Twisted Hearts: The Complete Duet

by Max Henry

  I shut the door anyway.

  No matter how many times I tell her that I’m doing just fine on my own, she comes around and sticks her fucking nose in anyway. If it weren’t for the fact she’s engaged with a kid now, I’d give her shit about missing me too much. But I know that’s not it.

  She was the only one who witnessed the utter breakdown that sent me back inside. She was the only one who saw me hit rock bottom, determined to dig lower until I found myself in hell. I’m not proud of my moment of weakness, and fuck it all, I’m even more embarrassed that it left her fearing for my state of mental health.

  “I’m fine,” I growl as the front door opens behind me.

  “Of course. That’s why you shut the door in my face.” The metal rings on her purse rattle as she dumps it on the kitchen counter.

  I keep my back to her, watching the clouds thicken in the sky. Hopefully it’ll be a storm. I miss the storms. Miss the way they make me feel, the things they remind me of.

  The people.

  Or person.

  “Been shopping this week?” The seal of the fridge breaks, followed by her dissatisfied sigh. “What the hell are you living on, Zeus? You keep shrinking and there’ll be nothing left of you.”

  Maybe that’s the point? Staying big, staying muscular, only attracted unwanted attention from women. There’s only one person I wanted that kind of appreciation from, and when she was twelve thousand kilometres away it didn’t make much sense to stay on at the gym.

  “I eat enough to keep me alive.”

  She huffs, her shoes tapping across my wooden floor as she approaches. “I’m heading to the shops now, so if you need anything, make me a list.”

  “A couple of cans of degreaser.”

  “Anything for the kitchen,” she deadpans as she stops shoulder to shoulder with me. “What are you looking at?”

  “The clouds.”

  Her silence says it all.

  “Have you seen her?” My voice is small, pathetic. It’s everything I am when it comes to Belle.

  “She only got in this morning; I’ll see her in good time.” Jodie steps between the window and me, concern etched in the pinch of her brow. “How did you know she was back?”

  “John told me.”

  “That sabotaging son of a—” she mutters under her breath. “Why would he do that?”

  “To warn me to stay the fuck away, apparently.” I drop my gaze to hers and lift an eyebrow.

  She shrugs, walking over to the armchair and dropping onto the seat. “You wouldn’t be silly enough to do that though, would you?”

  “Do what?” I turn and face her, hands in my pockets.

  “Try to see her.” Jodie’s eyes silently plead with me to give up the plan she’s clearly convinced I have.

  There isn’t one. No scenario that enters my mind ends well. Not when she’s shacked up with some other guy. So why bother?

  “It’s not worth my time, is it?” I narrow my gaze on her. “Not when she has a fucking boyfriend, fiancé, whatever the fuck he is.” If I so much as stepped foot in the same room as a guy who’d had his hands on Belle…. Maybe I should have asked what exactly the judge would dish out if I ended up back in the courtroom?

  “When are you going to move on, Z?” She rests an arm casually on the side of the chair, relaxing her position. “How many women have you been with in the last three years?”

  “Jodie,” I warn with a frown.

  “I’m serious,” she says. “Okay, so you spent the first three or four months sulking after she left. But that leaves over two years where you could have been making the most of the fact you aren’t that old yet, and you’re still quite the catch.”

  “This is fucking weird coming from you.” I cross my arms, hoping like fuck she’ll drop the topic.

  “It’s necessary.” She leans forward to glare at me from under her lashes. “How many?”

  “Two.”

  “Jesus,” she whispers to herself, looking away. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Look. I know you won’t come out with us, but just consider it, okay? Maybe I can leave Eric at home with bubs one night and be your wingwoman?”

  “Fuck me,” I groan. “How about you hand me a shovel and help me dig my grave.” She frowns, clearly confused. “I’d rather stay at home spanking one out than go to the bar with my ex-wife to find a fuck for the night.”

  Jodie’s lips flatten in a thin line as she snorts in an effort to suppress her laugh. “I guess when you put it like that.”

  The two of us chuckle at the visual. It feels good to laugh. Unwelcome, but good.

  “At least I got to you to loosen up,” she says with a smile. “I worry about you, Z. You’re pretty dark a lot of the time now.”

  My smile fades, and I turn back to the window. “Happens when the sunshine gets ripped from your life.”

  I catch Jodie’s sigh, and the shuffle of her moving off the seat. “Look. I’m not saying it’s a great idea, but maybe you should consider meeting up with Belle?”

  I spin around, my brow pinched hard as I try to work out why the fuck she’d even suggest that. “How in the hell would that help?”

  “Maybe you could settle the things that were left unsaid?” She shrugs. “Get closure.”

  “Nothing was left unsaid,” I snap. “That’s the problem.”

  I left things with Belle exactly as I intended—with her knowing that I love her, and that my feelings would never change.

  I said exactly what I wanted to, and I choose to remember it that way.

  What I don’t want is to hear what she has to say now. Not when all the bullshit she’d have to say about how great her new guy is, how happy she is, would tear away the last shred of who I am, the last reason I have to keep living, keep hoping.

  Sometimes it’s best to lie to ourselves.

  Sometimes it’s the only way to keep alive.

  FIVE

  Belle

  A sick sense of déjà vu washes over me as I tap my fingers on my knees and search the crowd for Kate. I couldn’t deny her request to catch up over coffee. After all, if I’ve changed as much as I have over the past three years, then who’s to say that she’s stayed the same? We kept in touch via social media, but there’s a certain level of disconnect when you don’t physically speak to someone. It’s easy to slap a like on a post, or make a casual comment on a picture, when you can do it without having to touch on the sore subject of your past.

  I pull my phone out to check the time: twenty minutes later than she said she’d be. We decided to meet up on Kate’s rostered day off: Wednesday. I slept most of Monday after finally crashing somewhere in the early hours, and then spent yesterday unpacking my bags, sorting my laundry, and making sure all the equipment I brought back with me was undamaged. In a way I could go for a session with the gun in my hand. The concentration, the focus that inking somebody’s skin requires, has always been a great way to settle my nerves. A kind of zen. I unlock the screen and check my messages to make sure I haven’t missed anything from Kate. Nothing new.

  An old couple sit on the bench behind mine, chatting about what the grandkids got for Christmas. I stare down at the simple gold bracelet on my right wrist, unsure how I feel about Damien’s gift. He said he didn’t want to buy anything too big because I’d have to get it home with me—which is fair enough—but I also can’t shake the feeling that the plain band was an afterthought. I bought him a new GoPro after his last one got lost in transit on his way back from a festival in California. At least he should be putting it to good use this week.

  I open Facebook and scroll my newsfeed, killing time until Kate arrives. I swipe my thumb up in a smooth rhythm, scrolling past pictures, memes, and random status updates. Nothing catches my attention until a familiar face makes me slam my thumb down to stop the roll and move back up.

  No way. My pulse hammers as I stare at the screen. He’s unblocked me. Right there, in my suggested friends bar, is Zeus. Three year
s in the dark, and today he decides to let me in, even if only the tiniest bit.

  This can’t be coincidence; he must know I’m home.

  “Sorry I’m late. Parking is chaos.”

  I smack the button on the side and black my screen as Kate stops before me. “I bet.” I give her a broad smile as I slip my phone in my bag and stand.

  She pulls me in for a hug, crushing me in her embrace. It’s strange, but welcome all at the same time.

  “I missed you.”

  “Really?” I chuckle, disbelieving that she’d have time to miss me with her busy study schedule and the new guy she seems to post pictures of every damn day.

  “Of course.” Her honey blonde hair flicks over her shoulder as she twists her head left and then right. “Where do you want to go for a coffee? I think most of the places in here are packed.”

  “Wherever.” I pick up my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “We’ll just try them until we find one with a table, huh?”

  “Sure thing.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “So?”

  “So, what?” We begin to walk, our shoulders pressed together in order to navigate the crowds.

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  Oh. I press my fingertips into the strap of my purse and frown. “Not for a few weeks.”

  “Why not?” Her tone is light and playful. “You going to hide him away and keep him for yourself a bit longer?”

  I catch her eye as I answer. “He’s still in the States.”

  Kate pauses, a mother with a buggy splitting us up temporarily. “Why?”

  “He’s doing a last trek before he comes back.”

  I catch the bob of Kate’s throat as she swallows in my periphery. “You’re okay with that?”

  I shrug. I was, but after our phone call last night it’s left me questioning where I stand with Damien. He talked for all of nine minutes before the lingering silences forced us to cede that we had nothing left to say to each other and he ended the call.

  No sentiments. Just a “We’ll talk later, okay?” and then the signal to say he’d disconnected.

  “I guess that nomadic bug is hard to shake, huh?” Her laugh comes off as forced.

  “Yeah. It must be.” I link my arm through hers as we near the first café inside the mall. “Tell me all about your man.”

  “Are you sure you want me to start, because I could chew your ear off for hours about him.”

  I smile, certain that she can tell it’s equally as forced as her laugh was, and give her arm a squeeze. “I’m sure. I need the distraction.” Because if it’s not Damien on my mind, it’s another man that I can’t lock down my feelings for.

  Each as out of reach as the other.

  Kate recounts how she met her current guy in her first year training to be a nurse, chatting my ear off the whole time we order our drinks and find a table amidst the chaos. I narrowly avoid tripping over a stack of shopping bags as we pull out our seats, and squeeze myself in the narrow gap afforded by how close the café have their tables.

  “How does placement work after you’ve completed your training?” I ask, spinning our table number between my fingers.

  “They have a 75 percent success rate for local placements, so hopefully I won’t have to move too far away from here.”

  I smile as she answers, piquing her interest.

  “What?”

  “I never picked you as one to stay here in Longdale, is all.” When we were young, escaping our small town was all she’d talk about.

  “I didn’t think I would either, but while you were away things changed.”

  This time it’s my interest that’s piqued. “How?”

  Her gaze drops to the table and she fusses with the advertising card slipped between the salt and pepper shakers. “Mum got sick. She had some pretty serious treatment, and I’d rather stick around to help Dad take care of her.”

  “Sick how?” Why the fuck didn’t she message me?

  “She had a tumour. Out of the blue. Like, there’s no family history of cancer or anything.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry, babe.”

  Kate slices a hand through the air. “No. Don’t be. She’s as tough as old boots, and although it’s slowed her down a hell of a lot, it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  I reach across the table, humbled by the sheer realisation that we all had our personal battles to fight. “Well, I’m back now. So if I can help your parents at all, let me know.”

  “Thanks, babe. That means a lot.” She sighs, eyes distant for a moment before she comes around. “Anyway. Tell me all about Damien while he’s not here to get embarrassed. I can’t believe you literally walked on the plane and that was the start of it.”

  “It wasn’t really.”

  We’d talked the whole flight, finding comfort in a kindred spirit. He confessed that he had no real plans once he reached the US, intending on travelling around and seeing as much as he could. So when he found me at the San Francisco layover and showed me the tickets he’d just bought to join me on my final leg, it blew me away.

  We started out as friends, sharing a small two-bedroom place before the dynamics of our relationship became something more. Looking back, I wonder if given the time to breathe, if I had gone on to Colorado alone, whether I would have been so accepting of him? A part of me knows that to some extent we fell together out of necessity—allies in uncharted territory.

  “He’s great, he really is.” I recite my usual answer with my normal lack of enthusiasm.

  “But?” she asks, sensing my hesitation.

  “It’s nothing.” I pull my hand from hers as our coffees, and her cake, arrive. “I’m sure it’s just mixed emotions being home.”

  “Tell me anyway.” Kate gives the server a smile as the guy takes our number and leaves. “Hash it out, babe.”

  “It’s normal to wonder what he’s up to, right?” I empty a sugar sachet into my drink and dunk the spoon.

  “Of course.” She mirrors my movement. “You miss him.”

  “I don’t. I don’t miss him, I just want to know what he’s doing because I don’t trust him.”

  “Ooo.” She pulls her chin back, lips pursed. “Why do you feel like that? What did he do?”

  “That’s just it: nothing. He’s done nothing. Every decision we’ve made while together has been too easy. We never really had any good fights; we never got into it about anything. He was always so keen to keep me happy, and I kind of wonder why.”

  Kate sighs out her nose as she stirs her drink, shoulders dropping. “Without meeting him, it’s hard for me to say anything on the subject, babe. Give it time. Like you say, it’s probably just the adjustment to being home.” She shrugs. “Maybe he’s acting strange because he’s insecure too?”

  “About what?”

  “Well. Maybe he’s worried about what you’ll get up to all the way over here.”

  I snort at the idea, swirling my spoon around the mug. “Hardly. What has he got to worry about?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. It was just a thought. Not as though you’ve got any exes he has to be jealous of or anything.”

  She sips her coffee, and then slices her fork into her cake while the realisation hits me like a ton of bricks. Zeus. He could be envious of Zeus. Kate wouldn’t know that, because I never told her the extent of the relationship we had. But she’s figured out the problem between Damien and me without even realising it.

  “Belle?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve gone white as a ghost.” She frowns, cake poised halfway to her mouth. “Does Damien have something to worry about?”

  I stare at her, well aware I can’t bullshit my way out of this one. She might not know what exactly happened between Zeus and me, but she does know that the only other person I hooked up with was Scott, and he can’t really be classed as an ex anyway—not when it was a one-night stand.

  Shit.

  “Belle, baby. What exactly happened between you and that
guy your dad knows?”

  SIX

  Zeus

  “Hey. Big dog.” Mike slams his palm against the side of the digger’s cab. “What’s up?”

  I snap out of the daze I was in and realise that the gang are leaning on the ends of their shovels waiting for me to move another bucket of infill. “Shit. Sorry, bro.”

  The fact they still call me Big Dog is a joke. When I started with this crew, my physical size made me stand out like a sore thumb. These days I’m no bigger than the majority of the guys who watch me with interest from their spot out in the heat of the day.

  I swing the machinery into action, moving another two loads of grit for the guys to spread into the channels we laid new pipe through yesterday. Mike hangs on the side of the cab in the open doorway as I work, waiting until I’m not focused on the job at hand to push a little harder.

  “What’s going on, Zeus? You haven’t been yourself today, mate.”

  I slouch back in the vinyl seat and sigh as I look over at the big guy. Mike’s pushing fifty: a huge Maori fella who commands respect from most of the guys on the gang. He’s been with the company the longest, so naturally most of the newer young guys look up to him for guidance while learning the ropes.

  We became fast friends after he petitioned for me to keep my job when I almost ended up back inside, always there to mentor me, and in most cases, guide me when I veer off course. I could never find the words to tell the guy how much I appreciate that, especially after losing John.

  “Got a bit on my mind,” I explain, hoping he’ll drop it.

  “Like what?”

  I focus on the guys shovelling. “Today is my sister’s birthday.”

  “True, bro.” He nods knowingly.

  The question was put to me at smoko not long after I started, why I’d been inside. I’m not ashamed, and so I shared the reason with the guys at the time. It’s no secret that the guy I beat to within an inch of his life took my sister’s.

  “How old?” Mike asks.

  “She would have been thirty-four today.”

  He makes a grunt of acknowledgement, and then drops off the side of the digger. “Finish this one, and then we’ll take a break, yeah?”