A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Someone is shaking me. I grumble, then shift around, except the bed isn't comfy, so I shift some more. It still feels hard underneath me, and cold. Someone shakes me again, and this time they speak, except none of the words make sense. It doesn't even sound like the person is speaking English. It's still dark, anyway. Not time to wake up yet.

"Felix!" Annabel's voice snaps sense back into me, and I flick my eyes open.

Standing above me is a small woman dressed in a bright yellow reflective--Oh, shit, it's a police officer.

"Ti'n iawn, bach?"

Huh, fancy that. She wasn't speaking English. Given the language barrier, my response is to scurry off the bench and stand, except I must have gotten up too fast because I stumble. The police officer catches my arm before I fall, and I lower myself back down to sit on the bench. Bit embarrassing.

"Dydych chi ddim yn gallu cysgu fan hyn, dwi'n flin. Oes 'na unrhyw un rydw i'n gallu ffônio?"

"I'm pretty sure she thinks you're homeless," Annabel, who's sitting beside me on the cold, metal bench interjects.

Really? Should I be offended? C'mon, I've got a five o' clock shadow at most. I only shaved yesterday morning.

"Or maybe a runaway. You could pass for under eighteen."

What? No, I couldn't. I clench my jaw to stop myself snapping at Annabel. I go to respond to the woman, who doesn't look much older than me, but she's turned around before I manage to get any words out. She calls to someone in the distance, and given this road has no goddamn street lights, I've got no idea who. As a male figure approaches, I swear I nearly wet myself because Connor's face flashes in my mind, but it's not him. It's another police officer.

As he stops beside the blonde woman, I start rambling."Sorry, I--My bad, I'm fine, honestly. I'm staying near here... I think. It's fine, I can--"

"Where are you staying?" the man questions.

Thank the Almighty Lord himself--Gnesh, God, Zeus, alien overlords, whoever's up there. I'm beyond relieved this guy is someone I can communicate with, not that it'll stop me from looking like a bumbling idiot. I relay the name of Carmen's caravan site, which gets raised eyebrows from the two officers, and the man says something about doing an impressive job of getting myself really, really lost. That gets the biggest eye roll yet from Annabel.

The officers offer me a lift home, and usually I'd be too embarrassed to accept it, but I'm beyond caring. I might as well embrace my idiocy. It's clearly not going anywhere any time soon.

"Heavy night?" the male officer asks me as I hop into the back of their police car at the end of the road.

"Huh? Oh--No, not really. Just a weird one."

The man laughs, but not in a way that makes me feel ridiculed. He sounds genuinely amused. Annabel's sigh at my response is a lot less friendly. Who gave her permission to ride with us, anyway? She doesn't deserve a lift in a police car. In fact, she ceaselessly ripped into me during my emergency vehicle obsession faze when I was a kid.

Once the car has crawled up the gravel driveway of Carmen's cabin, I thank the cops and jump out of it. I half expect them to stay and watch until I start fumbling at the front door to check I get in okay, but the car is already reversing off the driveway as I'm jogging up the wooden steps to the cabin. I'm a little offended.

I open the front door with the assumption I'll be met with darkness and silence, but when I step inside, I freeze at the sight of three pairs of eyes staring back at me.

"Oh, hey, you guys are up early," I say with a slight stutter as Carmen springs up from the armchair a few feet away. "There are, like, no street lights around here. Seriously, it's a miracle this place doesn't turn into The Purge at sunset. If I--"