forewarned.”
His dry tone made Nick flush with guilt. “I just told him he shouldn’t expect too much of you, because you aren’t really the DIY type—yet,” he explained.
Owen nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, he seems to think I can’t do much harm doing some of the gardening stuff and even some of the computer work he has to do like sourcing suppliers and such. I get the feeling he’s not too keen on that bit. He prefers being out in the open, using his hands and getting dirty. So I’ll start on Wednesday. I think I might cycle into town actually. I saw an old bike in the shed at the back that looks fit for purpose. Could I use that maybe?” He sounded quite excited at the prospect.
Nick smiled. “Yes, it’s mine. Use it whenever you like. I haven’t been on it in ages. It might need a bit of TLC before you use it though.”
Owen’s eyes sparkled. “I can sort that out. It’ll be fun. I used to fix up Jules’s bike when he went and damaged it—which was quite often.” His voice softened. “He loved biking. We used to go cycling together on holidays and do the whole tourist thing.”
He was quiet and Nick didn’t know quite what to say. The look on Owen’s face was one of a longing for a different time. Nick stood up, moving over to the fridge to take out a Coke. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to eat? There’s cold pizza in the fridge.”
Owen made a face. “I hate cold pizza. I’m not really hungry yet anyway. Why don’t we just sit down and talk?” He drew up a chair, sat down and regarded Nick thoughtfully. “You promised me a few answers.”
Cold fingers drew gently up Nick’s spine. “We don’t have to do that now though. Maybe later—”
“Nick.” Owen’s voice was even. “You can put this off as long as you like. All I’ll do is nag you and that’ll make things worse. We’ll do it in baby steps if it worries you.”
Nick shook his head, speaking harshly. “I don’t remember agreeing to talk about anything. You just assumed I would.” His stomach churned as he sat down at the kitchen table.
Owen sighed. “I can’t force you, Nick. I want you to want to talk to me. But if it’s a problem, so be it.” He shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “Your dad arrives tomorrow doesn’t he?”
Nick nodded, still feeling numb.
“Do you still want to take the couch and give him your room? I’m quite happy to take the couch. After all, I’m the guest.” There was no sarcasm in Owen’s voice, just a diffident acceptance.
Nick shook his head. “No. I’ll sleep in the lounge. You stay where you are.”
Owen nodded. “Suit yourself.”
He stood up, disappearing into his room and closing the door softly behind him. Nick stared at the closed door for a while. He’d never spoken to anyone about what he’d been through other than Heather, other therapists and Don. He had no secrets from Don and sometimes thought Don knew more about him than Nick knew about himself. He sat with Socks for the next few minutes, engrossed in his thoughts, until finally he roused himself. Owen’s door was still closed and Nick wondered what he was doing in there. He’d had been very quiet; perhaps the man was sleeping. Nick sat down to watch TV. Socks perched on the couch next to him, engrossed in an old teddy bear he’d found that Nick had thought had disappeared forever. He smiled fondly. Socks had a way of suddenly bringing items out of the ether. Where he stashed them, Nick had no idea.
The movie on the TV was an old one, starring Robert de Niro as some tough assassin. Nick enjoyed watching the man at work and was engrossed in the film when Owen’s door opened and he stepped out, clad in just his boxer shorts, his hair mussed.
He yawned. “Christ, what time is it? I fell asleep.”
Nick looked at his watch. “Just gone seven.”
Owen stretched and the muscles on his stomach tautened. Nick tried not to look at the flat expanse of tanned stomach or Owen’s groin but it was a
His dry tone made Nick flush with guilt. “I just told him he shouldn’t expect too much of you, because you aren’t really the DIY type—yet,” he explained.
Owen nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, he seems to think I can’t do much harm doing some of the gardening stuff and even some of the computer work he has to do like sourcing suppliers and such. I get the feeling he’s not too keen on that bit. He prefers being out in the open, using his hands and getting dirty. So I’ll start on Wednesday. I think I might cycle into town actually. I saw an old bike in the shed at the back that looks fit for purpose. Could I use that maybe?” He sounded quite excited at the prospect.
Nick smiled. “Yes, it’s mine. Use it whenever you like. I haven’t been on it in ages. It might need a bit of TLC before you use it though.”
Owen’s eyes sparkled. “I can sort that out. It’ll be fun. I used to fix up Jules’s bike when he went and damaged it—which was quite often.” His voice softened. “He loved biking. We used to go cycling together on holidays and do the whole tourist thing.”
He was quiet and Nick didn’t know quite what to say. The look on Owen’s face was one of a longing for a different time. Nick stood up, moving over to the fridge to take out a Coke. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to eat? There’s cold pizza in the fridge.”
Owen made a face. “I hate cold pizza. I’m not really hungry yet anyway. Why don’t we just sit down and talk?” He drew up a chair, sat down and regarded Nick thoughtfully. “You promised me a few answers.”
Cold fingers drew gently up Nick’s spine. “We don’t have to do that now though. Maybe later—”
“Nick.” Owen’s voice was even. “You can put this off as long as you like. All I’ll do is nag you and that’ll make things worse. We’ll do it in baby steps if it worries you.”
Nick shook his head, speaking harshly. “I don’t remember agreeing to talk about anything. You just assumed I would.” His stomach churned as he sat down at the kitchen table.
Owen sighed. “I can’t force you, Nick. I want you to want to talk to me. But if it’s a problem, so be it.” He shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “Your dad arrives tomorrow doesn’t he?”
Nick nodded, still feeling numb.
“Do you still want to take the couch and give him your room? I’m quite happy to take the couch. After all, I’m the guest.” There was no sarcasm in Owen’s voice, just a diffident acceptance.
Nick shook his head. “No. I’ll sleep in the lounge. You stay where you are.”
Owen nodded. “Suit yourself.”
He stood up, disappearing into his room and closing the door softly behind him. Nick stared at the closed door for a while. He’d never spoken to anyone about what he’d been through other than Heather, other therapists and Don. He had no secrets from Don and sometimes thought Don knew more about him than Nick knew about himself. He sat with Socks for the next few minutes, engrossed in his thoughts, until finally he roused himself. Owen’s door was still closed and Nick wondered what he was doing in there. He’d had been very quiet; perhaps the man was sleeping. Nick sat down to watch TV. Socks perched on the couch next to him, engrossed in an old teddy bear he’d found that Nick had thought had disappeared forever. He smiled fondly. Socks had a way of suddenly bringing items out of the ether. Where he stashed them, Nick had no idea.
The movie on the TV was an old one, starring Robert de Niro as some tough assassin. Nick enjoyed watching the man at work and was engrossed in the film when Owen’s door opened and he stepped out, clad in just his boxer shorts, his hair mussed.
He yawned. “Christ, what time is it? I fell asleep.”
Nick looked at his watch. “Just gone seven.”
Owen stretched and the muscles on his stomach tautened. Nick tried not to look at the flat expanse of tanned stomach or Owen’s groin but it was a
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