Unforgotten (Forgiven)

Also available from Garrett Leigh
and Carina Press
Forgiven
Also available from Garrett Leigh
What Matters
Redemption
Kiss Me Again
Falling For My Roommate
Misfits
Strays
Slide
Rare
Circle
Lucky
Cash
Jude
Dream
Whisper
Believe
Between Ghosts
Only Love
Rented Heart
Soul to Keep
Fated Hearts
House of Cards
Junkyard Heart
Hometown Christmas
What Remains
Bullet
Bones
Bold
The Edge of the World


Unforgotten
Garrett Leigh


For my foxes, as ever, with love


Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Excerpt from Forgiven by Garrett Leigh
Also Available from Garrett Leigh


Chapter One
Billy
The end of summer always seemed like the end of the world. My favourite cat dashed across the yard with the wind up him, chasing the first of the fallen leaves with limited success, and I mourned the endless evenings when Grey did the same with wily butterflies.
I loved that cat. He was my only real friend. He sat outside my “office” all day and walked me home from the pub every night. On the rare nights I didn’t stay out drinking, he kipped on the stairs outside the caravan I rented at the yard, scowling at me through the windows as if I’d refused him entry when in fact he’d refused to come in.
Workdays were dull as rocks. When customers turned up to dump their junk, or raid the piles of abandoned crap stacked up around the yard, I stood around and pretended to give a shit as I passed cash back and forth and skimmed myself a cut from the top.
When customers weren’t around, I sat in the yard’s porta-cabin and entertained myself on Tinder, messaging blokes I’d never have the bottle to go and meet, and talking up the ladies with similar results. I didn’t get hook-up apps. I mean, I did, as in I understood their function in the new world order, but I couldn’t reconcile myself with a first-time meet for the sole purpose of having sex. I wanted to do it. Maybe. I just...couldn’t.
Perhaps I was shy.
The thought made me laugh out loud. In real life, I was anything but, and struggled to keep my mouth shut in circumstances where my opinion added nothing to the situation but hassle I didn’t have time for. Online, it seemed I was a creeper with blue fucking balls.
A truck pulled into the yard. I abandoned my feline observation post with a heavy sigh and painted my best attempt at an amiable expression onto my face. Though paired with my tattoos, wild hair, and natural mean mug, it probably came off as a scowl. On my way out of the cabin, I caught my reflection in a broken car mirror. Yup. Definitely a scowl. Must try harder.
Story of my life.
The truck was a Ford Ranger, souped up with giant rims and a spotless paint job—clear signs that whoever got out was going to be a prize wanker. I braced myself but even with a lifetime behind me was emotionally unprepared for the absolute helmet that came around the bonnet to meet me. From his gelled comb-over to his pristine Nike Air Max, the bloke was a grade-A twat and had no business rocking up in a muddy, potholed scrapyard.
I suppressed another sigh. “What can I do for you, mate?”
“I’m looking for a water pump kit.”
“For what vehicle?”
“Fiesta.”
“Year?”
“Ninety-one.”
“XR2?”
“Yeah.”
Of course it was, cruiser, no doubt. Burning up and down country roads like a fucking goon. I turned away so I could roll my eyes undetected and led Captain Comb-over to the corner of the yard where engine parts were haphazardly piled under handwritten signs that denoted the manufacturer. “Might have one in this lot.” I pointed at a particularly jumbled stack. “Have a root around. If you find what you need, come get me and I’ll give you a price.”
“You want me to find it myself?”
I took a slow spin around to face the dude again. “Yes, mate. Just like Tesco. I’ll be in the cabin.”
It amused me far more than it should’ve to walk away whistling, but I knew a wanker when I saw one, and there was no way I was getting my hands dirty when I could happily watch from indoors with a brew in my hand.
I retreated to the cabin and stuck the kettle on, only half watching Comb-over pick his way through the piles of junk. My phone buzzed with a text. With its cracked screen, only half the message was visible. Just as well. I didn’t need the daily reminder from the bank that I was terminally overdrawn.
Boredom had me swiping through the rest of my texts, a task that took approximately ten seconds as the only messages I had were two-word grunts from my brother, and essays from my mother that I deleted without reading. I really didn’t give a shit that she was having the time of her life in Spain with her ex-pat new fella. That she was happy was enough—I didn’t need the details.
A crash from the yard brought me back to the present. I glanced out of the window just in time to see Comb-over jump back as a water pump fell from the precarious stack he’d built from his rummaging. My boss—Dench—had warned me a hundred times not to let customers fuck around on their own, but I didn’t give a shit about that either. As far as I was concerned, if they dropped something on their head, it was natural selection.
You’re an arsehole.
Yep.
Comb-over finally found what he was looking for without killing himself. Curious as ever, Grey sauntered out of the shadows to investigate the gap left by the collection of parts scattered around the yard. My little pal was a ninja, silent and sharp. Comb-over didn’t see him. He stepped back and tripped. A laugh bubbled in my chest, but before it made it out of my mouth, dude bro stuck his foot out and kicked Grey with the toe of his clown shoes.
Grey screeched and disappeared under the wreckage of a written-off car. I burst from the cabin