by Claire Raye
“I’ll take a beer,” Josh quickly says, turning to the bar running along the far wall. “Something local.”
Caleb turns to me. “He’s good right?” he asks, gesturing to Josh.
I nod. “He is, yeah. And dude,” I add, turning to my brother. “You gotta carry I.D. You’ll get carded everywhere here.”
“Seriously?” Josh asks.
“Yep,” me and Caleb reply at the same time.
“Huh,” Josh replies, turning to Charlie. “What are you going to have?”
Charlie turns to Caleb, biting her bottom lip as though she’s contemplating trying it on even though she knows there’s not a chance in hell Caleb is going to let her drink in here. He can obviously tell exactly what she’s thinking as he shakes his head, laughing. “Nope, not today, Charlie.”
“Seriously!” she says. “You didn’t ask him!” She points at Josh now, who looks from Charlie to me and back to Charlie with a confused look on his face.
“Yeah, but the difference is, I know you’re underage,” Caleb says with a chuckle.
“You don’t know he isn’t,” she says, waving a hand toward my brother.
“But I’m not,” Josh says, still confused.
Caleb laughs again. “Yeah, but I also know Adam wouldn’t bullshit me. You two on the other hand,” he adds teasingly as he waves a finger between Charlie and Mila.
“Fucking sucks,” Charlie mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just get me a diet coke. Please,” she tacks on, clearly annoyed and wanting to make sure Caleb realizes it.
After Caleb takes our order and leaves, Josh turns to Charlie, leaning on the table as he gives her his undivided attention. “So how old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty,” she pouts.
Josh opens his mouth to say something before he realizes, grinning a little. “Oh fuck, it’s twenty-one over here isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Charlie replies. “And it’s shit because I’m like the only one who can’t drink.”
“Can’t drink here,” he says, his smile widening. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t—”
“Oi,” I say, reaching over to punch his arm. “Behave yourself.”
“What?” Josh says, arms out as if to say, what have I done.
We spend a couple of hours hanging out at the bar, grabbing some dinner and trying to come up with a plan for the next couple of weeks, while Josh is in town. Even though Mila is now walking without crutches, she’s still doing some of her classes online and I want to make sure that either me or Charlie is still around if she needs us.
“You ready to go?” I ask as Josh stifles a yawn.
“Yeah, I’m kinda running on fumes now. I might need to crash soon.”
“Lightweight,” I say with a grin as we make our way outside.
“Whatever.”
When we get back to the apartment, Josh says goodnight to everyone before heading inside.
“I’ll just check he’s got everything and then I’ll be back,” I tell Mila, giving her a quick kiss.
Inside my apartment, I find him standing in front of the empty fridge, the door wide open. “Dude, you literally have nothing here,” he says, glancing back at me.
“Shit, sorry, I shoulda stocked up. I haven’t been staying here these past few weeks. We can get stuff tomorrow, okay?”
Josh closes the door and walks out to the living room. “It’s cool,” he says. “So how are things with you and Mila? You guys seem okay.”
I shrug, knowing to everyone else, we probably do. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
“But…?”
“But I don’t know,” I say, exhaling. “It’s not…” I trail off, unsure how to explain it.
“Where you once were?” he suggests.
I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “No, it’s not, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, cause obviously there was shit I wasn’t telling her back then.” It’s not the full story either, considering there are clearly things Mila isn’t telling me, but I’m not sure I want to get into that with Josh.
“How’d she take all that?” Josh asks. “You and Rachel?”
“Honestly,” I say, pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen bench and sitting down. “Way better than I expected. It’s like it didn’t even faze her at all.”
Josh leans forward, resting his arms on the bench top. “You tell her everything?”
“Uh huh.”
“Engaged? Baby?”
“Yep and yep.”
“Wow,” he says as he blows out a breath. “That is cool.”
“I know,” I reply, running my hand down my face. “After what I did, it was like, I don’t know, the last thing I expected.”
“Well, I mean to be fair, she shouldn’t feel threatened by it or whatever.”
I raise a brow in question. “What, about the fact I was in love with, engaged to, and having a baby with another woman?”
“Yeah, but…” Josh pauses, waving his hand in front of him as though he doesn’t know how to explain it. “Now you’re not and it’s not like she’s…”
“Ever coming back?” I say, finishing his sentence.
“Fuck, Adam,” he says with a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t,” I say, giving him a half smile. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Rachel is gone. Everything from that part of my life is gone.”
“Yes,” he says slowly, nodding in confirmation. “But you are happy now aren’t you, with this life, with Mila?”
“With Mila,” I ask, smiling a little. “Yes, absolutely. I’m fucking crazy about her.”
Josh laughs. “Yeah, you can’t half tell,” he says. “Which kinda makes what I’m about to say really shitty.”
I feel my stomach sink as the smile falls from my face and I look over at my brother. “What is it?”
Josh takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he says, “Rachel’s parents are contesting the estate,” he says quickly, blurting the words out as all of the air leaves my lungs in a rush. “I think they’re pissed off that you haven’t done anything about it for so long, and they want it resolved. Dad wants to fight it, well he wants you to, but I told him to wait, that I’d—”
“God,” I groan, not listening to the rest of what he’s saying. When the fuck is this ever going to end? I’d thought by running away, by cutting off all contact and deleting all my social media, by continuing to close the door on that part of my life, that I could just avoid this shit, but clearly, I can’t. “What you’d say?” I ask, frustrated.
“I said I’d speak to you first,” he says, a grim look on his face. “But unfortunately, dude, I don’t think you can keep hiding from this anymore.”
My head falls as I bury face in my hands, my mumbled “Fuck,” barely audible.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently as he says, “I know you don’t want to do this. I know it hurts and it’s everything you ran away from, but unless you want them to take over, you really need to at least talk to them. Try and sort something out.”
Exhaling, I lift my head and meet my brother’s gaze. “What exactly are they wanting me to do?”
Josh looks around the kitchen now, as though searching for something. “You sure you don’t have any booze here?”
I point to the cupboard above the fridge. “Whisky up there, maybe some bourbon too.”
Nodding, he moves to the cupboard, grabbing the bottle of whisky before rummaging through the cupboards for two glasses. I watch wordlessly as he pours us both a drink, remembering that he’s totally knackered at this point and probably just wants to go to bed.
“I brought some of the paperwork with me,” he eventually says, pushing a glass toward me. “But I don’t think you just looking at it is gonna clear this all up.” He pauses, lifting his glass as he taps the bottom of it against mine and takes a sip. “You need to sort your house, dude. It’s basically sitting th
ere, untouched since you left, all your stuff, all hers, it’s—”
“Seriously?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah,” he replies, taking another sip as he gestures for me to do the same. “Mum and Dad have been looking after it, but apart from sorting the bills and the mortgage, it’s like you just locked the door behind you and left.”
“Fuck,” I murmur, shaking my head as I pick up my glass and swallow the amber liquid in one gulp.
Josh tops me up. “It’s not just that though,” he says.
“Fucking hell, what else?” I ask, wondering how it can possibly get any worse.
How in the hell did I not know my parents were looking after the place Rachel and I bought? That a year later, a year after I walked out without so much as a goodbye, that they’re still paying the bills and taking care of everything. That everything is inside, untouched, almost like a shrine to my former life.
And to think I already feel like a total arsehole for the way I’ve treated my family.
Josh meets my eyes, his so full of sorrow as he stares back at me, an expression on his face that tells me this is hard for him too.
“It’s her ashes,” he eventually says as a sudden pain lances through my chest. “They’re still sitting in your old bedroom at the folk’s house.”
Suddenly the walls of my apartment feel like they’re closing in on me, the room becoming unbearably hot and stuffy. I remember the day they came. It was the same day I packed up my bags and got the fuck out of there. I’d been crashing at my parents’ place since I’d gotten home from the hospital, barely surviving as someone else organized the funeral and all the other shit that needs to be done when someone dies.
I’d done fuck all, blocking it all out and ignoring everything and everyone. God knows what I’d have done if my parents hadn’t been there.
I thought I’d been managing it too. But obviously I wasn’t, because the day her ashes showed up is the day everything truly fell apart.
“What about them?” I finally get out, my throat raw, my words quiet.
Josh lets out a long breath as he puts his glass down. “They wanna know if you’re ever going to lay her to rest,” he eventually says, his words quiet as I throw back my second glass of whisky.
Chapter Nineteen
Mila
The alarm goes off on my phone like it does every Friday morning; a reminder to get up and go to class, but today is different. Adam doesn’t know this as he lies beside me in bed, his eyes fluttering a little at the quiet chime playing, as I reach over to silence it.
“Don’t go yet,” Adam whispers groggily, his voice still weighed down with sleep. “You smell good and you’re warm and I need five more minutes.”
I move closer, my lips resting against the warmth of his bare chest, my fingers tracing the scar that mars his perfect body. The tattoos are a cover up, something to hide what he hates, but those scars tell a story, a story he’s only just starting to overcome.
I hate that I’m lying to him, that I’m keeping from him that I’m not actually going to class but rather to my first therapy appointment. It’s almost easier for him, everything he’s been through shows on his outward appearance. My scars are all hidden inside, and sometimes that makes me feel like I’m not nearly as broken, that what I went through isn’t trauma but just some bullshit I created in my own head.
I swallow hard, forcing back the tears that I keep trying to avoid. I haven’t just lied to Adam, I’ve lied to Ruby, to Charlie, and to myself for so long, and today is the day that things start to change. All I can hope is that I’m able to say it out loud.
“I’ll see you after class,” I whisper into the stillness of the room. It’s a Friday which means Adam is working despite Josh being here for a visit. He took the rest of the weekend off, so at least he has that. The trouble is, the longer this goes on, the harder it’s becoming for me to hide it. After today, I imagine it’s going to get even more difficult.
I press my lips to his, letting them rest there for several heartbeats, murmuring the words, “I love you” against them.
I don’t say anything more knowing he needs to sleep a little longer. He’ll come home around two a.m. and the last thing he needs is to be up this early with me. And even though I don’t want to admit it to myself, I don’t want him up because I don’t want him to see all the worry and fear I know is painted across my face.
I slip from the bed, making my movements as quiet and slow as possible, pulling on some leggings and a t-shirt before grabbing a hoodie that is flung over my desk chair. I look down at my backpack sitting next to my desk, grabbing it in another attempt to make it look like I’m going to class.
This lie is going too far.
I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me with a sense of guilt pooling heavy in my chest, the tears once again threatening. But all of that is short-lived when the door to the apartment opens slowly and in slinks Charlie with her shoes in her hand and her blonde locks in a disheveled mess.
“Oh my god, Charlie!” I whisper-shout. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask the question like I don’t know exactly what she’s doing. The mock shock in my voice startles her and she nearly jumps in the air, dropping her shoes by the door.
“Shut up, Mila! You’re going to wake Adam!” she whisper-shouts back.
“So, did you convince him to open a pizza place here?”
“Seriously, shut up,” she quips back, shaking her head. “It isn’t like that. It was a hookup, plain and simple.”
“That’s probably for the better,” I say, shrugging. “He does live on the other side of the world.” I try to keep it casual, hoping she isn’t getting attached to him. It’s going to suck when he leaves and honestly Charlie has never been one to jump headfirst into a relationship anyway. She’s always been a no strings attached kind of girl.
As much as she says she wants to find a guy and be in a relationship, she won’t do it. She won’t ever get close enough to someone. I’m the only one she’s let in and at first, I don’t think she intended to let that happen, it just did and now she’s stuck with me. She’s admitted to me that she thought I’d disappear after I found out about everything she had been through, but if anything, it made me want to stay.
“Exactly,” she replies, but I can see it in her eyes, a small glimmer of hope that shines when she just wants to feel normal. I’m not sure either of us even know what normal feels like anymore.
“He can be your random hook up when he visits. That’s easy, right?”
“Yep, that’s how I’m looking at it too. We can have fun and enjoy each other’s company while we’re together, but when he leaves, no one gets hurt,” she says, like she’s plotted this whole thing out in her head. I just wonder if she’s shared any of this with Josh.
“I gotta get going,” I tell her, walking toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. She follows me in, sitting down on the toilet. “Make sure you pee. You don’t want a UTI,” I now say, and she laughs.
“Yeah, no one likes to talk about that part of meaningless sex or sex in general. It’s not hot, pissing razor blades.”
Now we’re both laughing, our honesty about everything has been a big part of our friendship and here I am keeping far too much from her. It’s gotten so far out of my control that I have no idea where to even begin, so I do what I’ve done for the last several months, I act like it’s not happening.
I finish brushing my teeth and head out the door, taking a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm my shaking hands as I push the button on the elevator.
I just need this to be over.
I pull into the small parking lot for the therapist’s office and my head is already swirling with far too many thoughts and questions. My first being will she know she was recommended to me by Caleb? Well, it was actually Ruby who recommended her, but she’s Caleb’s therapist. Will she ask me about him? Will he tell her about me?
I look at the time on the
dash of my car, I have two minutes and it looks like I will be using them to psych myself up for going inside. I have no idea how this works or what is supposed to happen. It all feels so weird and fucked up, and as much as I need this, I still have no idea if I’m going to be able to bring myself to admit the truth.
I watch the clock turn over and with only one minute left, I drag my ass from the car and up to the door. The place is nearly silent when I walk in. There’s no one behind the small reception desk, but I can hear someone moving around behind a partially closed door, that I assume leads to the therapist’s office.
Is it even called an office? What the fuck is it called? A therapy room? A conference room? A place where you break down and cry? Because I feel like that’s exactly what’s about to happen.
My emotions are all over the place with my heart slamming against my ribs, my hands shaking and my brain a cluster of questions that feel like they’re clouding everything. I’m not even sure I’m capable of speaking at this point.
A woman emerges from behind the door and she looks up to see me standing in the tiny waiting area. It’s nothing like I expected, but for some reason I had this vision of it looking like the counseling center on campus; a place with lots of rooms and a revolving door of people, but this is far from it. It’s small, almost cozy with a quiet stillness that makes it feel more like someone’s house than a therapist’s office.
“You must be Mila Collins,” she says, smiling brightly at me. Her voice is somewhat soft, yet welcoming and I find myself comforted by the sound and her appearance.
She’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with a cardigan over the top, making it feel far less like a doctor’s office. I’m not sure what I expected her to be like, but I guess I assumed she would be stuffy with an air of importance to her, but she’s not at all like that.
“Would you like to come in?” she now asks, holding the door to her office open. She smiles, her eyes crinkling up in the corners showing her age. She has to be roughly the same age as my mother and again, I’m comforted by the knowledge that she’s seen a lot since going into practice as a therapist. “I’m Liz or Dr. Watkins or Dr. Liz or whatever you want to call me, but most of my patients are most comfortable with Liz,” she says and while I want to say something, I don’t.
