by J P Sayle
He stared at the gaunt face in the mirror.
What now?
Leaving hadn’t fixed things. Okay, he might have taken the coward’s way out when Nick had shut him out and demanded for him to leave. Insisting he didn’t want to talk about what a fucked-up situation they found themselves in. And in essence he’d had to agree at the time when his mind was full of stuff hard to comprehend. The discussion on Christmas day had been hard enough to swallow. He’d been processing that and his new feelings for Nick. Then wham. Another shocker, the fucking witch had cast some juju on him to make sure he showed no interest in Nick.
Who made this shit up? Seriously, they needed to take a back seat and leave him the fuck alone. He really didn’t know how much more he could deal with. The little voice nagging at the back of his mind told him he hadn’t dealt with anything and was hiding out. That made two of them then because the witch had also run away when he’d been distracted with Nick, not allowing him to ask any of the hundred or so questions he had for her.
He huffed, blowing his lips until they flapped together when the question repeated itself. “What now?”
“Fucked if I know.”
Brody jerked away from the sink, spinning around.
“Come on, Brody, talking to yourself in the bathroom mirror, when did that become a thing?”
Ellie’s lyrical sarcasm didn’t mask the concern he could clearly see written over his friend’s face.
“It’s time you faced whatever it is that has you running in circles chasing your own tail. This isn’t you, Brody. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never hidden from a problem. I get the feeling you’re hiding now.”
Ellie’s tiny finger pointed at him, his eyes drilling into Brody before they widened in horror when they caught sight of the mess he’d made reflected in the mirror.
Brody was distracted for a moment by Ellie’s lip curling up as he covered his nose. The stench of vomit finally penetrated past his misery. Brody shrugged in apology as he went to move past Ellie.
He felt a warm hand on his chest as Ellie pushed at him. Brody looked down, groaning at Ellie’s irate scowl.
“I don’t fucking think so. Get your tight arse back to the broom cupboard and grab whatever you need to clean up that smelly vomit.” Ellie pointed at the messy stall. “’Cause I’m telling you now, that ain’t in my job description.”
Brody sniggered when Ellie spun on his heel, sticking his button nose in the air and stomping back out the door. He followed his instructions. He covered his nose and mouth with one hand while he cleaned up the mess with the other.
He was finishing up when the door opened again, only this time to reveal the senior officer. He froze, a disconcerting grimace covering his face.
“Are you all right, Brody?”
The loaded question had Brody pause on his way to the door. The words came out before he could stop them.
“No, sir, I’m not. I’m tending my resignation.” The words hung in the air for a second much like a firework that was getting ready to explode and reveal itself. Only the words exposed Brody’s inner desire.
Not sure which of them was more shocked he’d made good on his threats to resign, Brody carried on talking, feeling a sense of relief at speaking what he knew was the truth. Tension seeped out of his body. “I’m done, sir. I don’t think I have the stomach for another case that will twist my gut and stab pictures into my brain, giving me nightmares. I fucking worry that one time I may not be able to let it go and it sends me over the edge into the abyss.” Brody inhaled, taking a moment to gather his chaotic thoughts. “Something recently changed for me, and though I can’t really explain what it is, I know me resigning has been on the cards for a while. I’m finished.”
The finality in his words had whatever his senior officer was going to say die on his lips. His mouth closed. His hard features relaxed when his gaze pinned Brody to the spot. Brody shifted uncomfortably under his searching look. His dark eyes showed understanding. Offering support, his large hand extended to Brody.
“I’ll respect your decision. I’ll work on getting you early retirement. You’ve earned it. You have nearly twenty years of service on the force. I’m positive we can sort something for you.”
Brody wasn’t sure what else they discussed because his panicked mind wondered what the fuck he’d just done.
Christina
“I’m telling you I can’t go back there. Don’t you understand those people hate me for what I did? I can feel it,” Christina shouted, stomping her trainer-clad foot on the patterned carpet. She strode to the large window overlooking the ocean, her eyes unseeing.
Two weeks she’d hidden out in her hotel room, scared that at any minute the door would break down and someone would charge in, demanding God knows what of her.
“Stop this infernal whining. It’s really starting to get on my last nerve,” Morgana ground out. She’d had enough of this nonsense. “Pull yourself together. Do you want to stay in this realm forever with no magic?” Morgana was pleased when she sensed Christina’s fighting spirit emerge. They had been going round in circles for the last two weeks, and she had tried everything to get Christina motivated, but so far, nothing had worked.
“No. No, I don’t. But, Morgana, I don’t have a clue how to fix this.”
Morgana materialised as she heard the genuine anguish in Christina’s voice as she prowled across the room. She wound her body around Christina’s legs, rubbing her silky fur against the soft fabric of her trousers. Their love/hate relationship was pushed to the side for the moment, and she offered comfort instead of harsh words.
Morgana found it difficult to deal with how lonely Christina looked standing by the window, staring out at the street with such longing.
“Why do I always make things so hard for myself? I only ever wanted to be loved.” A single tear escaped down her soft cream skin. Christina turned from the window and looked down at the ginger tabby cat sitting at her feet. The question hung between them, neither sure she wanted the answer.
Morgana knew Christina’s memories of her childhood were vague. Born in shadows, in a world that had not understood the gift the gods had bestowed upon her. A gift even Christina was not aware of or as yet learnt to wield. Her true powers were masked by the king to give her time to grow and understand her role in the world. Only, Max’s indiscretions had pissed off the fates and set Christina on a different path. One the king had been unable to interfere with.
Morgana’s whiskers twitched. Apprehension filled her at what Christina could be truly capable of if her powers were unmasked now, when her life was in such turmoil.
Morgana, along with the king, were the only ones who knew Christina’s true nature. Having sensed immediately there was something different about her, the king treated Morgana as a confidant, entrusting her with the truth of Christina’s true origins.
She wondered, as she often did, whether Christina would have followed a different path if the king hadn’t masked her powers. Would she have been less selfish and more fulfilled? Morgana believed Christina only created mischief because she was bored and had no purpose. When she’d guided Max, she seemed content with her lot. When that was taken from her, it seemed to untether her much as the king had done by allowing her free rein in both realms.
“Enough, Morgana! Focus on getting Christina back on track and working towards redeeming herself.”
The king’s angry growl as he blocked out Christina’s thoughts had her struggle not to hiss out loud at the sudden bellow.
“Okay, keep your hair on. You know you’re equally to blame for all of this. And don’t forget this is all pretence. You’ve already broken the bloody spell.”
Ignoring his loud harrumph as he withdrew from her mind, she muttered about ingrates.
Morgana pushed her will against Christina’s, encouraging her to take some action and stop looking for answers she wouldn’t find in this realm. Her body strained as Christina unknowingly fought to counter her will
. She pushed with all her might, using every ounce of magic energy to get Christina to stop hiding. When she felt Christina relent, Morgana collapsed against her calf, panting.
Christina’s soft hands lifted her, cuddling her into the red mohair jumper covering her ample chest. A brightly coloured fingernail lifted her tiny chin. “Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing.” Her sculpted brows rose. “But it’s okay; I get it. Enough sulking. I broke it, so I need to fix it. The only question is where do I start when I have no magic to lift the spell?”
A feline smirk appeared on Morgana’s face at her perplexing question.
“That’s easy. You focus on their soulmate connection. You may have hidden it, but you can’t break what the fates have chosen to bestow. You should know this. Or you would if you’d stopped acting like an ostrich, burying your head in the sand.”
Morgana’s amused tone had a flicker of a smile lift Christina’s lush lips.
“All right, I hear you. I’ve dug the sand out of my ears and eyes. Now, I need to come up with a plan. Are you willing to help me?” Christina’s voice warbled with nerves. Her fingers clung to Morgana, her eyes begging, knowing she couldn’t do this on her own.
The slight head bob was enough to unravel the knot in her stomach as she walked to the striped armchair by the side of the queen-sized bed.
“Now what?”
A devilish glint lit Morgana’s eyes before she spoke.
“Now we get them alone. Then we work on making them both angry because if you’d paid attention, you would have noticed every time that happens, neither can keep their hands off each other. Simple.”
The simplicity of the plan had Christina offer Morgana a genuine smile. She lowered her head, looking Morgana in the eye. “You know there’s going to be fireworks, right?” Morgana nodded eagerly at her humorous question.
“Yep. And I for one can’t wait to watch.”
Christina seconded that.
Nick
Nick laid down the wood plane, smoothing his hand over the edge of the centre island he’d been working on. Thanking his lucky stars his fucked-up attention hadn’t ruined yet another piece of expensive wood. He was grateful he’d ordered extra because who knew how many more pieces he’d wreck before the job was finished. He gave a big sigh.
He glanced around the nearly finished kitchen. The units were now complete, fitted with all the appliances, much to Greg’s excitement. The brown marble tops, though covered in dust, were a perfect complement to the two main walls housing the gorgeous elm wood bespoke cabinets. The kitchen offered a modern twist on a country kitchen. The mellow glow coming off the wood and from the soft grey light pouring through the bifolding patio doors at the other end of the room had his lips tilt. He knew he’d been right to argue for elm wood.
He looked back to the centre island he was working on. It was the last of it. Once that was completed, he’d have the table to make and just add a few finishing touches here and there to the designs carved into the wood. Each piece he created always had a little design added to it, kind of a signature to sign off his work.
The thing was, he hadn’t figured out what he wanted to use for Aaden, yet. Seeing as he was family, Nick wanted to do something special. The hours he’d spent trolling the Internet gave him knots in his shoulders but little else. Greg’s idea, on the other hand, about going to the Manx Museum to use something Celtic, yeah, that had offered inspiration. Now he just needed to make the time to go.
He’d been sticking to his plan to finish as soon as possible. It also gave him something to take his mind off the empty bedroom next to his. An empty room that Aaden reminded him constantly was his fault for telling Brody to take a long hike off a short pier. And okay, shock horror, Brody listened.
Nick scowled at the wood in front of him.
Did it mean Brody had to listen this time?
No, of course it didn’t.
He hadn’t listened any of the other times I’d told him where to get off. So why should this time be any different, I ask you!
Nick uncurled his fingers and focused back on the job at hand. Hadn’t he worked like a trogon to make sure he fell into bed exhausted so his mind wouldn’t remind him of his crappy life? A life he currently wanted no part of.
Yes, I had!
So why wasn’t his head playing ball now?
His dusty hands found their way into his tangled hair, yanking. The pain was not enough to stop his thoughts from travelling where he didn’t want them to go.
“Nick, you back there.”
Nick froze at Greg’s loud shout from the hall. His eyes automatically searched for an escape route when he heard several feet thud down the hall towards the kitchen. He cursed, seeing it was yet again pissing down outside. His shoulders sagged at the realisation his exit plan was a no-go as he looked at the thin ripped grey T-shirt, baggy joggers, and ratty trainers he wore.
Greg strode into the kitchen with purpose. Brad and Joe followed hot on his heels. He’d asked his boss Martin if he could leave early as it was a Friday, after offering to make the time up next week. His easy acquis was quickly followed by a text from Brad, Martin’s fiancé, offering his and Joe’s services to come and kick Nick’s grumpy backside. Greg chuckled at his own transparency; even tracing paper could hide more than he could.
He was at the end of his tether watching Nick suffer these last couple of weeks. It was torture. They’d all watched the weight drop off Nick while working himself into the ground. Nick shut them all out, to the point they were all struggling to get him to even speak to them.
Last night he’d had a long chat with Aaden and Max, and they’d come to the decision enough was enough. They’d let him wallow and stew far too long, and now it was time for action.
Max explained the king wanted him and Princess to help Christina. Even though Princess didn’t seem all that keen, she’d agreed. So they’d formulated a plan, and now it was time to set it in motion. He knew Aaden had been texting Brody, encouraging him to come back. Greg now knew Brody was booked on a return flight this evening, and they were going to use that to their advantage.
Oh yes, we are.
Greg rubbed his hands together in glee, his eyes latching on to his target. They just had to get Nick out of hiding to get their plan initiated.
He looked over his shoulder at his best friends, grinning. He whispered. “Let’s batter up. It’s time to knock some sense into our friend.”
The answering grins had him stroll nonchalantly into the kitchen, cornering Nick. He’d taken the added precaution of removing the key from the patio door, so Nick couldn’t escape out the back as he had done the previous week. Greg was not going to be fooled twice.
“Hey, babe. You still hard at it?” Greg waved his hand at the centre aisle. “You do know it’s Friday right, and that means it’s time to relax and have some fun.”
Greg watched Nick scowl before he hunched, turning away from them. He glanced at Brad and Joe, waving his hand for them to help.
Nick kept his eyes on the wood in front of him, not wanting to see Brad’s sad puppy eyes or Joe’s beseeching ones when he turned them down again. He knew where this was going. The same place it went with every visit. He pressed his lips together into a tight line, praying they would take the hint and leave him alone.
A warm hand on his shoulder caused him to deflate faster than a balloon. Brad’s cherry scent wafted around him just as his lean chest hugged his back. Brad’s cold nose buried into his neck before hot breath gusted over his throat. He felt the fight drain out of him, knowing he didn’t have the energy to go another round. They’d come over every day, offering their silent unwavering support. Who could resist that?
Not him, it would seem.
“Please come out with us. You need to talk about this. It’s not good to keep it inside. You know about my past and what happened to me. We’re your friends and we wanna help. It’s hurting us when you shut us out like this. We love you.”
At Brad
’s soft, teary voice, he had to swallow the ball of tears caught in the back of his throat. He held on to the arms clutching his chest, squeezing them tightly. He nodded, unable to speak past his overwhelming emotions. He’d never had friends like these guys, ones who genuinely wanted only what was best for him. Friends who wanted to listen to your problems and offered support rather than judgement.
Hadn’t he witnessed that time and time again over the last few weeks? Greg, Brad, and Joe liked him, regardless of the bullshit he brought with him. Bullshit he’d always carried alone, frightened he’d be judged for being different, especially with his side helping of crazy that came with him. It took a moment to register that all his friends had their own helping of crazy: Brad with Princess, Joe with his ex, Greg with Max and the other soul he carried. The startling reality pushed a feeling of lightness past the long-held burden.
He relaxed against Brad’s solid chest for a moment, letting his unwavering support hold him up. The silent presence of the other two men in the room when they moved, each rubbing at his arms as he clung to Brad, gave him the courage to meet their stares.
He offered them a wobbly smile when he saw their concern. His chin trembled with the effort not to let out the sob that was sitting there waiting for its chance to spurt out.
“All right, I’ll come willingly.” His teary voice seemed to do the trick. The tension they’d brought into the kitchen with them dissipated.
Nick held Brad for a moment longer before releasing his arms and stepping away from the warm, fragrant embrace. He turned and faced them all, forcing himself not to sag under the weight of his own anxiety. Uncertain what he was going to say, he let out an exhale when Greg spoke up.
“Right, I think a few cocktails at the Bath and Bottle are in order. I’ve booked a table for eight, so all you need to do is go and put on your glad rags. I’ll even ask Aaden to drop us in and come back and pick us up.” Greg gave them all a big sappy grin. “He’ll be well rewarded for it later.” Greg glanced at Brad and Joe, winking slyly before Nick could catch it.
