Free Winter's Light by Mj Hearle Page B

register his tanned, muscular torso in cheek-reddening detail.
    ‘This should fit,’ she said, holding out the sweater and trying not to look at him. This was nearly an impossible task.
    ‘Thanks again, Winter, this is . . .’ he paused, searching for the words to express himself ‘. . . more than I expected from you. I mean, I-I don’t —’ he stammered, clearly worried she’d mistake his gratitude for condescension.
    ‘Don’t mention it,’ Winter said, flashing him an awkward smile. He seemed unbothered, standing in her bathroom naked. Unfortunately, she was less comfortable. Feeling herself grow more flushed by the second, Winter backed out of the room. ‘I’ll go check on the food.’
    Sam nodded, and she saw again that expression of sincere gratitude. Walking to the kitchen, she understood why he was so touched by her compassion. The last time they’d seen each other they’d been on opposite sides – Winter with Blake, Sam with the Bane. Enemies. Despite this, she couldn’t find any anger in her heart. Conflict and confusion, yes, but no anger. It was hard to hate someone who had just saved your life. The Sam who was standing naked in her bathroom wasn’t the same boy who had pursued her to Pilgrim’s Lament. He was sadder, lonelier – an orphan. Just like her.
    The food was nearly ready, the clear plastic lid of the container rendered opaque with steam. She could hear the food inside sizzle and pop. Just before the microwave timer counted down to one she stopped the cycle, a habit she’d picked up from Lucy who also hated the timer’s shrill tone, and using a tea towel shifted the Tupperware to the table. A plume of steam billowed out, carrying with it the smell of melted cheese, fish and tomatoes as she lifted the top.
    The table set, Winter took a seat and let out a deep sigh. Nefertem, who had been lurking beneath the kitchen table, leapt up onto her lap. While she stroked his soft ginger fur, she realised something was missing. She was tired, stressed and more than a little on edge with the prospect of Benedict lurking outside, but she wasn’t sad. The darkness that had lurked at the periphery of her vision ever since losing Blake was gone. She couldn’t stop a hopeful smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth.
    The sound of an engine humming as it came up the driveway chased the smile from her face. Lucy had come home early! Shooing Nefertem off her lap, Winter dashed into the hallway and beat loudly on the bathroom door.
    ‘Sam? My sister’s home!’ There was no reply from inside and the shower was still running. With the noise of the water Sam mustn’t have been able to hear her. Winter knocked again, growing more panicked. Sam’s photograph had been trumpeted by all the media outlets, usually accompanied by a bold headline that said, ‘WANTED FOR MURDER’.
    If Lucy came home and found a naked boy in her bathroom she’d be outraged – if she came home and found a naked criminal in her bathroom there was no telling what she’d do. Scream? Call the police? Attack Sam with a kitchen knife?
    Downstairs she could hear the garage door groan as it was pulled down, followed by voices. Great! Dominic was with her. The situation had just become more precarious.
    ‘Sam – you need to hide!’ she yelled through the door before remembering the crossbow and the other paraphernalia he’d left in the kitchen – the duffle bag, the blood-splattered trenchcoat, the oil burner, the machete.
    She bounded down the hallway feeling a glimmer of relief when she heard the shower finally shut off. Hopefully, Sam was hiding himself. If he wasn’t there was nothing she could do now. Listening keenly for her sister’s approach – they were coming up the stairs now! – she rushed around the kitchen, haphazardly piling his belongings into the duffle bag. She stumbled quickly to her room, dumped the bag, and slammed the door just as Lucy and Dominic stepped into the hallway.
    ‘Win,’ Lucy