39
RUBY
I busymyself cutting up fresh watermelon and strawberries and add to the breakfast fruit salad before setting the bowl on the large wooden table. Jem watches me running a tongue along his teeth.
“Didn’t you listen to me last night?” he asks.
“Which part?”
“You’re in a T-shirt and panties again.”
“No, this is a bikini.” I lift up my t-shirt to show him the plain black two-piece.
“Huh. I never thought I’d see you in a bikini.”
“Never thought or don’t want to? How else am I supposed to swim in the pool?”Do I look that weird?
“The sexy as fuck thing is still going on, don’t worry about that.” He runs an appreciative gaze along my almost naked body. “So, you can swim?”
I throw watermelon peel at his head. “Cheeky! Yeah, we had to learn at school in a bloody freezing pool.”
“I couldn’t swim until a few years ago.”
“Really?” I sit opposite and pour the coffee.
“Nobody ever taught me.” He focuses on the coffee pouring into his cup. “And I was umm… away from school when we had swimming lessons. Or too sick to swim.”
Setting the pot down, I’m aware of the harder tone Jem uses when he loses himself in his past. “Too sick or too many bruises?”
He looks up sharply. “How can you know that?”
“I’m guessing. You said something about shit parents when I told you about my past. Did your mum—”
“No!” He clears his throat. “Not her. The dickhead she lived with. The one she left with.”
My throat tightens and I drink the coffee, attempting to moisten my mouth. Wasn’t I the one telling him yesterday doesn’t matter? “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”
Jem sits back in his chair and pulls his long curls away from his face. “Don’t be. I always promised I’d tell you after you explained about Dan, but you’ve probably guessed most of my story.”
“Abusive childhood.” I reach out and place a hand over Jem’s, rubbing the back.
“Oh, yeah, temporarily from mum’s procession of boyfriends who came and went. Not mum though, I guess people have to be around to abuse you and I was on my own a lot. Eventually my mum fucked off for good with her boyfriend and that was it. Just me on my own.”
“How old were you when she left you?”
“The last time, I was twelve.”
I refuse to hide my disgust. “Your mum left you to live on your own when you were twelve? What the hell?That’sabuse. What happened to you?”
“I managed to keep things hidden for a few weeks; she left and came back all the time and I guess I hoped that’s what would happen. She didn’t come back. They tried putting me in foster care, but I kept running away in case she came home and I wasn’t there for her. When I was fourteen, I got pissed off with the constant merry-go-round and finally accepted Mum was gone for good. I agreed to stay with a family. They were okay, had a house full of foster kids nobody wanted, so I could blend in and avoid any attempt to fix me. I was never around much, spent most of my time at Dylan’s or Liam’s house. Then Blue Phoenix happened and I left St Davids.”
I picture Jem as a little boy, hurting and alone. “She left you more than once?”
“All the time,” he says, not looking at me. “I could never figure out what I did wrong, why she kept going.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s the one in the wrong. You don’t piss off and leave a little kid to look after himself.”
Jem’s disappearing, retreating into his mind as his shoulders stiffen. “As an eight year old, what else would I think? At least she’d to come back.”