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Marcus shakes his head despondently. “No good can come from this. What the hell do you think is going to happen? If Miles forgives Indie, and things move forward with them, it’ll only cause more hassle. Jake has made it clear he likes her, and I can’t see him backing off.

“Eventually, Indie will need to choose between them, and the last thing I need is a war between Miles and Jake. Things have only just settled since the last punching match. Not only that,Miles is his sober companion, so if they fall out, Jake’s sobriety could be on the line.”

Chloe’s eyes widen and she looks alarmed, her gaze frantically flicking between me and Marcus. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Calm down, Chloe. If it comes to that, I promise I’ll talk to Jake. I’ll always put his sobriety first.”

What I really want to say is that it might not come down to a choice. Ever since Jacob put the idea of us all sharing each other in my head, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it. Well, over-analysing would be a much better description.

Chloe talks, pulling me away from those ever present thoughts. “Before things even get close to that, you need to talk to Indie about her leaving. Obviously, when she left, it hurt you a lot. You’ve heard her reasons for leaving, but I think, for you to even begin clearing the air, you have to tell her how much it affected you.”

As much as I hate thinking back on those days, I know Chloe is right. We have to draw a line over the past, but before we can do that, we have to make sure nothing is left unsaid.

Before I can focus on that, there’s one final thing I need to talk to Marcus about, and when I turn to face him, he’s glaring at me like he’s had enough shit to deal with for one day.

“As much as I hate to say this, Marcus, I think you’re going to need to arrange a meeting with Bree and the Doughtys. They need to know about Gregg The Twat and The Cunt—Jacob’s nicknames,” I add as Chloe laughs.

Marcus rolls his eyes, but I can see he’s fighting to hold back a smile, too. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing Bree as much as I am.” There’s a sarcastic edge to his voice, so I flip my middle finger at him.

“I have a healthy fear of Bree, and I think anyone who doesn’t is a fucking lunatic,” I state unashamedly.

There’s a reason a girl who is younger than me can keep a country full of men in line… She’s someone you don’t mess with!

“True,” Marcus agrees. “Still doesn’t mean I want to meet with her any more often than I have to. She’s going to be pissed when we bring this to her.”

I nod, wincing as I think about her losing her temper. “We need her and her family’s help to keep Indie safe. Besides, The Count sounds like someone who needs shutting down as soon as possible. Bree has the resources and the power to do that.”

Chloe cuts in. “If she can help you save any children he’s taken, as well as keeping Indie safe, you have to do it.”

She’s looking at Marcus with those pleading eyes, and even though my best friend would have said yes to me eventually, he caves a lot quicker when she flutters her lashes at him like that.

“Fine. I’ll set up an appointment,” Marcus grumbles, and Chloe pulls him in for a kiss.

“That’s my cue to leave,” I grumble as I jump down from the stool.

As I walk down to the room I keep here at Marcus’, I think about the conversation I need to have with Indie. Chloe was right when she said we can’t move forward unless everything has been laid out.

Indie told me why she left, and now I understand, but it doesn’t change the way I felt after she’d gone. I need to tell her about what happened during that time, to help her understand why her absence hit me harder than it would normally have.

She opened up and told me about the worst time in her life, and now I owe her the same favour. I’ve spent a long time trying not to think about how dark things got, but now I have to let the memories in.

- SEVEN YEARS AGO -

Before I met Dee, my life was slowly falling to shit, but after just one evening of laughing with her, I seem to have the clarity needed to face my problems.

Each time we hung out after that, she drained a little more of the darkness from my life, shining her own special brand of light over everything. She gave me the strength I needed to do the right thing, even when I didn’t feel like it.

A couple of weeks after meeting Dee, I eventually got to talk to Mum. She let me in the house, and from the moment I stepped inside, I was horrified. The house that I once called home looked like a drug den.

Rubbish lay across every surface, dirt and mould climbed the walls, and the carpets were so disgusting, I stuck to them as I walked.

Mum doesn’t look much better. Her face is pale and gaunt, and she’s lost so much weight, I can see her bones. The clothes she’s wearing hang loosely off her fragile-looking frame.

Her long blonde hair is greasy and thinning out. I’m also pretty sure she’s not brushed it in a long time. She has patches of acne across her face, along with scabs from where she’s been scratching.

Yet it’s her pale-blue eyes that worry me the most. They used to be exact replicas of mine, but now hers are so sunken and lifeless, nobody would say we look the same.

Although Mum lets me in the house to talk, I’m not sure how much progress we’re going to make, as her dilated pupils and general spacey demeanour suggest she scored not too long ago.