“You’re still going?” Tori’s eyes darted in disbelief between Jayden, who was clenching down on the corner of his lip with his teeth forcefully with concentration, and Shannon, who was carefully folding clothes and packing the holdall despite the almost untraceable tremor in her hands.
“Yes,” Shannon muttered, refusing to look over at her friend – at the pleading, beseeching look in her tempestuous violet eyes, “I’m still going Tor, I’ve put it off long enough now. I need those papers signed as soon as possible, I’m running out of funds!”
“I’ll loan it to you! Just please, don’t go Shan! He’s a maniac, please, just stay here!”
Shannon threw her flannel tracksuits aside in a heavy pile angrily, “I won’t put myself and my own fucking shit to the side for a man again! He’s not going to have me cowering away like some frightened little mouse because of a damn phone call, who the fuck does he think he is?” her voice was almost an angry roar by the end, and Ava’s feeble wail floated through the walls so that Tori marched off with a frustrated exhale.
She stopped at the door frame, one hand resting on the polished wood as she turned back to Shannon, “You were having a panic attack five minutes ago, and now you’re fucking off to London with a lunatic on your tail, and I don’t even think you’re ready to be back there regardless,” she shook her head sadly, “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, Shan, I can’t even begin to imagine. But don’t push me away, please. You can’t win a game you don’t know the rules to; I’m not asking you to hide, I’m asking you to be careful – there’s a massive difference.”
Shannon turned away, her eyes looking out over the garden – filled with flowers and picnic tables, a garden swing, and even a slide that Ava was years too young to play with – and she’d never felt so completely alone.
“This isn’t my safe haven,” her voice had lost its steam, it was completely flat.
“Then where is?” Tori muttered softly, “You barely stand still long enough to find out.”
Dead silence lingered in her wake, as Shannon quietly continued her packing while Jayden stayed slouched against the wall, watching her.
“She just wants to be there for you Shannon,” he said quietly, “You can’t punish everyone in your life that wants to reach out to you. I get it ...”
A harsh sound burst free from her lips – an oddly emotionless sound that floated somewhere between a sob and a vacant, empty exhale.
“No, Jayden, I don’t think you do. We aren’t the same person, just because we both felt the back of Daddy’s hand a few times too many,” pulling her arms around her front, she stared down at the piles of meaningless things she had lying on the bed in front of her, “I see you, Jay. I know it kills you some mornings not to grab them both in your arms and never let them go. Tori’s so special – she’s like purity personified, and she’s someone that you should absolutely treasure until your dying day, because I don’t believe you’d have had your fairy tale ending with anybody else. There’s nothing like that left for me, Jay. That’s a ship that sailed, struck an iceberg, and I drowned somewhere out there on the raft. I’m not broken – broken implies that I could somehow be fixed. I’m fucking ruined, there’s no coming back from that.”
Jayden’s ice blue eyes were filled with a pity she couldn’t bear to turn towards, and he carefully picked up a small snow globe from the bedside table, turning it over and over in his hands before he spoke quietly, “Nate would throttle you with his bare hands if he heard you say that.”
“I can’t be seventeen again,” she shrugged sadly, “Sometimes I desperately wish I could be, but I can’t.”
**********************************
Rory arrived fifteen minutes late, with bright red lipstick smeared over the dark tattoos that reached around the thick column of his throat, and she chuckled when she saw him, licking her thumb before wiping it away and calling him a whore.
“If there is a God,” he drawled cheekily, his trademark dimple creasing at the corner of his mouth as he smiled, “He didn’t give me this beautiful package so that I’d be selfish and keep it to myself, and if there isn’t a God, then I guess nobody really gives a shit anyway.”
She couldn’t disagree with him, Rory really was a fine specimen of maleness even if she had only ever – and would only ever see him as a best friend, and a brother. He was just as screwed up – if not more so than she was.
He had that perfect edge of bad boy, everything about him screamed “boy next door turned filthy playboy” which made him the ideal predator for females and males alike - they either wanted to change him or exhaust him, but either way, he never failed. The dirty blonde hair was styled with a stiff wax to look like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the frosted white tips brought out the almost turquoise tint in his green eyes. He had lean muscles – perfectly sculpted and toned, but nowhere near as powerful and intimidating as Nate’s body appeared. Although Rory was a good five inches shorter than Nate as well, at only five foot eleven.
But what was most deadly about her beloved friend was his charm – his ability to say anything you wanted to hear – just to get the conquest and move on to the next. His stepbrother’s mental and sexual cruelty had brought out a deadly streak in his sexuality – and it would be deadly she knew, if not to some poor girl or guy’s broken heart then to Rory himself, and his physical health, because he damn sure had that self destruction bullshit down to a fine art.
He craved the control of the chase, she’d surmised once during a particularly lucid conversation in the early hours of the morning when he’d been staying with her in London – after he’d disappeared for five days on some sex and drugs binge. He desired the power over his partners more than the people themselves, so that once he’d felt that he was over it instantly.
Throwing his rucksack into the boot, he climbed into the passenger seat, shifting to get comfortable with his lean, tall frame in the close confines of her TT.
“How long are we driving for again?” he asked lazily, looking around himself dubiously, “Like four hours? God this’ll be grim! You couldn’t have bought a bigger car, no?”
Her head shot round as she fired up the ignition, fiddling with the music settings, “Do not diss my new baby.”
“I’m not dissing her sweetie, she’s sexy as sin, but there won’t ever be any action in that back seat ... unless you get real flexible real quickly, and find a midget that’s not worried about close confined spaces!”
She chuckled softly, flicking through her CD collection, “No danger there!”
“Oh, honey, no! Are you still on a drought?”
She stiffened in her seat, her body on hyper-alert as the memories of Nate’s hands on her flesh rolled through her, almost as though his fingertips were ghostly beings whispering over her skin.
“Um, not exactly,” she muttered, turning the key and putting all of her concentration into reversing out of the winding driveway.
“Oh my God,” he squealed next to her, “Tell me details!”
“Um, no,” she muttered, a blush rising over her skin slowly. Fuck, Rory would blow a gasket on this, why did he have to ask that question, she could have avoided it if he hadn’t asked! But she couldn’t lie to him, he knew her too well.
He considered her a moment, watching the colour rise beneath her olive skin, and the wary look in her dark eyes.
“Nate?” he asked, clenching his teeth, “Nate fucking Casey?! Have you hit your head somewhere?!”
“It’s not like that,” she said, subdued by the harsh tones in his voice.
“I don’t see how it could be any other way with the way you feel about him!” he rubbed his hands over his eyes in frustration, “Seriously? Have you forgotten last time? It took me two years to get you to so much as fucking smile again Shannon, and now you want to drop in there for round two?”
Her eyes darted to his angrily, “I think that was probably an amalgamation of things Rory, what with losing my child and all! Don’t throw that in my face right now, don’t you fucking dare!”
He groaned, knocking back his head against the headrest, “Fuck, I’m sorry, babe. I know it was, but if he wasn’t such a bastard to you, you’d never have been in that position! I’m just worried about you babe, you’re vulnerable right now! I just ... a man like that, a man who’s that fucked up, he’s not good for you.”
Rory was in no position to judge her, as far as she could see, and his words brought a stiffening defence into her blood. Nate wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but he probably was the only person she could ever feel so pulled to, so comfortable with, given her past.
“Maybe not,” she shrugged stiffly, “But I can’t really see anybody that ever would be.”
“So what, you’ll be condemning yourself to a life of emotional torture?”
She shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the road, “Who knows? It won’t happen again, I know that much.”
“It really is a shame you don’t even put a twitch in my dick,” he remarked, “Because we’d be fucking perfect together.”
“I’d give it an hour,” she chuckled, “Before you gave up and went after the first hole you spotted.”
“Probably,” he sighed, giving in and looking out of the window wistfully, “I live a hard life...”
Although the rest of the long drive had tired her out, Shannon couldn’t sleep that night. All of her old life was laid out in the apartment, as she’d basically just got up and left after the incident, and she’d only been back to pick up a few essentials, so she really had loads to sort through.
It was strange, looking back like this. She almost couldn’t remember who she’d been before Nate had reappeared in her life, before she’d gone running to Tori and all of the lies and secrets had fallen apart around them like cobwebs off an old dresser that’s been left to rot in an attic for years and years on end.
Her life had been sterile; looking around quietly, she could see that. She had no pictures here, no ornaments or anything – just candles in fancy dishes, and canvas photographs of woods and forests that had reminded her of home – without reminding her of everyone in her life at home.
There were imitation plants and flowers – but there was no life in this place. It looked like a show home – completely fucking anonymous – and she realised she’d sort of always felt that way anyway. She’d been a good model, fantastic actually, and incredibly successful despite the fact that she’d stayed with her small time agent.
She’d been good, because it never felt any different to her, she’d been playing a role in her own life without really being inside it at all.
Rory’s words might well be true, it probably was emotional torture being around Nate at all right now, but at least she was feeling something.
She’d set her phone to silent when Rory went to bed an hour ago, fearing Tori would call, panicking that she’d never made it there.
But when the phone vibrated against her sleek glass coffee table, she was surprised to hear from her friend. With it being almost four in the morning, she’d imagined her to be tucked up safely.
Evidently, she must have been, as Nate’s name flashed up in the caller display instead.
“How are you?” he asked softly, once she answered.
“I’m uh, I’m okay I think,” she sighed, throwing a blanket over her legs as she curled up on the dark leather couch, her eyes playing across the screen as she watched an old rerun of Walking Dead with the sound turned to mute, “Tired after the drive.”
“Then you should sleep more,” he teased, sounding as though he was making himself comfortable, before his voice came out terse and strained, as though he was holding himself back, “So are you going to tell me about Sebastienne?”
“It sounds like you know already?”
“Well, of course I fucking know,” he grated, “You think Jay’s going to sit about and listen quietly while some psycho threatens my woman? Of course he told me! What I want to know is why you never told me!”
“Two reasons probably,” she drawled, “The first being the fact that it’s none of your business, and the second being – oh yeah, it’s none of your fucking business!”
“Oh, like fuck!” he exhaled angrily, “Even if last weekend had never happened, you always have been, just stop boxing shadows and fucking tell me!”
“He’s a fucking nutjob,” she muttered, “What’s the issue? He just wailed on calling me pet and slut, before not really saying much else at all. I overreacted, panicked, he just reminded me so much of my father, and I just ... couldn’t help it. I’m over it, seriously.”
She could hear his teeth grinding against each other down the phone – the enamel making a tiny scratching sound that was almost like static.
“I’m going to kill him,” he spoke in a cold, dead voice – not one single inflection in his tone that he was as angry as he seemed, “You get that right? It won’t be pretty, or heroic, it’s going to be fucking brutal and messy. I don’t want you to know that bit, but I feel like I should tell you. Franchetti doesn’t get to do it – neither does Jay, much as I know he’s chomping at the bit to do so. That piece of shit is all mine – but I’m going to ruin him first.”
She nodded her head, his tone more than anything was the most terrifying thing she had ever heard coming from his lips – he didn’t sound like Nate at all, he sounded like a piece of human fucking weaponry – cold, solid and fucking deadly.
Realising he couldn’t see her, she cleared her throat before speaking in a small voice with a simple “Yeah.”
His own voice softened as he heard the fear in hers, “It’s not your fault, babe.”
“It feels like it is.”
“It’s not. The only thing that his dirty little obsession with you in this big pile of fucking shit changes is that I’ll be making sure it’s my hand he goes by, that’s it. I want him finished – in every fucking way I can think of, I want him gone, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I just want you to be careful, keep your head down. Don’t make any arrangements to go over to the city, I know you’re in London right now, but just keep your head down.”
“I don’t want to be scared like this again,” she murmured, pulling the blanket up over her chilled flesh, “I just don’t want to keep running.”
“You’re not running, and I’m not asking you to hide either,” he said softly, “But I want you to be safe, I really need to know that you’re safe. Can you do that – if not for you, then for me?”
Quietly, in a voice so like her seventeen year old self that he closed his eyes on the other end of the line and savoured it as it emerged, she agreed.
***************************************
Three days passed in a blur, as she went from her Estate Agent, to her solicitor, and back to the flat, packing up boxes for the Charity Shop, and others to take back home. Rory was sort of helpful – in a similar way to the help of a small child with a large capacity for physical exertion.
As long as she gave him exact instructions, he would be fine – she just had to be aware that he did have the attention span of a four year old, and would probably wander astray if she didn’t keep an eye on him.
But when she spotted her baby album, on the bottom shelf behind all the old copies of Cosmopolitan she’d binned, she was suddenly drained by his twitchy fidgeting, and sent him out for a little fun.
The chances were that she wouldn’t see him for another three days, she thought, as he grabbed his McKenzie jacket off the hook, blew her a kiss from the front door, and then disappeared through it.
Pouring herself a strong shot of whiskey, she curled up against the cushions, flicking through the delicate pages, until she rested on the only picture she had of her beautiful baby girl, and stroked the soft cheek of her child through the protective plastic that lay over the image.
She wasn’t expecting visitors, so the knock at her door surprised her as she hadn’t heard the intercom either, which anyone would need to get into the building. Deciding Rory had probably forgotten his keys, she unfolded herself from the couch and turned the latch without locking through the peephole.
So when Nate’s eyes met hers from behind the door, she started softly, looking back over her shoulder into the sparse empty living space, before back at him.
“How did you get in?” she murmured.
“I uh, a woman was leaving,” he turned his head as if she would pop up behind him, confirming his story – hands in the pockets of his dark combat trousers, he looked a little nervous, “She let me in. She had a kid with her ... and some shopping, I gave her a hand with the bags ...”
“I don’t know any of my neighbours,” she murmured, a frown marring her features, “Uh, come in I guess? You want some tea?”
He nodded, his eyes looking around the room slowly as he followed her in, taking in the decor, the space – eager for some insight into her life without him in it – drinking in every tiny detail.
She’d forgotten the album laying open on the table, and the birth certificate in the back that she’d had to have written out so that she could register the beautiful baby’s death.
She’d forgotten she’d had his name put on it.
So when she came back into the lounge, and saw him holding it – despair and agony playing across every plane of his face as he looked up at her in confusion, she dropped the mug of hot tea to the floor, the scalding liquid burning into her flesh as the porcelain shattered at her feet.