“It was Poe.” My mouth falls open. “And yes to all of your previous questions. Including the horse one, in case you were wondering,” she winks, disappearing back into the bathroom, while my mouth snaps shut at that last bit of oversharing.
“You know I love you, and I want to hear all about how you guys ended up shagging, but you can keep the explicit deets about Poe’s giant dick to yourself, please.” I make a gagging noise and get up to join her in the bathroom. I perch on the edge of the tub while she gets ready and tells me Poe found her at the beach last night and how they finally managed to work it out.
“So, basically, you both realized you were being ridiculous and decided to put us all out of our collective misery,” I state, and she chuckles.
“Yeah, pretty much. He wants to take me out for a belated birthday dinner tonight. He says it will be our first real date,” she says with a happy glow.
“Well, thank God. I was getting worried the two of you were too stubborn for either of you to give an inch. Or nine inches in Poe’s case,” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively.
“Hey, now! I thought we weren’t discussing that,” she laughs, arching an eyebrow in my direction.
“Yeah, yeah. That one was too good to pass up, though. I couldn’t just leave it hanging there.” The double entendre sets both of us off in peals of laughter.
Stella goes to her closet to get dressed, and I pick up her jacket from the arm of the wingback chair, slipping it on over my sweater.
“Stell, I love this jacket,” I say, admiring the way the deep sapphire blue leather hugs my torso.
“You should,” she says from the depths of her enormous walk-in closet, “you picked it out for me.”
“Ha! You’re right. Damn, I have good taste.” Slipping my hands into the pockets, I turn from side to side, checking how the jacket looks from different angles in the mirror. I pull my hands out just as Stella emerges from the closet and asks if she looks okay. I’m unable to answer though, as I’m rendered utterly silent, staring in horror at the small baggie of white powder resting in the palm of my hand.
“Sun?” she asks. “Sunday, what’s wrong?” I look up at her slowly, holding my hand out toward her.
“What the hell is this?” My voice is devoid of emotion, flat and hard. Stella looks like I slapped her in the face.
“It’s nothing. When I was leaving the party last night, a guy outside slipped it to me. I swear Sunday, that’s all. I honestly forgot it was even in my jacket pocket.” She strides over to me and grabs the baggie from my hand, hurrying into the bathroom with it. I hear the crinkling of plastic, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing twice. When she comes back to stand in front of me, her eyes are wide, her face is pale, and the baggie is gone. “Talk to me Sunday,” she begs. “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry.”
Looking my best friend straight in the eyes, I’m silent for a few seconds longer, knowing that my story could change everything between us.
“We have to talk,” I say. “But not here.”
We’re seated at a small table in a quiet corner of The Romney, a kitschy brunch place on the historic main drag of Folkestone. The ride here was awkward, with Stella shooting me uncomfortable and worried glances the whole way. Now that we’re here, I don’t exactly know how to start.
A young waitress introduces herself as Anastasia and asks if we would like some coffee. We both say yes, and when she comes back with our cups and the carafe, I realize she looks familiar.
“Do you go to Woodington?” I ask with genuine curiosity, and she flushes slightly.
“I do.”
“I thought I recognized you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sunday, and this is Stella,” I offer, gesturing across the table.
“Uh, it’s nice to meet you guys too,” she says with a small smile. “Do you want a few minutes before you order?”
“That would be great. Thanks, Anastasia.” I answer.
“Stassi. My friends call me Stassi.”
“Thanks, Stassi.” I give her a grin, and she takes the coffee carafe around to the other customers.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, Sunday?” Stella asks, worry in her voice. I play with my coffee cup a little, psyching myself up for the conversation about to happen before answering.
“Remember when I mentioned Sandringham? When we were packing up in New York?” I ask.
“Yeah. Old sitcoms because they thought they kept you docile.”
Damn, she’s got a good memory.
“That’s the place.” I swallow hard. “Well, see, Sandringham is—” I’m interrupted by both my phone and Stella’s pinging with multiple texts at the same time. “What the hell?” Neither one of us has even managed to pull our phones from our purses when mine starts to play Alexis on Fire’s ‘Season of the Flood’—Payne’s ringtone. I answer and hold the phone to my ear. “Miss me already, Emerson?” I joke, trying a little too hard and laughing a little too loud.
“Sunday. Where are you?” His voice is rushed and forceful and a little scary.
“At The Romney with Stella. Why? What’s wrong?” I stare across the table at my best friend, identical looks of concern creeping across our faces. Reaching out, I grab her hand.
“Don’t move. We’re just down the road. We’ll be right there.” With that, he disconnects the call, leaving Stella and me to sit and wait for them. Luckily, they must really have been just down the road because Payne and Poe stride into the restaurant and beeline for our table three minutes later. Hastily pulling chairs from an empty neighboring table, they squish around the small table with us. Poe leans over and kisses Stella softly on the forehead before taking her hand in his.
“What’s going on?” she asks him, almost too quietly to hear. Payne scoots closer to me, and I welcome his hand taking mine without complaint.
“Callum is dead, Star. The police say it happened sometime between three and five this morning.” Poe watches his girlfriend’s face carefully for signs of distress. The way he looks at her makes my heart sing.
She so deserves to be happy.
“Oh. Okay,” Stella pauses. “Well, I guess everybody was sort of waiting for that to happen, right? It’s not like it was entirely unexpected—he’s been in a coma for weeks now.” Except for a bit of a pink flush staining her cheeks, she doesn’t look too concerned about the news. She is right after all; it’s not entirely unexpected. And to be honest, Callum Torsten deserved a hell of a lot worse than dying oblivious in a hospital bed after what he did. “Wait. Did you say police?” she asks, confused. “Why are there police?”
Both Payne and Poe shift their focus to me, and suddenly I’m really uncomfortable.
“What? Spit it out already. The suspense is killing me.” I may be trying to make jokes on the outside, but my insides are a vibrating bundle of nerves. Payne squeezes my hand tighter as Poe continues.
“The police are involved because they say there was foul play involved, that he didn’t die of natural causes.”
“He was murdered? Again?” I crack.
Okay, that one was probably in bad taste.
“Look, I suppose it’s shitty and all, but the guy was a monster. And I still don’t see how this concerns us or what the problem is.” Even I can hear the confusion in the tone of my voice, and I don’t like the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“This is the problem.” Like ripping off a band-aid, Poe flicks to a photo on his phone and turns the screen to face me. I feel all the blood drain from my face, and I squeeze Payne’s hand hard enough to grind the bones together. “It's the screencap the cops pulled from the security footage outside Callum’s room early this morning. This is their number one suspect.”
Stella’s looking at each of us in turn, confused as all hell, and I start to rock back and forth in my chair, squeezing my eyes shut and silently willing Poe to put the photo away.
“It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be,” I chant under my breath over and over, seemin
gly unable to stop.
“Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on right fucking now,” Stella growls. I open my eyes to see her looking like she’s about to climb across the table to wrap me in a hug. Payne is the one who speaks up.
“That looks a hell of a lot like Charles Wessex Easton. Sunday’s brother.” My best friend’s eyes nearly bug out of her head.
“Wha—,” she pauses, shocked. “Charlie? I thought he was dead!”
Feeling like I’m going insane, I’m not in control of my faculties and can’t stop the squeaky, loony laughter that starts erupting out of me.
“So did I. Welcome to Folkestone, where people are sometimes only mostly dead.” And with that, I start to slide sideways in my chair, and everything goes dark.
Playlists
Fractured Things - Stella’s Playlist
Available on Spotify
‘Guest Room’ - Echos
‘Chances’ - Cloquet
‘From Liquid’ - Mr.Kitty
‘Like The Sun’ - Programm
‘Interlude’ - Enter Shikari
‘Lost Angels’ - Troi Irons
‘High’ - Anavae
‘All Of Me’ - The Score Ft. Travis Barker
‘She’s Not There’ - Yonaka
‘Whirl’ - Soft Kill
‘Digital Bath’ - The Anix
‘Still Healing’ - EDDIE
‘Basic Needs’ - Jonathan Davis
’Fade to Blue’ - Roniit
‘Strange Days’ - HEALTH
‘Trust’ - Milk & Bone
‘The Red’ - Chevelle
‘Black Gives Way To Blue’ - Alice In Chains
‘Sweet Emotion’ - Aerosmith
‘Be Quiet and Drive’ - Deftones
‘New High’ - Trevor Something
‘Underground’ - Redlight King
Fractured Things - Poe’s Playlist
Available on Spotify
‘21 Devils’ - Super Cruel ft. Ocean Grove
‘The Hierophant’ - Of Allies
‘Manifest’ - Starset
‘Kill The Sun’ - Cane Hill
‘The Offering’ - Sleep Token
‘Another Life’ - Motionless In White
‘In the Dark’ - Silence
‘Julia’ - mewithoutYou
‘Calliope’ - Matt Lange
‘Resentment’ - A Day To Remember
‘Her Eyes’ - Fame on Fire
‘Erase The Pain’ - Palisades
‘My Demons’ - Starset
‘Blurry (Out of Place)’ - Crown The Empire
‘Drag the Lake’ - The Amity Affliction
‘Calm Snow’ - I See Stars
‘Bulletproof’ - From Ashes to New
‘The Rift’ - Chappaqua Wrestling
‘Glitter’ - Rafferty
‘Outside’ - Staind
‘Halo’ - Boston Manor
‘Behind Blue Eyes’ - Limp Bizkit
Acknowledgments
Fractured Things was born in a time of uncertainty and instability in the world unlike any in recent memory. I sincerely hope the Heirs managed to bring you some enjoyment and distraction.
Steph, thank you again for everything. You’re always there for me and I appreciate that more than I can express. You, Brent, and Oli are family and that’s something I value beyond measure.
Brandi. Your friendship and help and support and therapy and everything else helps keep me sane. You know I couldn’t do this without you, and I would never want to. So pull out the tequila, and buckle up. The ride is only going to get crazier from here.
Gina, thank you for your gorgeous graphics, for the advice when I don’t know what I’m doing, and for coming on board. I’m so happy you’re here.
Rumikins, I’m #sorrynotsorry for my tendency to stray from the expected and for dashing your hopes for a reconciliation. Your mad proofing skills are invaluable to me. I hope I did better on the spaces this time.
My street team - Laura, Kari, Ashley, Melissa, Noreen, Sophie, Katie, Victoria, Jami, Anja, Tara, Kerrie, and Ria - the support from all of you, and the friendships that have been formed, make my heart happy. You are all fabulous women who I am honoured to have in my life. Thank you for every single thing you do. I am humbled.
Cassie, thank you again for the beautiful cover.
Shales, you’re still the bomb. Everything you create for me is so pretty and I truly enjoy working with you.
Boo Radley, you are my rock, my heart, and my home. You and Winnie make sure I feel loved everyday. P.S. If you ever scare me like that again, we’re gonna have words. Just saying’. Kisses.
Mum, I miss your face. Can you please just move out here already? If the craziness of the world right now has taught me one thing, it’s that you’re too far away. Love you and can’t wait to see you in person.
To all of my friends and family, thank you again for your support, your love, and your tolerance of me being forgetful and absent.
To all of the readers I have the pleasure of interacting with, thank you. For your support, for your comments, for your love of the written word in general. You guys make me want to keep writing and to keep getting better at it. There is so much more to come, and I hope you all stick around for the ride.
Also by Samantha Lovelock
Now Available
Read the beginning of Stella and Poe’s story
Fragile Things (Folkestone Sins Book One)
Coming Soon - Preorder Available Now
Look for the beginning of Sunday and Payne’s story, coming February 2021
Restless Things (Folkestone Sins Book Three)
About the Author
Samantha Lovelock is a sarcastic individual with a decent sense of humour, darknesses hidden in mind-closets that occasionally Jack-in-The-Box her unsuspecting ass, and a love and loyalty for her friends and family that runs deeper than any ocean. Her guy means the world to her, and so does her cat; sometimes even in that order. Her Mum is her hero, hands down. She proudly wears the crown of a Queen of Innuendo, and of Name That Tune, and has never met a cliffhanger she didn’t like. She lives in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies with her British cowboy and their Norwegian Forest Cat, Winston Churchill.
Fractured Things (Folkestone Sins Book 2) Page 18
