by Sandy Smith
“I bet” Nick sniggered under his breath as he leaned over to get a closer look at the picture.
“Who are the others? Is that Darren that you used to play footy with?”
“Yeah.” I explained who each member of the footy team was.
“What about these other guys in Britney outfits? Are they from your team as well? These two guys look a bit older.” I hadn’t offered anything on Ant, Giles or Owen.
I hesitated, not wanting to lie to Tim, but not feeling like I had too many options. “That’s Ant, Owen and Giles.”
“Ant and Ky worked together at Coles” Mum interrupted.
“Yeah” I agreed, “Ant and I used to work together at Coles before I knew you. Giles and Owen own the bar where he works now.”
Tim looked at me funny before asking me a bit more about Giles and Owen and what they did. I told him about Platform but left out The Subway Station and what little I knew of their other businesses. I wasn’t really sure why he was so fascinated by Giles and Owen. When he looked at the photo, it almost seemed like he recognized them, but then he didn’t even know their names.
I was way too tipsy to be bothered working it out, so instead I dragged Nick upstairs, where we spent way too long getting each other clean in the shower before making each other very, very dirty.
Chapter Sixteen
After Nick couldn’t get back from Canberra in time to come, the staff barefoot bowls party still turned out better than I expected. I almost bailed, but Ian had convinced me to go, and I was glad I had. Even Grayson kept his bullshit to a minimum, which was a surprise, given how much he had to drink. Once the games wrapped up, a few of the guys agreed to head to a bar in the city to keep the night going, but I used needing a ride from Ian as an excuse to bail, getting him to drop me at Mum’s since it was close by. I had messaged Nick earlier in the day and asked him to pick me up on the way home from the airport. Even though it was a long way out of his way, he hadn’t hesitated.
Tim tried to make a chocolate lava cake after Mum raved about one she tried on their trip to Port Douglas, but apparently, he needed a bit more practice. When I got there, he was cursing the oven. The house had belonged to Tim’s mum, who passed away before I met him. After nearly twenty years, he still blamed the oven for each of his disasters. I tried to explain the different settings again but gave up because, frankly, it was a waste of time.
I grabbed another beer from the fridge and passed one to Tim, who shook his head. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked.
I frowned. It wasn’t like him to care if I’d had a few drinks. “Not that much. I’m not driving, but I’m fine—why?” I had probably had a bit too many to be exactly fine, but I wasn’t sure what Tim’s problem was.
“Because I wanted to talk to you while your mum’s out. What time is Nick picking you up?”
“I’m not sure—he wasn’t sure which flight he would get on.”
He nodded and sat at the table. He fidgeted, then got up and grabbed himself the beer. After a few sips, he just held it and played with the label. I didn’t like how serious Tim was being. This wasn’t like him. “What’s going on, Tim? You’re freaking me out a little.”
He frowned. “How long? I mean… was it before I met your mum? How long… how long did you work as a prostitute?”
The air burst out of my lungs, and my vision blurred. I stumbled out of my seat. The alcohol probably wasn’t helping me work out what the hell just happened. I looked around the kitchen, then back at Tim, who was still sitting calmly at the table. “I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My mind was racing, but my lungs wouldn’t work. I couldn’t suck in air. Why is there no air in the room?
“Sit down, Ky.”
“No, I… I can’t… There must have been some misunderstanding… I have no idea what… who…” I was still scrambling to get my mind to work when a noise in the hallway made us both turn. Nick walked in, looking a little tired, but smiled at me.
Nick.
He was the only person I had ever told. No one else knew.
It felt like a blow to my chest. I tried to take deep breaths, but I still couldn’t.
What the fuck is wrong with the air in this room?
“Why would… I don’t... understand.”
Confused, Nick glanced between Tim and me.
How could he have done this?
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Nick asked, stepping towards me.
“Seriously?” Suddenly, I was angry. So fucking angry. “Are you fucking kidding me? How could you?”
“I still have no idea what I’ve done?”
“You’re the only person who knew. You’re the only person I have ever told! What the fuck was the point? This is my fucking family. You had no right. No fucking right!”
Tim stood up and tried to talk, but I couldn’t even hear him over the rushing sound inside my head.
Nick stepped towards me. “Ky, baby, I have no idea…”
“Don’t. Don’t!” I spat at him.
“Ky, just calm down and listen,” Tim tried again.
Nick reached for me, and I pulled away, stumbling into the counter. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me again. We’re done.”
Nick gasped and stepped backwards. “Ky, love…”
“No!” I roared. Nick flinched, but I didn’t give a shit. How did he not understand what he had done? How could he stand there? I’d trusted him. I’d trusted him with everything. With all of me.
Tim tried to talk to me again, but I shook my head. I couldn’t even hear him. Nick stepped forward, but the glare I gave him had him stepping back.
“Maybe I should go,” Nick said quietly. He hesitated, then added, “Ky, I’ll be at my place when you want to talk. I’m not going anywhere. Come and find me when you’re ready.”
He turned and walked off, and all of my energy and resolve went with him. I slumped into a chair.
Tim knelt next to me. There was a whirring noise inside my head, but I tried to focus on his words. “Ky, I know you’re upset, but you need to listen to me. Can you do that?”
Part of me wanted to run. If I wasn’t here, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation. I had never run from things before. But this? This I wasn’t sure I could do.
“Ky, Nick didn’t tell me.”
“He is the only one who knew. The only one.”
“That’s not true is it, though? And that’s not even the point. How I found out is irrelevant. I wasn’t trying to attack you, Ky. I just… I needed to know that you’re okay. I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you. I didn’t want—fuck, I wasn’t trying to turn this into something that hurt you even more. I don’t know. Maybe I should have left it alone.”
My anger had all gone, washed away along with my strength. I didn’t know how long I sat and stared at the table before I started. “I worked for about eight or nine months when things got desperate. I stopped when Mum said we were moving in with you. This isn’t Mum’s fault. Please don’t blame her.” My voice sounded dead. Even to my own ears.
Tim put his hands on mine. “I’m not blaming Rhiannon. And I’m not blaming you either. I’m sorry I upset you. I…” He sighed. “You were wrong that Nick was the only one who knew. Lots of people knew—he was just the only one you told. You knew, Antony knew, your pimp knew, all your customers knew. That’s a lot of people, but you chose to blame the person who loves you. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
The look on Nick’s face when he said he was leaving was still crystal clear in my mind. He wasn’t angry. He looked so hurt. And maybe a little lost.
Oh, God, what have I done?
“But how?” I needed to know
“You told me.” My eyes darted up to his. “I was Antony’s case worker. I knew when he left the Atkins family he was working the streets, but short of him being arrested, it was hard to keep track of him. When I asked you about the photo, I knew he hadn’t worked at Coles, I knew the only job he had ev
er had, but it took me a few days to work out how the two of you had been making ends meet, all the signs you were keeping secrets that I just missed until I looked at them with the benefit of hindsight. Then a bit of digging to find that paedophiles’ conviction a few years later for pimping out underage kids, doing the math to work out the years you had been living in his building. It took me a long time to piece it together. Too fucking long.”
“But you only saw the photo a few days ago.”
“It took me sixteen years too long. I’m so sorry, Ky.”
I couldn’t stop the tears any more than I could when I told Nick. But this time, I wasn’t giving in to them. When Tim tried to put his arm around me, I shrugged it off. “Don’t, please. I… I can’t keep crying over this. It’s done, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”
Tim dropped his arm but stayed sitting at the table with me, not speaking, just holding my hands.
“All these years, Ant always had an excuse why he wouldn’t come to dinner on a holiday. He always had some amazing offer or something came up. If you recognized him, I’m guessing he would have recognized you too.”
“He definitely would’ve recognised me, but I’m not sure when he ever saw me.”
I shrugged. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.
“Please don’t tell Mum. I know I’m asking a lot, but I’m not trying to protect myself. This would kill her. She would run back through every conversation, every dollar I used to buy stuff. She would torture herself with thoughts of every guy who fucked me.”
Tim made a strangled sound, but I ignored it.
I felt cold. Everything hurt. I needed to warm up so I could stop shivering. I needed Nick.
Without saying another word, I stood and walked up to my old bedroom. Kicking off my jeans, I curl up under the doona and continued to shiver. I couldn’t get warm. I lay there, seeing Nick’s face as I yelled at him that we were done. I never had the relief of sleep but drifted in and out of awareness. The ache that surrounded my chest kept me pinned down.
The next thing I was aware of was a knock on the bedroom door. Tim pushed the door open. He frowned when he saw me in bed. “Please tell me you haven’t been in bed all day.”
“Huh?” I looked over at the clock. 4:30 PM. I tried to sit up, but I still felt like I had the flu. Everything hurt. My head spun, and my stomach ached. I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping my head would stop spinning long enough to have a shower.
“Were you supposed to work today?”
I shook my head tentatively, then stopped and thought about it and shook my head again. “Nah, not today.”
“Rhi will be home soon. Can I suggest a shower? Have you spoken to Nick yet?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. My head hurt too much to shake it again.
“Shower, then game plan. Now.”
After a warm shower, I dressed in old track pants and a t-shirt and made my bed before heading downstairs gingerly.
There was Panadol and a glass of water on the table. Once I took two, Tim refilled the glass and dropped a Berocca in, placing it in front of me. “So, what’s the game plan?”
I sighed. “I don’t think there is one. I fucked everything up.”
He shook his head as he started to grab eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, and mushrooms out of the fridge. Next, he grabbed the hashbrowns out of the freezer. “I think this calls for dinfast.”
I smiled weakly. Dinfast was how I referred to it when we had breakfast for dinner, my favourite weekend dinner when I was a teenager.
“I think you might be underestimating how much Nick cares about you. Just talk to him. If nothing else, you owe him an apology,” was the last thing Tim had time to say before the front door opened, and Mum came in.
“Hey, angel.” She smiled and kissed me on the head. She then headed over to Tim and kissed him. They whispered sweetly to each other before she turned back to me. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”
Tim jumped in. “He overindulged at the barefoot bowls thing and is still recovering.”
Mum smirked at me. “Well, if it’s self-inflicted, then you deserve every bit of how crap you feel right now.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Tim walked up behind me and wrapped one arm around my chest.
Through dinner, Mum and Tim carried the conversation. Tim was handing me a mug of tea with a kiss on the top of my head when my phone beeped.
Hi, it’s Eric. Just checking how Nicholas is. He must be on death’s door, given he hasn’t taken a sick day since I met him. If you need me to bring him soup, let me know. I won’t actually bring it. If he has called in sick, it must be the plague. But I will send an expendable employee with soup made by someone who knows what goes in soup.
I sent back a quick message telling Eric I would let him know if I need anything. When Mum asked if I was staying the night, I shook my head. “No, I have something I need to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
I honestly had no idea how Nick was going to respond, but regardless of the outcome, he needed to hear the apology. When I arrived at his building, I took a few minutes to brace myself. I looked at the key he gave me a couple of weeks ago, wondering if it was still okay to use it or if I should buzz. I used the key, and when I opened the door, the apartment was dark. Maybe he really was sick. I walked through the foyer and into the living area. I was about to call out when I saw his outline sitting curled up in one of the single seats.
He startled and looked up at me, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked even worse than I did. He had on pyjama pants and a T-shirt, and his hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it. The dark circles around his eyes were evident, despite the near dark. Even the blue of his eyes seems dulled.
I did this to him.
“Are you okay, baby?” I was confused when I heard him speak. He sounded worried about me.
“I…” I wasn’t sure what to say first. “Are you sick?”
Now he looked confused.
“Eric texted me. He said you called in sick.”
He shook his head. “I said I would be here when you were ready to talk.”
“I’m so sorry,” I croaked. “I know that’s not enough. I can’t even imagine how much you hate me right now. I’m so sorry.”
Nick stood, took two steps towards me, and wrapped his arms around me, and I sobbed into his neck. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Nick hushed me and held me until I settled, and my breathing slowed to unattractive snotty sniffles. “Are you ready to talk about it?”
I opened my mouth and blurted it all out, barely pausing for a breath. “I’m sorry. Tim knew I worked as a prostitute, and I panicked. I’ve spent sixteen years terrified of him finding out, and it felt even worse than I thought it would, and he just wanted to make sure I was okay. He wasn’t even angry. And I still managed to fuck everything up. I’m so, so sorry, Nick. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I should've known better, but I just… it was all… I felt like I had been hit by a tsunami and I panicked and I blamed you and you hadn’t done anything wrong and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Does your mum know?” he asked gently as he eased back to stand in front of me.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I mean, maybe Tim will tell her. I hope not. I asked him not to. I think he knows it would hurt her too much.”
I looked at Nick, and he looked at me intently before speaking again. “Did you mean it when you said we’re done?”
“No! God, no. Nick, I’m so sorry.”
He sighed with what looked like relief. “Okay, then the rest we can work out.”
I let out a long breath that I didn’t realise I had been holding. I lifted my hand to reach out for him, but hesitated. He reached for my hand and held it, squeezing gently.
He led me to the lounge, and we sat. “I get why you reacted like that. I do. Tim or your Mum finding out has been eating at you for sixteen years. But, Ky, assumi
ng I told them wasn’t fair. I would never do that to you. I don’t think I have ever given you a reason not to trust me.”
“I know.” I hiccupped and tried to even out my breathing. “I know.”
“Okay, so tell me what happened.”
So I did. I replayed the conversation for him, and when I got up to him coming in the door, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t put words together, and every time I tried, they got stuck in my throat. He asked me some questions, and I tried to answer him honestly.
Eventually, we were both all talked out. We showered together and curled up on the lounge. I wasn’t stupid enough to think an apology erased the hurt I caused him, but I thought he still wanted to work on this, and at the moment, that’s all I needed.
I headed to work the next day, and Nick and I texted each other like usual, but it was a bit more formal, like we were both making an effort to keep everything ordinary. I hated it but knew I might not be able to fix what I broke overnight.
The following night, I spent the evening at Nick’s place. I cooked him dinner, and we watched old episodes of Supernatural. When we got into bed together, neither of us seemed to be in the mood for anything other than sleep. We curled up next to each other, and I reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand. He pulled the hand around so he could kiss it and then placed it on his chest.
Nick's phone woke us early the next morning. I assumed he had left an alarm on from the previous week, so I nudged him, but he fumbled for it and answered in a low voice.
I could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was obvious almost immediately that something was wrong. “Nicholas speaking. What? But he… when? I am getting dressed as we speak mother... Bloody hell... Give me two seconds to process what you are telling me. Yes, I know. No, I don’t think… yes, fine. I know, Mum! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you... Yes, I will. Okay, goodbye.”
He hung up the phone and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I have to go. My father died.”
