Shadows and Stars: A Darker Love ✔

Chapter Seventy Three

MIA

I hadn't realised how tired I was until the glare of my alarm stunned me into an early morning daze.

Staring straight to the ceiling, I contemplated everything that was said last night between Lucas and I. He was right by all accounts though, and I never want to make him feel like he's going to lose his sister.

Not after we both lost our mother.

I hop out of bed and take a quick shower, making sure I'm downstairs in time for Dad's exquisite poached eggs on toast.

"Morning sweetie," he sings as I help myself to the carton of orange juice that's sat on the table. "Breakfast will be ready in five."

I nod, smiling wholeheartedly. "Thanks Dad. You really don't need to wait on me though. I can make my own meals."

"I know. But I want to. It's not often I get to see you now."

I smile again, taking a seat and watching as the clouds grey over us from outside.

"That being said," Dad says eagerly, pulling me from my trance. "How long will you be staying for?"

I stare down to my hands that rest nervously upon my knees, because I know sooner rather than later I'm going to have to go back to London and face the heartache that city currently brings me.

"Just a few more days," I mumble quietly. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

Dad's eyes pop to the point I think they may explode out of their sockets. "No! Honey! I didn't mean it like that at all! I love having you around. You know that."

I nod sheepishly. "I know. But I do have to get back for work next week."

"Of course honey."

Just as Dad serves breakfast, Lucas emerges from the hallway and sits at the table, giving me a sly but sure smile that somewhat lifts my nervous mood.

"Morning Lucas," Dad says, digging into his breakfast. "You two have a good walk last night?"

"Yep," we say in unison, not wanting to share anything further than that.

We did have a good walk though, and a good talk. And that's all that's needed to be said.

At midday, I hang the laundry out while Dad and Lucas are at work, and then I proceed to straighten the house out in order to make myself useful whilst I'm staying here.

Outside, the postman tucks some letters into our postbox, so I quickly go outside to retrieve them.

I bring them inside and toss them onto the kitchen counter, flicking on the kettle so I can take five minutes.

I don't know how I'm going to tackle London when I get home. I just need to carry on my usual life without the biggest part in it - Grayson.

I need my best friend and I need the steadiness of my work and studies. I need the calm of Anderson and the drive of Danny. I even need the force of Michael, because at least his power keeps my head in my work.

I just hate the anxiety. I hate the thought of running into Grayson at every turn, at seeing a white Mercedes on every corner, or striding past every restaurant or bar we've been to and being haunted with memories. I hate the feeling of being suffocated by his presence even if he's nowhere around me.

Because he's always around me.

I flop at the kitchen table, staring aimlessly out the window and watching as the dark grey sky looms in closer, marking the impending rain.

Then I look around the kitchen, remembering all to vividly how my mum and I would sing and laugh in this kitchen, making anything and everything we could by using leftover food. I look at the makeshift vase that holds all the cooking utensils, remembering how Mum used to sing into the spatula to the songs that blared from the radio that sat on the windowsill. I remember when Lucas forgot to put the lid onto the blender properly and tomato juice went flying across the kitchen counters. Lucas was mortified, but we all just laughed hysterically because that's what you do in a happy family.

And we were a happy family. We are a happy family.

Mum being gone was the single most hardest thing I had to live through, and her absence from my life will always be the hardest thing I will ever have to deal with. But her sheer optimism, courage and how she saw the good in everybody, has enabled me to have the ambition to do the same.

Straightening my shoulders, I drag in a deep sigh, stand and grab a mug from the cupboard. Then I turn around, and my eye catches one of the envelopes on the side that I just collected from the post box.

Then I drop the mug to the floor, and it shatters everywhere.