, pouring some boiling water into the bottom of a mug before he turned to put it down on the table in front of me. 'Any time,' he replied. He picked up his own breakfast from the side and sat down opposite me.

'No. Mean thank you... for everything.'

'Who are you, and what have you done with Anna Havisham?'

I tutted, my eyes rolled and I picked up a slice of toast and ripped off a piece with my teeth.

'You can stay as long as you like,' he then added.

I gave a weak smile in thanks. 'Should go home.'

He sort of shuffled in his seat. 'You don't have to,' he said. '... if you don't want to. Not yet.'

I shrugged. 'Can't avoid it forever.'

'Forever is a long time, I'm sure it would wait for you to be ready for it.' It was a nice sentiment for sure, but he was wrong. And it was the most comforting thing that had happened all morning because now it felt the world was slowly healing itself. This wasn't the apocalypse after all.

'Not this time.'

We were the first to arrive back at the canal.

It was probably just as well.

It didn't occur to me until I was sliding down off Stephen's passenger seat, that seeing me arriving with him might have been a massive kick in the teeth. And of course, it wasn't the fact that I'd stayed over at Stephens that was the issue, it would have been his assumption about why that would have hurt him before I could get the opportunity to explain.

Thankfully Nick arrived 10 minutes after we did. And overnight it seemed he'd changed his mind. 'Look,' he said, as soon as he walked over to us, 'I agree that something about this doesn't add up.'

And it seemed strange. Last night when Stephen said he wasn't mad at me I couldn't believe it; all that I'd seen of his behaviour recently seemed to prove the contrary. I glanced across at Stephen. He gave me a knowing look.

'What?' I asked, for clarification.

'I think we ought to widen the search to the canal's sides,' Nick said.

Of course he couldn't have reached this decision himself yesterday, now it was halfway to being too late. All the equipment and the men were here already.

But Stephen disagreed. 'This is another one of your hunches, isn't it?' he postulated. 'We can't just drop everything you know, there's a plan in place, a good plan.'

'Well, where have I ever been wrong?' Nick replied.

I opened my mouth. Alphabetically? 1. Aetosaurs. 2. Anomalies–

Or maybe chronologically? 1. The aetosaurs. 2. The Anomalies...

'–Except about women,' he interrupted in continuation. 'Generally.'

What the hell?

What was that supposed to mean? I frowned and turned my head to stare at him. Was that supposed to be some sort of apology? Or, had he finally had enough?

Did he just dump me?

'Look at the odds. It's gotta be in the canal,' Stephen said.

'Look just give me a few minutes. I'm no Anna Havisham but I just want to look over there.'

The strain of trying to work everything out made my head hurt. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Did he hate me right now or not?

I had to shut my eyes. Dear god.

'What am I meant to tell Lester?'

'Cover for me.'

'No, cause you're wasting time.'

'Ten minutes.'

When he wasn't back half an hour later, I started to get worried.

As soon as I saw him coming back across the dock, I walked out to meet him. '10 minutes,' I said, gesturing to my watch, 'you said, it's been almost 40 now?'

He was holding a hand to his cheek and flexing his jaw as he eased his fingers across a fresh bruise that had just started to purple, beneath his cheekbone. 'Yeah, sorry,' he said, 'got held up.'

'The hell happened to you?' I asked, as finally reaching him, I put my hand up to his cheek, batting his own away so that I could take a look at the cheek he was holding.

'I got punched in the face,' he said. 'It knocked me out.'

I stepped back. 'What?' I asked.

'Wasn't all bad though,' he continued, 'when I came to I heard that noise again, the one from the drains. It's here.'

So we were just glossing right over that? Okay... 'Sure?' I asked, frowning.

'Aye,' he said, 'absolutely.'

He lowered the microphone into the water.

Connor had joined us. He had squeaked a sheepish good morning in Nick's direction, but let his gaze wash coolly over me as he put his chair down beside where I was sitting on the ground at edge of the dock.

And he seemed almost as concerned as I'd been when Nick told him the story.

'You know the guy that hit you, what if he comes back?' he asked.

I pushed the buttons on the recording equipment to ensure that we didn't miss anything the system picked up.

'He won't,' Nick replied, shaking his head, 'I've seen him before. At the mall. It was the cleaner.'

Connor and I shared a look. 'We've seen that guy too,' Connor explained, 'at the A.R.C. He was dressed like a soldier.'

'Are you sure?'

I nodded. 'The cleaner,' I repeated.

'Yeah,' Connor echoed.

'Told Connor,' I continued, 'there's no way that guy got out on his own though. Was minutes from death. Needed extreme medical attention.'

'Something's going on,' Nick stated in realisation. 'We're being watched.'

'Lester?' Connor suggested.

'Maybe,' Nick answered. 'Anna? Are you recording this?' I nodded. 'What does that sound like to you?'

Before I could point out that I wasn't wearing any headphones, Connor answered on my behalf. 'Dunno. Bit like something I once heard in Glastonbury in a chill out tent.'

'Never been to Glastonbury.'

'How would you know?'

Because we knew everything about each other. We hadn't gone a day without speaking– the exception being while I was marooned. And there were only a handful of occasions in his life when we'd gone a day without physically being together.

I don't know how he didn't remember that.

I narrowed my eyes. 'How would I miss that-'

'What is going on with the pair of you?' Cutter interrupted as he yanked his headphones down to his neck.

'Considering she's moved out of your house, it doesn't seem like you two have been any better recently,' Connor clapped back.

'What?' Nick and I both demanded. I barely had enough time to comprehend his statement before I was shaking my head. 'Connor,' I told him, 'No.'

'So, you went home last night?' Connor said.

I was grateful there wasn't a long silence before Nick groaned. 'For god's sake, you and that stupid bug–'

'It's been over 24 hours since she last threw up...' Connor returned. Then, as Nick turned his head to stare at me, this forlorn look of anguish not far from his eyes, Connor continued 'didn't she tell you?'

I lifted my hands. 'Could still be infectious up to 48 hours after the incident,' I said quickly. And I wasn't going to mention last night. 'Plus. Would have made it home had I not had to stop your girlfriend murdering our pet.'

'What?' Nick questioned.

'Connor's dating Cruella de Vil,' I explained.

'Oh for crying out loud.' Connor pulled his own headphones off and span around to glare at me. 'It was an accident how many times do I have to flipping tell you–'

'Tell yourself it was an accident, Connor.' I shook my head. 'Rex knows not to go in the fridge, he doesn't even like to be near it, it's way too cold! He isn't stupid.'

'Oh but I am?' he demanded.

My nose crinkled as I blinked at him in disbelief. 'Did I say that?' I asked, then turned to address Nick, with a gesture back to my cousin, 'Did I say that?' I repeated.

'Oh, you've had a problem with Caroline from day 1,' he argued.

'Was she doing in the video store in the middle of the day, huh?' I demanded exasperatedly, 'she have a job?'

'You are so just jealous of us two, Anna,' he drawled back. 'Because we might actually have a chance of a normal life with a family.'

My mouth opened, lips wobbling as though I was about to say something but nothing came out.

How dare he use that against me.

I blinked, expression frozen in mien of shock.

As the initial astonishment faded it gave way to nothing but irrecusable rage.

The next thought I had involved shoving him off his chair and into the water. It was all too tempting but my anger had frozen me and all I could do was stare right at him. Then I turned on my heel, whipping around then walking away across the pontoon.