“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You think Luke’s given me the van so he doesn’t have to deal with your bullshit all the time.”
Denial bubbled up my throat, but it died on my lips as I took in the worry creasing my brother’s usually easy gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Gus went back to the kettle. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Yep, but it’s not my business, and you hate Luke, so—”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Since when?”
“Jesus, Gus. Since ever, okay? Things are just...complicated between us.”
“Everything with you is always complicated.”
“That’s why you love me, though, right?”
Gus sighed. “I guess.”
I took the kettle off him and finished putting it on to boil. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, okay? But I want to know, because I care...about both of you. And if there’s anything I can do, I want to help.”
My brother rarely lost his temper with me, but he was so used to me bitching at him that the few and far between moments when I didn’t often knocked him for six. He frowned dazedly at me for a long moment before he seemed to snap back to the present.
He got two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter with a dull thud. “Luke’s gone away,” he said. “He’s gone to take care of Billy, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Chapter Fourteen
Luke
One day I would learn to trust my gut. Or at least, other people’s. As I sat by my brother’s ICU bed, Mia’s expression when I’d ignored his text haunted me. Fucking idiot had fallen off a garage roof and smashed his shoulder to bits. They’d temporarily fixed it with pins, but he’d inherited the Daley family reaction to general anaesthetics and nearly died on the table before I’d got there. Twat. He was out of the woods now, but fuck if I wasn’t going to kill him myself.
When he woke up.
I shifted in the hard chair I’d taken up residence in when they’d brought him back from surgery. Hours had blurred into days, and I had no idea how long I’d been in the Birmingham hospital. My only comfort was I now had a vague idea of where Billy had been living all this time—a village on the outskirts of the city.
Sighing, I gazed down at him for what felt like the thousandth time, taking in hair that was a little darker than mine, pale skin, and rough stubble. Damn it, he looked just like our dad, and I hated him for that. And I hated him for dragging me all the way up here too, even though I knew there was nowhere else I’d be right now. I hated that I loved him. That I wouldn’t survive it if the doctors were wrong and he really did die on me. Fuck, how would I tell Fran? She was on holiday right now, the first time she’d been away since Dad died. I hadn’t told her. Couldn’t. Not until I could swear to her that everything was gonna be okay.
My phone buzzed.
Gus: u okay?
Luke: yeah
Gus: sure?
Luke: did u finish the church job?
Gus: yes, mate, don’t worry about work. call me if u need anything
He ended every exchange with the same words, but I didn’t call. What was the point? He was doing everything he could do for me already. Besides, misery loves company had never been my thing. There was only one person who’d ever fought her way through.
I let my eyes fall closed as my thoughts drifted to Mia. We hadn’t spoken since she’d told me I couldn’t see her anymore. In a fit of emotion I still didn’t quite understand, I’d left my decade-old bullshit apology on her doorstep, but she hadn’t responded, not even to tell me to drop dead, and somehow silence hurt more than rejection.
Oh the fucking irony, made worse by the fact that I’d always known how much I’d hurt her. That what I felt right now was just a fraction of what I’d put her through. She’d never said, but she’d loved me back then, and knowing it had kept me swimming. On my own with Billy in this fucking hospital, I was drowning without her.
Somehow, I fell asleep. I was woken sometime later by a hard punch to my thigh.
I jumped awake to find Billy conscious and glaring at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Blinking, I uncurled myself from the chair and cracked my neck. “You’re awake then?”
Silence. Billy’s malevolence was brutal. Always had been.
I sat up properly and leaned over him, taking in the signs of stress and pain anyone who didn’t know him might miss—tiny, rapid breaths, tight eyes. He’d broken his wrist once and not told anyone for three days. I moved to brush his messy hair off his forehead.
He caught my hand with his good arm. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t fucking want you to.”
Defeat swept over me. Somehow, in the past few months, the sporadic texts we’d exchanged had led me to believe our relationship had healed a little, but as he shoved my hand away like it burned him, I was struck by the echoes of the last time I’d seen him. He’d been whole and upright then, swaggering drunkenly at the end of Fran’s drive two days after I’d made it home for good.
I’d tried to shake his hand.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Billy—”
“Don’t,” he growled. “Just fuck off. I don’t want you here.”
* * *
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ma. He doesn’t want me here. What am I supposed to do? Cause a fucking scene in the hospital?”
Fran sighed. “Can you at least get along until I get there? I’m flying into Birmingham first thing in the morning.”
Get along. It had been the mantra of my childhood, as far as me and Billy were concerned. Thing was, we did get along...until we didn’t, and then nothing and no one could make it right until one of us backed down. Usually me, because I was the oldest and copped the blame for just about everything. If my parents had been older, wiser, and not winging it, perhaps they’d have fixed us instead.
I said goodbye to Fran and went back inside, retreating to the lobby the nurses on Billy’s ward had banished me to when he’d told the whole world he didn’t want me anywhere near him.
I’d gone the third time they’d asked and was now faced with the prospect of getting a hotel for the night or admitting defeat and leaving Billy to Fran.
The selfish part of me, wounded by Billy’s rejection—and so fucking angry that everything about him had to be so damn difficult—wanted to go home. To rag Fran’s Ford Fiesta back down the motorway and block out another part of my fucked up life. But I couldn’t leave Billy on his own. Not again.
I threw myself into a chair and poked around on my phone, scouting for nearby hotels. As luck would have it, there was a Premier Inn across the road. I booked a room and drifted back to the ward to try and tell Billy where I was going.
The nurse at the desk frowned. “I’ll ask him, but this is the last time. If he doesn’t want to see you, you’re going to have to leave.”
I waited without much hope and was as surprised as the nurse seemed to be when she granted me entry.
“The painkillers might’ve kicked in,” she said. “Either way, visiting time is up in ten minutes.”
I doubted whatever conversation Billy had acquiesced to would take that long, but followed her direction to the corner bed anyway and ducked around the curtain. Billy was sitting up, his shattered shoulder caged in a metal brace, rods protruding from his flesh and bone.
Fuck. I had to look away, even though his derision was harder to face. “I’m getting a hotel for the night.”
“Why?”
“Because Fran won’t be here until tomorrow.”
“So?”
My fists clenched at my sides. Billy didn’t break my gaze, but I knew he saw my frustration. Revelled in it, like he always had, because he inexplicabl
y hated letting people understand him. “So... I’m not going to leave you here on your own.”
Billy laughed, though it was cut off by a wince. “That’s never bothered you before.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Have you?”
“You tell me, bro. You’re the expert on my personality.”
“You don’t have one.”
Ouch. But compared to Billy, I didn’t. Before he’d morphed into ASBO dude, he’d been a goddamn riot. Charismatic. Funny. And just about charming enough to forgive when his fiery temper got the better of him. I’d been the opposite, the moody older brother who’d been happier playing football than talking to people. I’d never quite understood why a girl like Mia had gravitated to me. If she’d looked a year behind instead of ahead, her and Billy could’ve been dynamite together.
“Did you seriously come in here to stare at me?”
“What?”
Billy shook his head. “You’re a freak, man.”
“I’m not the dickhead who fell off a roof.”
“Nah, you’ve got Dad’s ladders and Uncle Jon’s business to keep you safe.”
“You could’ve had all that if you hadn’t fucked your life down the drain instead. Jon wanted to retire years ago.”
Billy made a sound low in his throat. “How the hell would you know? I don’t remember him writing you any letters.”
“He told me when I got back. Said he’d been hanging on, hoping you or me would get our act together so he wouldn’t have to sell.”
“And it was you that saved the day. Shocker.”
“You think I want to spend the rest of my days stapling felt to wood beams?”
“How would I know what you want, bro? You’re a fucking stranger to me.”
My patience finally snapped. “Whose fault is that? You called me a cunt the day I came back, and I haven’t seen you since. Short of putting a tracker on your phone, what was I supposed to do?”
Billy said nothing. Just took a shallow, shuddery breath that made me feel like a selfish arsehole.
Defeated, and my anger fading as fast as it had appeared, I dropped into yet another horrible plastic chair. “Look, we haven’t got long. If there’s something you want to say to me, say it now before they kick me out.”
“What’s the point?” Billy said dully. “Having a row about you fucking off to please yourself on some mutant-sized ship isn’t going to make anything better.”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “Please myself? Wow. You really do think I’m that guy, don’t you?”
“You’ve never told me otherwise.”
I leaned forward in my chair, my face closer to my brother than we’d been in years. “Well, I’m telling you now. Leaving Rushmere was the worst thing I ever did, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”
Chapter Fifteen
Luke
Honesty was hard work, particularly when you were trying to cram ten years into six and a half minutes, and you weren’t entirely convinced the other person was listening.
Billy was asleep by the time the nurse kicked me out, and the notion that he’d missed the punchline of my emotional vomit left me dazed. I wandered outside and drifted to Fran’s car, but didn’t get in. Didn’t pay the parking fees or consider the hotel across the street. Rushmere didn’t feel like home anymore, but it called to me. I wanted the cool solitude of my house, the monotony of my work, and the distracting sanctuary of my fixation with Mia.
My brother hurt my heart.
Eventually, guilt won out. I sent Gus a text telling him I’d be gone another night, rinsed my debit card in the parking metre, and drove fifty feet to the hotel. The Premier Inn was shiny brand new, every corner punctuated with obnoxious purple furniture, but bland enough for me to feel invisible as I traipsed to my room.
Inside, I dropped my phone and keys on a table, but didn’t turn the light on. I liked the dark, craved it when the noise in my head was too loud. When my pulse thrummed too hard and the panic that had seized my chest the day I’d left Rushmere a lifetime ago came rushing back.
I kicked my shoes off and lay down on my rented bed. The letter I’d dumped on Mia’s doorstep was etched in my brain, but contradiction fought hard for dominance. I’d told her I couldn’t stay, but I’d sworn to Billy that I’d never wanted to go.
What was the truth? Did I even know anymore? Had I ever? Or was the conflict too convoluted for an answer?
Fuck, I had no idea, and Billy’s only response to the tale I’d told him echoed in my head. “Why didn’t you ever come home? Ten years, bro. You never came.”
He’d knocked out before I’d whispered my answer. “Because of her.”
* * *
I woke up sweating, and with the stomachache from hell. Fuck’s sake. I knew how this ended. Cursing, I lurched off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, making it just in time to lose the stale sandwiches I’d eaten at the hospital, and what was left of my composure.
When my stomach was empty, I collapsed on the bathroom floor. Everything hurt, but I knew I wasn’t ill. This was fucking classic. When I was little, I’d cry until I threw up. It was my thing—I left the bed-wetting to Billy. I’d grown out of it, obviously, but nausea was still my constant companion when shit got real. I’d always been good at hiding my feelings, but dealing with them, not so much.
I shivered. The cool tile felt good on my heated skin, but it was only a matter of time before cool turned to cold. With a low groan, I heaved myself upright again and trudged back to bed. It had been a long time since I’d puked my worries away, but I felt better. Perhaps purging my guts went hand in hand with finally baring my soul to Billy, even if it had been a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment. Whatever. I was bone-tired and had lost my ability to think sensibly somewhere on the M1 motorway. I just wanted to sleep, and sleep, and sleep some more.
As if on cue, my phone beeped. At home I’d have ignored it, but I was expecting updates from Fran and terrified of another call from the hospital.
I got out of bed again and retrieved my phone from the desk. The incoming message lit up the screen.
Mia: are you okay?
It was a carbon copy of the message I’d sent her after the break-in at her shop. I tapped out an answer and fired it back.
Luke: yes
With her new rules in place, I figured she’d leave it at that. I tossed the phone onto the bed and belatedly realised I was still wearing my jeans. Daley, you’re a fucking mess.
I shucked my clothes and took a much-needed shower. A black cloud clung to me as I stood under the hot spray and I did nothing to shake it free. Just let it darken and fester, and hook itself deeper. A girl I’d hooked up with in Hawaii had once told me my life would be better if I’d let myself cry. Years later, and I still didn’t believe her. Couldn’t, because there was so much behind the dam now, if I let go, I’d never come back.
When I got out of the shower, my phone was flashing. I lunged for it, towel hitting the floor. Mia’s name lit up the screen, and relief and an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher washed over me. It wasn’t the hospital, or my mum, but I didn’t have the energy to handle Mia right now.
Answered the phone anyway, though. I was that guy. “What do you want?”
Mia laughed lowly. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe to check you’re okay?”
“Why?”
“Because Gus told me what happened to Billy, and I remember the two of you well enough to worry you’re not doing too well at being brothers under such extreme circumstances.”
“That right?” Anger flashed through me, even though she was bang on the money. “What makes you the expert on me and my brother?”
“No one mentioned experts, Luke. I was speculating.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t need it. We’re fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
�
�What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Great. Are we done?”
“Why are you being a dick?”
I glowered at my reflection in the nearby window. Was she fucking serious? She’d ordered me to make her come, all the while telling me over and over that we’d never be friends, then she’d kissed me and asked me to fuck her before kicking me to the kerb, and now she wanted to be all up in my shit? “You know what, Mia? Maybe that’s who I am. Do me a favour and forget you know me.”
Hanging up on her felt like the end of the world.
Chapter Sixteen
Mia
I opened the back door and scanned the courtyard, irritation licking through me. It was the third time the school kids hanging around the war memorial had knocked on the window and run away, and I was about ready to harpoon them with my pruning knife.
That was, if I could get close enough to throw it. So far, they’d eluded me.
I slammed the door and got back to work, glad Gus was too busy to hang around and get under my feet. If he were here, I’d have likely hit him with the broom by now.
Still, as annoying as he was, being alone all day wasn’t as relieving as I’d hoped. Turned out I really did take comfort from my burly little brother’s presence, and I was jumpy as hell without him.
Thinking about why he was stretched so thin right now didn’t help either. I heard the click of Luke hanging up on me in my sleep, felt it like a punch to the gut, and despite doing everything I could to push him from my mind, he was all I could think about.
“You’re worried,” Gus said.
“Am not. He’s not my problem.”
“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t care.”
The conversation had, predictably, ended badly, but my denial left a bad taste in my mouth, because the truth was, I was worried. Luke had only been gone a couple of days, and we’d spoken once, but I knew him, even though I didn’t want to. He was struggling, and probably had no one around him who’d noticed.
Forgiven Page 9
