Unforgotten (Forgiven)

heart rate up in a different way. I ran five miles, then hit the weights, lifting heavier and longer than I normally would in an attempt to keep busy.
It worked, for a while, but when I ran out of steam, bad habits called my name. Just go home. Even if he’s not there, at least you’ll have his cat for company.
There were other places I could’ve gone too. I had friends, and Mia was usually home by now. But for some reason my brain was giving me only two options: go home to Billy, or find a new bed to keep warm.
I went home. I parked the van on the driveway and let myself into the house. The lights were on downstairs, and Billy’s cat was sitting on another stack of clean clothes at the bottom of the stairs, loose silver fur piling up around it. I stepped towards it, hands outstretched, but changed my mind at the last moment, bottled it, and ducked into the kitchen.
It was exactly as I’d left it when I’d last been there yesterday lunchtime, but somehow everything seemed different. On autopilot, I opened the fridge. Blinked, shut it, and opened it again. Damn. My fridge contained more food than it had since the day I bought it. Billy had been shopping. Eggs, milk, cheese, butter. Ham, and a solitary carrot. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what he was going to do with one carrot, but the sight of it made my heart clench in ways I couldn’t describe.
On the middle shelf was a plate wrapped in foil. My name was scrawled on it in biro.
Curious, I lifted the foil and found an omelette topped with another note.
this and supanoodles. it’s all i’ve got, so i guess we’re even

Chapter Five
Billy
I wanted to leave. I wanted to pack up Grey, get on my rusty stolen bike, and pedal us anywhere that wasn’t this suffocating piece of shit town. But I stayed. I braved the Tesco Extra, filled Gus’s fridge with random food, and cooked the only thing I could make that was real food. Yeah, cos he wasn’t the only one with a repertoire of average omelettes.
After, I flopped on the couch with the assumption that it was a waste of time because he wasn’t coming home. I fell asleep, and woke up in the middle of the night to find the duvet from my bed draped over me. Unnerved, I shot upright abruptly enough to irritate my angry shoulder, but stopped short at the large bundle of limbs crammed into the armchair on the other side of the room. Gus. The empty omelette plate was beside him, and he was...fast asleep.
Somehow the sight of him soothed me. My racing heart slowed, and I blew out a steady breath, catching Grey’s eye from his position stretched out beneath the radiator. His sage expression calmed me even more, and for a long moment, everything was as it should’ve been.
But Gus was a big guy, man. There was no way he was comfortable in that chair.
Still, the thought of waking him was impossible, so I settled in for a healthy staring session, taking in every part of him from his thick thighs, strong forearms and broad shoulders, to his smooth olive skin, floppy dark hair, and the kindest face I’d ever known.
Not that I knew him. Even when this town had been my home, Gus Amour had been a mystery. His amiable smile was skin-deep, and I wanted to know what lurked beneath. He’d nursed his dying mother like we had my dad. Endured his sister flaking out and running away, just as Luke had. How was he not a fucking mess like me?
Because he’s not a selfish little shit.
The insult my conscience threw out took me back to the douchebag encounter after work. To be honest, I’d expected it. Being parked outside the house of a more junior douchebag I’d come to blows with over a weed deal gone south had been a bad idea from the start. Time healed some wounds, but others festered. Rage became a dormant preoccupation until something triggered it back to life. Barry Keane had always wanted to lamp me one for decking his son. Shame—for him, at least—he was all mouth.
His words still haunted me, though. Scumbag. He was the second person to call me that in as many days, and it was starting to get under my skin, needle pricks at first, but then ants that crawled all over me.
I stood, letting the duvet fall away. It looked wrong crumpled on the floor. I picked it up, folded it, and put it on the couch, but it didn’t take enough cerebral effort to distract me from the anxiety dancing in my nerves. Pacing was my usual go-to when I felt like this, but Gus was asleep.
A smoke would help.
I crept out of the living room and into the kitchen. Gus’s work hoodie was in a pile by the washing machine. I bundled it up with the sweatshirt and tee I’d been wearing all day and put a load on, hoping he wouldn’t mind that I’d washed his clothes with my scuzzy threads. Cigarettes were still calling my name, so I let myself out of the back door and stood in the cold, shirtless and shivering.
Goose bumps prickled my skin, and my hair blew in my face. I turned away from the wind to light up and found Grey at the window, watching, as ever, with his owlish stare. Did he want to come out? Would he run if he did? I didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. As soon as I had enough cash for a train ticket somewhere new, I was gone, and I was taking him with me.
If he wanted to come. Maybe he’d like Gus better. Most people did.
“You must be freezing.”
I jumped and spun around, nearly braining myself on a hanging basket. Gus was at the back door, sleepy,