The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless. Hannah McKinnon Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ ABBY

      “COME ON, SARAH.” I stood by our front door with a bottle of chilled white wine in my hand. Nate always said people liked chardonnay. I hoped he was right. Sarah trudged down the stairs in her new boots at a glacial pace before giving me an uninspired look.

      “Why do I have to go?”

      I stifled another sigh. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

      She glanced at the bottle. “What if they don’t drink?”

      “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

      “You don’t drink.”

      My eyes darted involuntarily to Tom’s photograph. “No, I don’t,” I snapped, then took a deep breath. Sarah hadn’t had anything to do with the accident—she hadn’t even been born.

      “But what if they’re recovering alcoholics?” she gasped and put a hand to her mouth in a deliberately dramatic gesture. “Or Muslim? Or Amish?”

      “Don’t be a smarty-pants, Sarah.”

      “Wowzers, Mum. I can be smart without even trying.”

      I counted to ten in my mind. Slowly. I knew exactly what she was doing. She thought if she annoyed me enough I’d lose my temper and tell her to stay at home. Too bad for her, I used to play the exact same game with my mother. For once I was half a step ahead of her.

      I smiled. “Yes, you can be. Come on. Time to go.”

      She pouted as she pulled on her jacket, and I made sure I kept my expression neutral to avoid another feud. A minute later we plodded over to the neighbors and rang the doorbell.

      A teenage boy who looked like he’d been stretched like a rubber band opened the door. “Can I help you?” His voice was deep, gravelly and a little on the husky side.

      “Hi.” I smiled. “I think you still have my husband.”

      He gave a blank look, then flicked his shock of chocolate-brown, gold-streaked hair.

      “Nate from next door,” I offered, and put a hand to my chest. “I’m Abby. This is Sarah.”

      He smiled. Sort of. “Oh, yeah. Come on in,” he said in a monotone, then turned and called out, “Mum, it’s the neighbors.”

      A woman’s voice came from the back of the house. “Great. Bring them in, Zac.”

      “Go on through.” Zac gestured with his hand.

      I walked into the eccentrically wallpapered hallway, which always reminded me of The Who’s Magic Bus. Barbara had loved bright colors and flowers, and almost every room was papered in a different pattern. She used to say it meant spring sprang eternal in her home. We always assumed she’d eaten a lot of magic mushrooms in the seventies.

      As we made our way down the hall, the sweet perfume of apples and cinnamon filled the air, warm and inviting. Zac disappeared up the stairs, and Sarah and I continued to the kitchen. A candle—one of those scented ones—glowed in the middle of a table otherwise covered in stacks of plates, glasses and cutlery.

      Nate leaned against the fridge with his arms crossed and a half-full Heineken in one hand. “Hey.” He smiled.

      A woman with long, curly brown hair in an untidy ponytail took two steps toward us. When she smiled, her face lit up like a very pretty fairground.

      “Hi.” She threw a rag on the counter and wiped her hands on her jeans before stretching one out toward me.

      “This is Abby.” Nate winked at me. “Abby, this is Nancy.”

      “It’s great to meet you.” Nancy shook my hand, and I noticed how warm and silky her skin felt. “Nate’s told us so much about you already. And your daughter.” She looked past me. “You must be Sarah. It’s such a pleasure, really, it is.” I didn’t know the woman, but she seemed incredibly nervous, almost desperately keen to make a good impression.

      “Uh, hello,” Sarah mumbled back. She still got embarrassed when introduced to strangers. It concerned me sometimes, especially if she wanted to follow her dreams and become a journalist. Nate always said she’d be fine; she’d make her own path. I worried she’d never find it to begin with.

      “Liam—that’s my husband—went out for more beer.” Nancy laughed. “We only had two in the house. Not nearly enough to get rid of the pain from lifting all those boxes.”

      “I told you we had some.” Nate grinned at Nancy. It was his charming smile, the one he used to disarm people, the one that made them feel comfortable. I swear he never noticed how effective it was. Sometimes I didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

      “No way.” Nancy waggled a finger. “You’ve already helped so much. We couldn’t take your beer, as well. It would add more abuse to your injuries, or whatever the expression is.”

      “Insult to injury.” I caught Nate’s look. I often did that. Corrected people, even when it was irrelevant. Such a bad habit. I plastered my own smile on my face and mouthed, “Sorry,” at Nate. I waved the bottle of wine around in midair. “I brought this. Hope you like chardonnay.”

      “Absolutely love it.” Nancy took the bottle from me and set it on the table. “That’s so sweet of you. And thanks for lending us your hubby.” Nancy pointed at Nate. “He’s a hero, you know. Helped us carry the heavy things inside and even fixed the leaky toilet upstairs.” She laughed again. It was a warm laugh, nervous perhaps, but kind and genuine. I had a feeling I’d like her husband, too, if he had a personality similar to hers. She clicked her tongue. “It would have taken Liam six months to get around to it. But Nate? He rolled up his sleeves and voilà.”

      When Sarah hummed the Bob the Builder tune, I poked her in the ribs, and she huffed as if I’d deflated her like a balloon.

      The front door opened. “I’m back,” a man called out. “Who needs a drink?”

      A shiver shot down my spine. That voice. That unmistakable voice. Deep and silky. Sexy. You never forget a voice like that. Not when the memory of words spoken, even after all this time, still made my knees buckle. I tried not to gasp, and bit my tongue as images flashed into my mind, the ones I tried hard not to think of when I was in bed with Nate. Arms and legs entwined. Gasping, groaning, sweaty backs and my cries of, “Fuck me, Liam. Harder. Harder.”

      It’s not something I’d ever said to Nate. He probably would have blushed.

      The footsteps were coming down the hallway, had almost reached the kitchen.

      And there was nowhere for me to go.

      No escape.

      No place to hide.

       THEN ABBY

      IT WAS NEW YEAR’S EVE, and I’d decided if the last few minutes were anything to go by, nineteen ninety-two was going to be absolute crap.

      My boyfriend СКАЧАТЬ