Physis (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Would you do it again?”

  She started and her gaze cut to me. “What?”

  I tried to keep my voice calm and level. “If the opportunity arose, would you do it again?”

  “I didn’t intend to do it the first time.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Beau’s hot, but you know that. He’s as sweet as they come, but you know that too. He’s madly in love with one person, and that’s not me.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “What I want is for you to say you don’t want Beau for yourself.”

  She frowned, the motion dipping her brow and creasing her eyes. “Of course I don’t. He’s yours; mind, body, and soul. I’d never try to get involved in that.”

  I waited for her to say more. To reassure me until all my fears about them were wiped away.

  She sighed and looked into the distance. “He’s not the one I want.”

  “What’s happening with you on that front anyway?” I asked, partly hoping she’d tell me she had a fantastic partner now whom she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone else. My mind offered up a piece of helpful information. The fire still burned, and I figured I’d have to have words with Beau about not kissing anyone just because they had an Australian accent. “What happened with that photographer you were with?”

  “Jamie? She was a bust. No, she was a bitch.”

  “What happened to her being so special?”

  Angel sighed. “It went out the window when she got pissed at me for running back to the States because of you.”

  “What? Why?” Dad had filled me in a little on the fact that Angel had arrived unannounced to help in the search, but he hadn’t really elaborated too much on that time. I think it was too dark for him to dwell on, especially when he had happier things to look forward to in the future. Now that I knew about Beau’s loss of hope, I wanted to know more about what everyone had gone through, but I didn’t want to know either. It would only add to the guilt and anger churning inside me. I focused on what Angel was saying instead.

  “She was booked in as the photographer for my campaign with Jenny Lane Workout Wear, but I had to pull the pin at the last second. Apparently she has some power within because I was dumped unceremoniously after that.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Angel shrugged as she dragged her fingers through the ends of her blonde hair. “I’m not cut out to model full-time anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  She just shrugged. “Takes me away from home too much. I worry Mum might drink herself to death while I’m away.”

  “Still, you lost your job because of me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly your fault. Besides, I’m positive Jamie was just jealous of my draw to you. She’d rescheduled models before, but apparently it was too hard to do it for me.” Angel stared into the distance for a moment before shaking her head. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Now I’m studying counselling.”

  “Oh, wow.” It was a far cry from anything she’d ever done and not something I’d ever thought she would do. I was smart enough to put two and two together for the reason behind the shift.

  “It was Beau who suggested it actually,” she said, almost too flippantly. “After I told him about Mum, and when I—” She cut off and dropped her gaze. It seemed there was a debate raging within her over what to say next—or maybe she was trying to figure out how much she could tell me. “When I was crying like a goober over you. He said it might help me deal with my own issues by learning the tools to help others.”

  The fact that I’d caused her tears caught in my throat and twisted its way down to my stomach. I’d known it on some level, but the fact that she’d cried with Beau over me made me want to hold her tighter and apologise again and again, even as it made the jealousy twist my gut again that she’d confided in him of all people. “You were crying over me?”

  She caught me frowning and lifted her hand to touch her finger to my chin.

  “C’mon, that can’t come as a surprise. I’ve been miserable without my daily digest with my girl. I haven’t been able to bitch about people I’ve run into at the shops. Haven’t been able to tell you about the hot new guy I’ve been crushing on. Haven’t been able to call you up to let you know about all the nasty, foul-arsed messages Mum’s been leaving me whenever she’s drinking.” Her breath hitched and a tear slid down her cheek. “So all the time.”

  I burst into tears. My chest heaved as sobs rocked through me at the thought. “I don’t want to hurt you, Angel,” I whispered through my tears.

  My lip quivered in response as my eyes started to burn. I moved to wrap my arms around her waist as my tears began to fall. She sobbed and wrapped her arms around me too. For a good ten minutes, we just held each other and cried. It was like nothing we’d ever shared before. We’d cried individually over boys being stupid, girlfriends being bitches, bad grades, and embarrassing gaffes. We’d never cried together.

  Even after kissing-gate, when she’d pulled away from our one and only true make-out session and we hadn’t spoken for a week, we’d come back together with very few tears. It had been a childish reunion and almost laughable compared to the outpouring of emotions that spilt from us as we clung tightly together.

  When our tears dried a little, Angel drew away with a chuckle. “I promised myself I’d give you a fun day so you wouldn’t banish me again. Looks like I’ve failed.”

  “No, my angel. I think I needed this. I needed to be us, and us never left shit unspoken. We say it all, whether we want to hear it or not.”

  Her laughter grew. “You should consider moving in with Beau and me,” she said. “The house is a huge four-bedroom one. Even if you didn’t want to sleep in Beau’s bed, there’d be loads of room for you and you’d have your own space.”

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that.”

  “Why not? It’d be fun. Beau could even make us s’mores.” She waggled her brow.

  “Because I’m not interested in playing house with anyone just because it might ‘be fun,’” I snapped as I yanked away from her. Her teasing tone and clear innuendo, more than her actual words, had sent my hackles up instantly.

  “I’m sorry for suggesting it, okay. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  She reached for my shoulder and I pulled away. I should’ve known it was going to be a disaster. She still expected me to be the person she’d known for so many years. Expected me to just accept casual flirting without reacting badly. “Yeah, well, last time I lived away from Mum and Dad didn’t exactly end fantastically. Excuse me for not wanting a repeat of that.”

  “It was only a suggestion, Pheebs. There’s no need to get testy.”

  “I can’t believe you’d be so fucking thoughtless.” I turned away from her.

  Expecting her to reach for me again, I braced.

  Instead, she quietly stood and took a deep breath. “I’ve explained that I can’t be your private punching bag. If you would prefer that I leave, please let me know. Otherwise, can we please try to be civil?”

  My jaw dropped as I spun to stare at her. They weren’t her words. They were words she’d learned in her course. Or that a counsellor or psychiatrist had given her. Perhaps Beau had passed them along after his sessions.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to stop.”

  She sat beside me again. “Maybe we just need to spread the serious conversations out a little thinner. Why don’t we watch a movie?”

  I shrugged.

  “That new car one you were talking about before Christmas has been out on DVD for a while. Parker told me all about getting a copy. Maybe we can watch that, if you’re not sick of it already?”

  The words to tell her why I couldn’t watch that caught in my throat and came as a sob. It’d been the same reaction I’d had when I’d seen the case after Dad bou
ght it for Parker. I curled into a ball as all the pieces disintegrated at the memory.

  “I brought a new DVD for us to watch.” Xavier threw the case onto the floor near where I was curled up into a ball. “Remember when we went to the movies together to see it?”

  The breezy sound in his voice, like it always was when he came to see me—at least until he turned—was almost as terrifying now as the hatred in the low growl Bee used.

  His fingers came into my hair, gripping near my crown and yanking my head back. “You remember, don’t you, Phoebe?”

  Even though he was forcing me to look at him, I lifted my eyes further to stare at the ceiling. “Yes.”

  “It was a good day, wasn’t it?”

  Any good memories I associated with our dates had long been swept into the past.

  “It. Was. A. Good. Day.” He spoke through his teeth as he tugged on my hair. “Wasn’t it?”

  Without believing the word, I whispered, “Yes.”

  “Good. I brought you flowers too.” He pointed to the sink where the bright colours of a bouquet of gerbera daisies clashed with the dull grey of the walls and dirty white porcelain sink. “Do you want to eat first or watch the movie?”

  “I want to go home.” I knew my words would fall on deaf ears, but I lived in hope that maybe this time he’d listen. He’d understand and let me free.

  His sigh dragged through his nose and lips all at once, exaggerated and prolonged. The symbol that he’d lost his patience with me and was about to snap.

  “Let’s watch the movie.” The words rushed from me to avoid punishment. I wasn’t in the mood to eat, and if I’d suggested that first and then not eaten, I’d only earn more of his ire.

  Angel sat as close as she could to me without touching. “Pheebs, will you please talk to me?”

  I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

  “Let me in. I want to help.”

  “You won’t understand, and I don’t want this darkness to—”

  “Bullshit,” she murmured. “You know the shit fight I’ve had most of my life. You know the scars that run deep to my core. You understood them even though you’ve got great parents and not ones who punished any perceived imperfection.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Be afraid to share with me because you can’t talk about what happened; that I can understand. Be terrified of what you went through. All of that I get. But don’t make my ‘pure soul’ or any of that bullshit the reason you don’t share your load when I’m offering to help. I know enough about the darkness that I can empathise and help you.”

  With one look in her eyes, it was clear how serious she was. I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. It was my fear holding my tongue. She was my best friend—the one who’d known me the longest outside of my family—and I worried she’d judge my actions. In the back of my head, doubt still lingered telling me that all of the shit that happened to me was my fault. If I hadn’t done this, or if I had done that, things would’ve been different.

  “Please don’t hate me when I’m finished,” I murmured, before launching into my story before she could reassure me she wouldn’t.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Beau texted me that we were heading out for the day. At first, the idea terrified me, but with the upcoming track time in a few weeks, it was something I had to do.

  “Mornin’, darlin’,” he said as he kissed my forehead. Then he nodded to Angel. “Sweetness.”

  She grinned at him.

  His gaze found mine again. “Are ya ready to go?”

  I nodded and glanced at Angel to see if she was as well.

  “Oh, no, this is something you two need to do alone,” she said, confirming she knew what the surprise was. “I’ll meet you back here later if you want, though?”

  I grabbed her hand. “Please.”

  She threw out a quick farewell to both of us before getting into her car.

  “Let’s go,” Beau said as she reversed out of the driveway.

  “Where?” I asked as I trotted behind him to the car, my curiosity stronger than my fear for the time being. He wasn’t going to put me into a situation I couldn’t control, I was certain of it.

  “D’ya trust me?”

  “Of course I do.” He’d earned it over and over—if only for his patience when I had a bad day.

  “Then trust me.”

  “You don’t make it easy when you won’t tell me where we’re going.”

  “Just remember, ya don’t have to do anythin’ ya don’t wanna, ’kay?”

  His words—no doubt intended to calm me—inspired a deeper fear and I almost ran back into the house. Instead, I gritted my teeth and nodded.

  We headed further down the Gold Coast for a while until heading off the highway and into the side streets. The roads were busy, the footpaths full of people. I wanted to ask him if he knew what the hell he was doing, but I’d promised to trust him.

  We pulled up in front of a tattoo parlour. Despite the busy streets surrounding it, the shop itself was deserted.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, thinking of only one possible reason. My scar. Did he hate it so much? Despite the fact that I’d talked about hating the scar on my chest, I hadn’t considered options for removing or covering it. The thought of walking inside the doors made my palms sweat and my breath speed.

  “I got ya an appointment.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Beau held his hand up.

  “Ya don’t have to do anythin’ ya don’t wanna do, remember? If ya want, it can be an appointment simply to discuss what can be done—whether it can be covered at all. But the artist has all the time ya need. I thought it might help ya if you knew your options.”

  “I guess it’s not going to hurt to look.”

  He gave me one of his slow, steady smiles. The one that stretched across his lips until his dimples showed as genuine joy lit him from within. It still amazed me how instantly his smile brought one to my face.

  “Nah, it ain’t gonna hurt at all. Least not ’til the needle comes out,” he joked as he led me inside.

  For the next ten minutes, the artist gave us some space and I flipped through the different pages of images to see if anything jumped out at me. Nothing did.

  “What do you think I should get?” I asked Beau as I failed to find anything.

  “Whatever ya want.”

  “Do you really think I should do this?”

  “It’s up to you, darlin’.”

  I moved over to him and caressed his face with my hands so I could lead his gaze to meet mine. “Tell me the honest truth, would you be happier if it was covered up?”

  He chewed on his lip as he met my eye. “I don’t much like his name there, but if ya wanted to leave it, I’d never force you to cover it up.”

  “I think that’s the right answer,” I said before touching my lips to his and turning back to the inspiration folders.

  Even after another ten minutes, I hadn’t had any success. I thought about calling the tattoo artist out and asking them to just go nuts and do whatever the fuck they wanted. Nearly anything would be better than what was there, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet. I was sure I’d be disappointed eventually if I didn’t find the right thing.

  “Maybe I should just replace it with your name. It’s better than the alternative,” I mumbled as I flicked through yet another book of pretty, but uninspiring, photos and sketches.

  “No!” Beau snapped the word at me.

  I spun at the sharp tone and instant reaction. “What? Why not?”

  “I adore ya and I wanna be with ya for as long as you’ll let me. But I ain’t Xavier.”

  His harsh tone was enough to close my throat and speed my heart. I took a step back, checking my hip on the counter.

  Instantly, he saw the effect of his harsh tone and tried to reel in his temper. He closed the distance between us, lifting his hand slowly. When I didn’t flinch away, he rested his hand on my hair and rested his forehead against mine.
“I don’t wanna brand my name on ya as some claim.”

  Even though my words hadn’t been serious, I was ready to defend them. It was a different situation, surely he could see that? “But it’s not a brand if it was my suggestion.”

  “You’ll regret it,” he said. “And then you’ll hate me for not insistin’.”

  “If I want your name tattooed over my heart, I’ll get your name tattooed over my heart.”

  He chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “And it’ll be my own stupid fault if I regret it later on.”

  “That may be, but it’s still my job to talk you out of it. ’Sides, I trust my name’s tattooed on the inside anyway, where it matters.” The faith he showed in my love for him, despite all the reasons he should think I didn’t care, warmed me.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Always.”

  “What about that?” he said, staring at something on the wall over my shoulder.

  Letting go of my hold, I spun to see if I could figure out which one he meant. It jumped out at me instantly. At least I assumed it was the one he was talking about, and if not, I’d found the one I wanted anyway.

  A phoenix.

  Only it wasn’t the typical solid outline of the bird with flames. Rather, it was almost abstract. A series of bold, solid black lines with pretty watercolour-style ink surrounding them. It was a stunning contrast. Bold but blended. Strong but feminine. The symbolism of the phoenix wasn’t lost on me either.

  I was certain I could even get the artist to line the strongest of the lines up with my scars for a near-perfect cover job. Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought of being able to look at my chest again, to see a thing of beauty, of strength, and not the faint, scarred outline of his name.

  “You don’t like it?” he asked when my breath caught.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s perfect. I just—I haven’t been able to imagine a day when I’d ever be happy to wear something that shows my collarbones and chest again. But with that . . . I think I could.”