by I. A. Dice
He wouldn’t dare question my motives after what I said, even if he still had doubts—I was certain he did.
“I tried talking to her, but she’s not letting me in.”
There are two groups of trauma survivors: those who want to talk and find it therapeutic, and those who keep in all in, mostly out of fear.
Nadia belonged to the second group. I did too. I refused to talk about Adam’s death for months, and not just because I was downright scared to relive it, but also to protect the people around me. If I told my mother I wished I was the one to die, she would turn grey with worry. She didn’t need to know. It was easier to hide behind a mask.
Nadia was the same. She protected Nick, too, by keeping secrets.
“I know my brother. I can screen-write that conversation for you. I know what he would say, and I know what impact my words would have on him.”
Just like misery, secrets like company—lies. Lies get out of control sooner rather than later.
“I wanted to give her time and space, but it’s been four weeks!” Nick whined, and he took his phone out of the jacket pocket. “If she won’t tell me, maybe he will.”
“You’re going to call Adrian?” I rested my elbows on the desk. “Don’t. You think she’ll appreciate you spying on her? You’ve got to trust her, Nick. She will tell you eventually.”
I wanted to know what happened just as much as he did, but going behind Nadia’s back was a stupid idea. Satisfying curiosity wasn’t worth losing her trust.
“I need to know.” He rubbed his face, inhaling deeply, then looked at me, the torment on his face like a bucket of water over my head.
Sometimes I forgot just how much he cared about Nadia. He would give his right arm if it meant she would never feel sad again.
“I can’t believe she’s back in therapy,” he said, sounding defeated. “I can’t believe it’s happening all over again. You’ve no idea what the months after our father died were like. She was a wreck, Thomas. She was a shadow, a teary, vulnerable mess. She built a wall and hid behind it from everyone.” He shook his head. “Nothing, not even Dad’s death hurt me as much as watching my sister transition from a happy, innocent teenager to a tormented, struggling woman. I can’t do it again.” He met my gaze, shaking his head some more. “I can’t watch her go through it again and do nothing. It’ll fucking kill me.”
“She’s not a lost cause. She’s getting help, and she’s getting better. Can’t you see that?”
“Better?” he scoffed. “I thought she was just upset, but then she got stuck in her own mind at the housewarming party, and I realised just how bad things are. She’s a much better actress now. I can’t fucking read her anymore.” He tapped on the screen. “That’s why I need to know what happened.”
He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for Adrian to pick up. The in-call volume on his phone was at the loudest setting, and I heard the ringback tone.
A battle raged in my head. Stay or leave? Find out now or wait for Nadia to tell me the story?
Argh fuck.
I rose to my feet. There was no way I would risk the little trust she put in me so far.
Thoughtfulness sucks ass.
“Hey, man, it’s Ty.” I heard and stopped in my tracks halfway to the door, just a foot away from the chair Nick occupied. “I guess you’re after Adrian, huh?”
“Hey, yeah,” Nick muttered. “Is he there?”
“Nah, he ain’t got his phone privileges yet. Another week before you can talk to him.”
“Phone privileges? Where the hell is he?”
A moment of silence filled the air, broken by the rapid thudding of my heart. I felt like a five-year-old about to disobey his parents. I wanted to leave. Whatever was to come out of Ty’s mouth next wasn’t meant for my ears, but my feet wouldn’t budge. I even stopped to hear better.
“Nadia didn’t tell you, huh? Damn that girl. She’s reckless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What happened there? What did Adrian do?”
Nick turned around in his chair, aiming a puzzled expression at me as if asking whether I made any sense of it.
I sure didn’t.
“If she chose not to tell you, then I won’t either, man. But I can tell you this: Adrian is in rehab, and you can try him next weekend. Is Nadia coming back to New York after the wedding?”
Questions multiplied in my head and on Nick’s face. His lips parted, and I almost heard his brain work hard to connect the dots, but the picture was a fucking abstraction.
“Not that I know,” Nick said, confusion in his tone. “Come on, Ty. Tell me what I’m dealing with. Why did they break up?”
Ty sighed, and for a moment he must have debated whether to let Nick in on the secret or not.
“Nadia must have a reason to keep it to herself. I just fucking hope it’s not because she plans to come back. The best thing you can do for her is to keep her in London. I’ll do my best to make sure Adrian doesn’t follow her. God fucking knows they’re both self-destructive.”
He cut the call and left us both even more confused. Instead of answers we got more questions. Nick watched the dark screen of his cell with two wrinkles on his forehead. I regained the feeling in my feet when my phone chimed once. A text message waited on the screen.
I’m here.
“Nadia’s here.” I grabbed my jacket from the chair. “I’m not coming back to the office once I drop her off.”
Nick stopped chasing his thoughts for a moment. His eyes snapped to my face, but he was only partly present.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. And Thomas… don’t tell her I spoke to Ty.”
I nodded once, gritting my teeth. Was withholding the truth classed as lying? I sure hoped not.
Fucking idiot! You should have left the room when you had a chance.
Nadia was buckled up in the passenger seat when I took the wheel. She looked tired, but a small smile touched her eyes when, ignoring the possible onlookers, I pecked her lips.
“Hey,” I muttered, a rush of inordinate protectiveness radiating all over my body. “How was your day?”
Despite getting no answers or even hints from Ty, unease settled over me when he mentioned rehab. Was it alcohol? Drugs? Either way, addicts have a way of ruining a person’s life. Their addiction drags everyone they care about down, sucking out life and happiness, leaving a distressed shell behind.
“Busy. You haven’t checked the car for damage,” she pointed out when we drove out onto the main road.
I rested my hand on her thigh. “As long as you’re not damaged, I don’t care about the state of the car.”
“Aren’t you sweet. You should work harder on the arrogant asshole persona I heard so much about, because I kind of feel cheated. You were supposed to be a self-absorbed douchebag, Thomas, and you’re everything but that. What happened?”
We stopped at the traffic lights, and I turned to her, taking her hand in mine. “You happened, baby doll.”
A small smile was all she gave me, changing the subject to fill me in on the band meeting, not that I cared. A Mercedes was parked outside Nadia’s apartment, and Scorpio stood by the hood with Jane. He motioned to me when I got out to help Nadia with the bags.
“Hey, sorry I’m late; Mel’s outdone herself again. I have been running around the city like a headless chicken,” Nadia told Jane.
Jane pulled out a bottle of wine from behind her back. “I figured you might need a pick-me-up.”
“I have a free house and a fridge full of beer.” Scorpio elbowed my side. “Care to join me?”
The tone of his voice coupled with the unnatural eyebrow movement hinted he was on a mission to find out what the deal was with me and Naida. We hadn’t had time to catch up since the housewarming party. I spent most of my free time with Nadia, and Scorpio must have added two and two together.
Clever boy.
“Yeah, sure.” I followed the girls upstairs to leave the bags full of lollipops and tea on the br
eakfast bar.
Nadia took out two wine glasses and left Jane to fill them, while she saw me out. The last thing I expected was a kiss. Nadia wasn’t the one to steal kisses from me any chance she got. She was cautious and refused to act as if we were anything other than sex buddies.
“See you later?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Jane wasn’t eavesdropping.
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Call me when you’re done, baby.”
CHAPTER 19
NADIA
Action, reaction
Every girl dreams about a best friend straight from the movies. The one with whom you can share your deepest secrets, and she’ll always have your back. The one you can laugh and cry with.
When you tell her you killed your husband, she grabs a shovel and pulls an alibi out of thin air. When she’s getting married, it’s a given that you’re the maid of honour. You’ll end up being the favourite auntie to her kids no matter how many sisters she has.
Yeah, every girl wants a best friend straight from the movies—so did I, except I ended up pulling the short straw and got Amelia. The horror movie version of a bestie. The one who was the sweetest person and the impersonation of a perfect friend right until her status changed from girlfriend to fiancée. The engagement ring must have had some freak magical powers and changed my beloved friend into a crazy bitch.
I couldn’t wait for the wedding to be over and done with.
She arrived at ten a.m. on Saturday morning, and turned my living room into a make-up salon to try out different options for the big day, which, by the way, was still four weeks away.
That would be fine if she meant her own make-up. But no, Mel meant the bridesmaids’ make-up. Two make-up artists followed her in, and no more than twenty minutes later, four bridesmaids arrived. For some reason, Amelia thought I wouldn’t mind having seven women in my apartment. I didn't even own enough cups to make them coffee and had to jog to the nearby cafe for take-away lattes.
“Do you complicate things on purpose or just by accident?” I asked three hours and seven make-up options later.
“What suits one won’t necessarily suit the other. Jane has blue eyes, so the blues suit her, but not Alex because she has dark hair.”
It made little sense to me, but Mel’s exasperation kept my mouth shut. The make-up artists worked hard to create something delicate but visible that would satisfy the future bride and suit four girls.
They couldn’t know what they signed up for when they agreed to work for Mel. She was never an easy-going person, and the upcoming wedding made her much, much worse.
“I’ll make your life a little easier,” I said to Alice, one of the make-up artists, when Amelia left the room for a moment. “Forget greens, blues and pinks. Stick to grey, black and maybe champagne, but nothing too extravagant.”
She nodded and returned to creating another masterpiece. Two hours and five more make-up options later we had a winner—classic smoky eye and coral lipstick.
Well, I could have done that.
It was past three in the afternoon before everyone except Mel left. The focused, annoyed looked on her face told me she stayed to make my afternoon miserable.
“Whatever it is you’re not happy about…”
“How much longer do you plan on sleeping with Thomas?” she cut in, crossing her arms. “I can’t keep lying to Nick, and he doesn’t shut up about you two.”
“Weren’t you the one who encouraged me to sleep with him again?” I handed her a cup of steaming coffee.
She should have been thankful that I loved her or else she would suffer from second-degree burns.
“I thought you would both be done by now! It doesn’t look like just sex from where I’m standing. He gave you his car for the day! Do you have any idea how much Nick whined about that? I’m sick and tired of listening to how much Thomas is going to regret it if he hurts you. God, you’re all he talks about. If he’s not angry about you spending time with Thomas, he’s whining that you don’t trust him because you still haven’t told us why you dumped Adrian.” She took a sip of the coffee and hissed when she burned her tongue.
I kind of cheered inside.
Karma’s a bitch.
“Tell him,” she spat out. “If you can’t tell him the truth, then make something up. I don’t care.”
Expecting Mel to be pleased about my deal with Thomas or the fact I kept secrets was wishful thinking, but never in a million years would I have expected to hear mockery in her voice. It stung. Hell, it hurt. We stood by each other since day one in primary school, but it looked like a lot had changed in the two years of my absence.
“Do go on. I see you’ve got something to add. You think you know why I broke up with Adrian? Or why I didn’t tell you?”
She raised her chin, looking me in the eyes. “I think Adrian met someone else, cheated on you or just got bored. I think you’re blowing it out of proportion because you’re ashamed. Do you know why I think that? Because you slept with Thomas hours after you met him.”
My mouth fell open. I wondered if she really thought so, or if she tried to hurt me because she was jealous that Nick focused on me instead of her. More than once in the past we got into stupid fights when Nick and I spent too much time together.
Amelia was territorial. Half the time I understood her, but this time she should have shut up. Instead, I was the one left speechless; dumbstruck even. My body shuddered with anger, and all the reasons why she was wrong danced on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed hard to stay calm. This was neither the time nor place to scream my mind.
It wasn’t really what she thought for sure. She was just overwhelmed with the wedding plans, and Nick unloading on her tipped the scales. I couldn’t even blame her for pointing out I slept with Thomas on the first night we met, though she was never the judgmental type.
I took a packet of cigarettes from the table. “You know where the door is.”
Not waiting for more venom to spew from her mouth, I walked out to the balcony, angry tears in the corners of my eyes.
The door to my apartment slammed shut less than a minute later. It had been a while since we argued, but it was the first time I felt like I didn’t belong here anymore. Maybe I was too damaged; too different. Maybe I changed too much to fit in with my family.
Maybe I could only truly fit in with the man who turned my life upside down in the best and worst way.
Two cigarettes did nothing to calm me down. Flashbacks started the second I glanced at the painting in the living room, and soon enough I swallowed two pills of diazepam. I laid on the couch, staring into the distance. And once again, instead of remembering the bad times, I recalled the good ones. I recalled every time Adrian made me feel like I could conquer the world; every time he told me there was nothing more important in his life than me; every kiss, and every whispered I love you.
It wasn’t fair. He hurt me beyond forgiveness, but my mind refused to let the truth sink in.
“You haven’t locked the door again,” Thomas said hours later.
The sun already set, and it was getting dark outside. I looked away from the screen of my laptop to find him entering the living room, a bottle of wine in hand. A familiar warmth wrapped itself around me, chasing away the demons. If he knew what effect he had on me, he would never come near me again. It was crazy the way his presence soothed my tormented mind and healed the scars and bruises. Temporarily—yes, but even those short moments were steps taken in the right direction.
“I never do.” I watched him hang his jacket on the back of the chair.
Last week he lectured me about safety. “London’s not a safe place, baby doll. Lock the door,” he said. It went in one ear and out the other. You would think after the abuse I suffered; I would be obsessed with locking the doors and triple checking that they’re locked.
After the first few fights with Adrian came a phase of locking myself in the bathroom or locking him out of the dorm room, but then I learnt that Adri
an’s wrath grew proportionally to the time he had to wait for me to come out.
“Wine?” I eyed the bottle he held.
“I heard you and Mel had a fight.” He frowned when he noticed the box of Diazepam on the coffee table next to a cup of peppermint tea. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, a familiar warmth spreading in my chest. He was so … unfair acting thoughtful and sweet.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. He crossed the room, took a seat, and pulled me onto his lap. A forceful, but calm kiss followed, soothing my senses. I loved the way he held me flush against him, weaving one hand into my hair while devouring my mouth as if it was his favourite part of the day.
“Don’t lie. Mel was in tears when she came back home. I was helping Nick set up the new barbeque, and Mel said she had been a right bitch to you…” He shook his head. “She’s really upset.”
And so was he. We met a few weeks ago, but it was enough for me to learn how to read his mind. He was worried. The way he held me; the look on his face; the tone of his voice—everything betrayed him.
“Kiss me again.” I ghosted my fingers over his cheekbones.
No hesitation. No second thoughts.
Action, reaction.
His tongue teased my bottom lip before he deepened the kiss, tilting my head to the side, and letting out all the air from his lungs. There was nowhere else I would rather be.
I pecked his nose and hid my face in the crook of his neck, “I know she’s under a lot of pressure, and Nick isn’t helping. He’s freaking out about me and you, and about me and Adrian, and Mel had enough of being the third wheel while her fiancée only worries and talks about me lately… But she said some things she can’t take back.”
Thomas stroked my back in a repetitive motion, pressing his lips to my temple. “Why didn’t you call me? I told you I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
I kissed his jaw. “Because you’re not my personal antidote, Thomas. I’m doing well without the pills because you’re around, but …”
