Twisted Hearts: The Complete Duet

by Max Henry

  Belle occupies the bathroom now John has finished, leaving me to clear the breakfast dishes. She insisted on helping, but I shooed her away with a smack on the arse, reminding her this is how I repay the favour John has done me.

  “Cerise moves in tomorrow.” Speak of the devil.

  I still my hands in the soapy water. “That soon, huh?” I’d hoped to have a new place sorted and be gone before the bitch showed her face.

  He slaps me with a scathing glare. “Didn’t mention anything earlier, Z, because I didn’t want you trying to talk me out of it.”

  “You know it’s a terrible idea then?”

  “Lay off.” He picks up a dishcloth and retrieves a plate from the drying rack.

  “Does Belle know?”

  “She will.”

  “When?”

  “In good time.” He sets the dry plate down, turning to face me front-on. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

  Arsehole. “Just want to know if I’m going to have a moody teenager to deal with at night is all.”

  John appears to soften as he picks up another plate. “I’m going to tell her over dinner.”

  “And if she doesn’t take it well? Doesn’t give her a lot of time to come to terms with it if Cerise turns up tomorrow.”

  He stares at me a moment. Bastard knows I’m right.

  “Tell her now.” I take my frustration out on the damn eggs baked onto the pan. “Give her all day to work through it.”

  “You’re a fucking know-it-all, you realise that?”

  I smile, aware he’s teasing from the tone of his voice. “Try to be. I’ll step out and give you both some privacy.”

  “No,” he urges, seemingly humble. “Stay.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “She might want somebody to talk to about it if she gets mad with me.”

  I give John a simple nod. Things have been tense between us the past week since that blow-up about Cerise. We’ve spoken, but only when we have to. Knowing my best friend since childhood could become so distant over a damn woman? Yeah, that hurt. But what stung more was the doubt it seeded in my mind about what I’m doing with Belle.

  If this is how dark he can get about his ex-wife, what the hell will it do to us if he finds out I’ve started sharing a bed with his daughter?

  The air immediately thickens as Belle enters the room, oblivious to what’s about to go down. John sets the towel down and looks across with worry in his gaze. I catch his eye and nod. He’s doing the right thing, giving her warning. Maybe to him Cerise moving in is a return to how things were, but for Belle, it’s a big deal.

  The mother who walked out and abandoned her wants back into the family home, and it’s not because of Belle.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” John steps up to where Belle reaches for the juice. “Got a minute?”

  She looks around and finds me, worry in her eyes before she returns her focus to John. “Sure.”

  I finish up with the pan and pull the plug.

  “I’ve got some news I want to share.” John gestures for her to sit at the table.

  Belle glances my way while I dry my hands off, as though to ask what’s going on.

  “I’ll be out the back if you need me.” I hold her gaze as I say it, letting her know I mean her—if she need me.

  “Thanks, Z.” John nods as I set the towel down and head for the back door.

  Belle’s scent fills my nose as I pass her, my palm buzzing with the need to reach out and pull her to me, to kiss her. It’s a kind of suicide, holding your love inside. A pain that knows no equal.

  My gut tightens as I step outside, the feeling that I’m abandoning her strong. My dove is about to find out she has to share her cage with a crow. A dark beast of a bird that does nothing but bring bad luck and thrive on death and decay.

  I take a seat on the back step, raising my chin to the sky to look at the dark clouds that gather in the west. Maybe we’ll get a storm. Hopefully—it would help to lift Belle’s mood after she’s done talking to John.

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pull my phone out to scroll through to Jodie’s number. We might have left off on bad terms, but her attitude when I’ve seen her to deal with the house sale has been more relaxed than when she lost her shit at the café. Perhaps it’s not the best idea, but when you literally grow up in your best friend’s pocket with fuck-all other friends around, nobody understands the situation the same as your ex-wife.

  Z: Did you know John and Cerise are back together?

  I send the message and tune my ears for anything coming from inside. Yet it’s as quiet as a fucking library in there, no indication of which way the discussion goes. My phone pings with a reply.

  J: What the fuck for?

  I chuckle at her blunt response. At least I’m not the only one who sees the bad in this.

  Z: She got in touch a few months back, so he says. She moves in tomorrow.

  Her reply is immediate; the dots dancing across my screen.

  J: You’re still there?

  Z: Yes.

  Nothing. The absence of a reply, or even any indication she’s typing, speaks volumes. I set the phone down and take a stroll to the fence line, absently pulling out weeds as I go. Where do I see this relationship with Belle going? I started things, crossed that line selfishly without really thinking it through. I want her—always, but the logistics of that are something that can’t be handled without copious amounts of heartache: for John, for her, and for me.

  My phone pings from the step. I glance up at the dining room windows as I return, but I can’t see anyone; they must be in the living room. The echo of a door sounds as I retake my position, followed by the rumble of John’s work truck as it starts.

  Thunder beats a drum on the horizon as I open Jodie’s reply.

  J: How did Belle take the news?

  Such a simple question, but one I know would have taken her a hell of a lot to ask. She’s never liked Belle all that much, at least since Cerise left. You’d think a woman’s natural instinct to nurture and protect would kick in when she watched a child be abandoned by a parent, but not for Jodie. Strangely it was my instinct that drew me to the dejected kid playing on her own in silence, and all that happened for Jodie was she grew increasingly wary of Belle, withdrawing further from her the older she got.

  My gut knots as the door behind me opens: it was Jodie who took that picture of me and Belle at the barbecue. Shit. How could I forget that?

  “You can come back in if you want.” Belle’s voice is flat, scarily unmoved.

  I turn as I stand, and pocket my phone. “What did he say?”

  “You know she never once sent me a birthday card? Not even a phone call.” Her eyes are narrow and critical, but the pain is still clear.

  “I know.”

  “And now she wants to come back in here and take Dad like she’s entitled to him.”

  I reach out and pull Belle to me with a sigh. She crashes into my chest, resistant at first, but her body soon settles against mine. “Sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes, dove.”

  “Didn’t he do that the first time?” she scoffs. “You’d think he’d remember.”

  You would. John took Cerise leaving hard, leaning a little too heavily on the bottle as his way to numb the pain of betrayal. You’d especially think he’d remember how cold and tactless it was that the bitch brought her new man around to get her shit when she left.

  “I wish I could do something,” I admit. “Watching your dad make the same mistake twice feels wrong, but he already shut me out when I let him know how I felt about it.”

  “He doesn’t want to face the truth, does he?”

  Her question strikes a bit too close to home. “I guess not. Sometimes it’s easier to live in the lie than acknowledge how painful the truth is.”

  And as with any lie, there’s only so long you can keep it up before the web begins to unravel.

  “Come inside,” Belle says as she pulls away. “I’m in the mood for a movie a
nd comfort food.” She graces me with a sad smile as I follow her lead, hand in hers. “May as well make the most of the fact Dad’s headed out to organise shit for the bitch.”

  She turns away, missing the worry that no doubt settles across my features. In a way, having Cerise move back in is needed; it forces us to face what this is that we’ve started. But in the same vein, I can’t help but feel unease at what else it means.

  Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but what if distance for Belle and me simply clears the fog of lust and shows this arrangement for what it really is?

  Wrong.

  Controversial.

  And ultimately, condemned?

  If that’s the future for us, then I’ll go to bed tonight wishing for the miracle of a groundhog day. Because as much as Belle’s pain at her mother’s return makes my chest ache, I don’t want to ever let this day go.

  I’d gladly live every day on a loop if one more step forward would mean an end.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Belle

  An existential crisis—that’s what I’ve been told this is called. That point where you don’t know what to do, which road to take… which one will lead to a better future. Cerise moved in on Monday, and for the entire week I’ve wished for some miracle that would make her realise the whole thing were a mistake and leave. Because if she doesn’t, I just might.

  I never wanted her back. Not when she left the first time, not now. Some things never change, and my lack of love for my mother is one of those.

  “You realise this is your fault, don’t you?”

  Zeus messaged to say he’s on his way home from work, and Dad has not long left for his night shift. Cerise is almost through her first bottle of wine, her words beginning to slur as she jabs her mostly empty glass at me.

  “I drank before you came along, sure,” she rambles. “But I had control of it. After you were born, though…” She huffs a bitter laugh. “Christ. You wouldn’t shut up for the first few weeks. Cried, and cried, and cried.” She waves her arms around as she talks, moaning the words. “You were a handful from the get go.”

  As the days go by, it seems more and more likely that her return coincides with a need to have someone to look after her. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s taking Dad for a ride, taking advantage of his good nature. I wouldn’t put it past the woman, that’s for sure. I might not have known much about my mother since she left when I was so young, but I learnt enough from the things Dad told me to know that Cerise doesn’t do anything unless it’s to her benefit.

  She’s a user. In every aspect of the word.

  I glance over the top of my phone as she leans her head back to take a sip of the wine. Cerise doesn’t look like what I imagine a mother should. Pressure makes her veins stand out against her pallid skin, the words she speaks to me gritted out through a stiff jaw. There’s no softness, no comfort. Nothing that I longed for as a kid.

  I clearly didn’t miss out on anything, not having her around.

  “What are you going to do with yourself now school is over?” she asks, her hand shaky as she pours another glass.

  “I’ve contacted a few shops about placement as an apprentice.”

  Dad thinks I should jump straight into what I want to be doing and not waste time saving cash at a regular job for school leavers, like the supermarket, or a takeaway joint. He has a point, in that I should focus on my chosen career rather than waste time in a job that doesn’t help me learn or grow in my preferred field. So I started to contact the artists I’ve followed for years on social media, asking for placement.

  A bold step, yeah, but nobody got anywhere by sitting on their hands. The worst they can do is say no—which most have—but a few have either not responded or asked for a sample design to gauge my skill level.

  It’s a start.

  “Apprentice for what?”

  I rise from my seat in the living room and head through to the kitchen to get her something to eat, rather than let her consume so much alcohol on an empty stomach.

  “Tattooing.”

  I’m not dumb—feeding her slows her absorption, which in turn makes my life easier.

  She laughs as I pull a bag of bread rolls from the pantry and retrieve the butter and ham. “Do you have any plans to get a real job?”

  Why the fuck Dad thought it was our responsibility to look after her, get her on the straight and narrow, I have no idea. If he wanted a project, he could have adopted a stray animal. At least an animal would have been grateful to have the free roof over its head while it mooched on what we gave it.

  “Being a tattoo artist is a real job.” I slam the ham in her unbuttered bun, my level of care suddenly diminished.

  “Don’t kid yourself, Belle.” She eyes the roll dismissively as I set it down on the table beside her. “You’ll never make good money doing that.”

  “You shouldn’t offer advice on things you don’t understand.” I swipe my phone off the sofa and drop onto the cushions.

  I catch her lift the food in my periphery as I flick through my timeline. She inspects the bread roll, lifting the ham as though I would have hidden poison beneath it, and then takes a bite.

  My thumb hovers over the screen while I glance her way. “If I wanted to get rid of you, I’d think of something more practical than giving myself a dead body to dispose of.”

  Cerise sneers before taking another bite and then setting the food aside while she chews.

  “You’re giving me that look,” she says, wiping the crumbs from her lips. “That one that says you think you’re better than me.”

  Because I am.

  She lifts her glass and takes a large gulp. “I’m your mother, Belle.” Exactly. I wish she’d act like it. “You’re supposed to respect me.”

  “Give me something worth respecting and we’ll go from there, huh?”

  She sets her glass down with a clang and rises abruptly from her seat. I stiffen, ready to flee the room, when the click of the front door freezes her in her tracks.

  “Afternoon, everyone.”

  Zeus. I’ve never been more thankful for his untimely interruptions in my life.

  This week has been hard on both of us, having to hide the connection we so clearly acknowledged on this very sofa. He avoids eye contact, and more often than not leaves the room when I enter. It’s painful, especially since my self-doubt has begun to creep in telling me that perhaps he’s realised his mistake.

  “How was your day?” Cerise asks sweetly, taking a step back to retrieve her glass. “You look tired.”

  Tension crackles between the two of them as he stares her down without answering. My skin heats when his intense gaze slides to me, his eyes softening a fraction.

  “Everything okay, here?”

  “Fine,” I mumble. “I’m in my room if anyone wants me.” I hold his gaze as I stand, willing him to read between the lines.

  Cerise knocks back another gulp of her drink and then picks her smokes off the side table as I leave the room. I cast a glance back at her, my gut tight when I catch the way she blatantly looks Zeus over with appreciation while his back is turned. They hate each other—that much is clear—but she still seems to like having him around.

  Makes me want to throw caution to the wind and claim him as mine for all to see.

  I retreat to my room and shut the door before I cross to my music dock and set the mood with some sombre rock. My pencils are still spread over my small desk from earlier in the day, the piece I was working on calling to me.

  The tip of my red intensifies the shading in the centre of the flower, the work almost complete by the time I hear him enter.

  “Hey.”

  I turn on my seat and fail to find a smile for him. “Hey.”

  “She’s taken her wine outside to have a smoke.” Zeus tips his head toward the door as he closes it softly behind him. “We’ve got five minutes, more or less.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  He frowns. “What is?”

&nb
sp; “Having to hide like this.”

  I track the way his body moves as he crosses my room, the roll of his huge shoulders as he takes a seat on the side of my bed. “I know it’s hard.”

  “But?”

  “I’m hoping I’ll have a place of my own sorted soon.”

  I don’t say anything; the conversation seems so absurd. I feel as though if I talk it would wake me from the dream.

  “Come here.” Zeus pats the bed beside him. “I miss you, dove.”

  “Even though,” I say as I move to sit beside him, “we live under the same roof.”

  He wraps an arm around my waist before I can drop to the bed, and manoeuvres me so that I straddle his thick thighs. “That’s what makes it so hard.” He pulls me forward, shunting me hard against his hips. The proximity is unbelievably erotic, despite the fact we’re both fully clothed. “I want to sneak over here every night, but Cerise is a light sleeper. I hear her get up sometimes, early in the morning.”

  “I know.” I hear her too.

  She drinks during the day, and more often than not, falls asleep too. Which unfortunately for us means she doesn’t always sleep that well at night. I’m only new to her habits, but already I hate them. She’s a waste of oxygen.

  “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” I admit. “I couldn’t tell.”

  “No,” he coos, burying his nose against my throat. “No way.”

  I lean my head back, the heat of his lips against my flesh making my nipples pebble.

  “I did everything I wanted to with you, dove.”

  “Everything?” I tease, smiling as he pulls back to look in my eyes.

  He smirks, the tilt of his lips sending butterflies thrumming through my middle. “Everything I wanted to do that night,” he clarifies with a raised eyebrow. Zeus hooks his fingers in the neck of my shirt, pulling the fabric away from my body so he can peek below. “Everything else will come in good time.”

  “I need you.” The words escape before I have time to doubt saying them.

  He answers by sealing his lips over mine, stealing my breath away as he sets both hands on my butt and grinds me against his thickening erection. I feel nothing like the teenager I am in that moment. I feel respected and revered. Equal with the man I crave.