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Chapter 4
Matt was sick the next morning, to be expected after a night of lavish drinking. Dany watched him with a sort of sad exhaustion, fascinated that someone could lose their stomach contents so early in the morning.
He knew he looked like crap. A strange combination of sheet white and green tinted his skin. His eyes looked like he’d been sneezing for hours on end.
Nevertheless, before breakfast, before anything, Matt snugly robed Dany in one of his thermal jackets. It hung on her small frame like a dress, but it would keep her warm. He swallowed painkillers dry, heedless of his raw stomach, and took her out by the hand to his black Ford F-150.
A thick silence governed the drive to Anchorage. Every time Matt caught Dany staring at him, she shot her eyes away at the window, pretending like she’d been looking at the passing scenery the whole time. An uneasiness crawled under his skin that had little to do with him being hungover. When he asked, Dany begrudgingly gave him directions to Clive’s house.
Something about the idea of returning to her mother scared her. Why, he couldn’t tell. As the Ford ate up the kilometres, she wrung her hands, fighting to control herself. Until she just surrendered and cried. It broke Matt’s heart, but what could he do?
He vaguely recognized the house when he parked in the street. A few months ago it had been empty. Jack’s son eyed the place, intending to buy it so his commute would be easier. But some guy from Texas plucked it first. Matt turned his attention to Dany, noting the sudden paleness, as if the child witnessed some great tragedy.
"Come on, let’s go." His voice came out raspy and aloof, though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Something was wrong. But hell if he knew what.
She squeezed quivering lips together and made no effort to stop the free-flowing tears.
"What is it? Are you afraid of the consequences of running away?"
"She wouldn’t have cared," she replied softly.
Matt inclined his head, which was still jackhammering away after the painkillers. Why would she say that? She sniffed, sobbed, breath shuddering out.
Matt pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. When he’d shoved his miserable body out of bed, drinking the last bit of brandy had crossed his mind.
The idea died quickly when he became violently ill. Then he’d thought of it again. But seeing Dany on the floor made him reconsider. He had to be in good condition to drive her home, after all.
No matter how he felt, this was the way of things. He couldn’t keep her from her mother. She might’ve been family, but she was a minor. Of all people, Matt knew the consequences of the long arm of the law when it came to kidnapping. But seeing her reaction raised his hackles.
He told himself she was just afraid of her mother’s reprimand. He could talk to Helen. They hadn’t had words with each other in years, but this didn’t concern their issues. It was about Danae. Maybe the child missed him. Had she even been old enough to remember him?
He placed a hand on Dany’s shoulder, stroked it soothingly. "Alright,...
He knew he looked like crap. A strange combination of sheet white and green tinted his skin. His eyes looked like he’d been sneezing for hours on end.
Nevertheless, before breakfast, before anything, Matt snugly robed Dany in one of his thermal jackets. It hung on her small frame like a dress, but it would keep her warm. He swallowed painkillers dry, heedless of his raw stomach, and took her out by the hand to his black Ford F-150.
A thick silence governed the drive to Anchorage. Every time Matt caught Dany staring at him, she shot her eyes away at the window, pretending like she’d been looking at the passing scenery the whole time. An uneasiness crawled under his skin that had little to do with him being hungover. When he asked, Dany begrudgingly gave him directions to Clive’s house.
Something about the idea of returning to her mother scared her. Why, he couldn’t tell. As the Ford ate up the kilometres, she wrung her hands, fighting to control herself. Until she just surrendered and cried. It broke Matt’s heart, but what could he do?
He vaguely recognized the house when he parked in the street. A few months ago it had been empty. Jack’s son eyed the place, intending to buy it so his commute would be easier. But some guy from Texas plucked it first. Matt turned his attention to Dany, noting the sudden paleness, as if the child witnessed some great tragedy.
"Come on, let’s go." His voice came out raspy and aloof, though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Something was wrong. But hell if he knew what.
She squeezed quivering lips together and made no effort to stop the free-flowing tears.
"What is it? Are you afraid of the consequences of running away?"
"She wouldn’t have cared," she replied softly.
Matt inclined his head, which was still jackhammering away after the painkillers. Why would she say that? She sniffed, sobbed, breath shuddering out.
Matt pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. When he’d shoved his miserable body out of bed, drinking the last bit of brandy had crossed his mind.
The idea died quickly when he became violently ill. Then he’d thought of it again. But seeing Dany on the floor made him reconsider. He had to be in good condition to drive her home, after all.
No matter how he felt, this was the way of things. He couldn’t keep her from her mother. She might’ve been family, but she was a minor. Of all people, Matt knew the consequences of the long arm of the law when it came to kidnapping. But seeing her reaction raised his hackles.
He told himself she was just afraid of her mother’s reprimand. He could talk to Helen. They hadn’t had words with each other in years, but this didn’t concern their issues. It was about Danae. Maybe the child missed him. Had she even been old enough to remember him?
He placed a hand on Dany’s shoulder, stroked it soothingly. "Alright,...
