Page 117 of All the Forbidden Things

“Right now, I don’t fucking care.”

“Fair enough, I’ll get onto it tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest Billie gets out of London, and maybe send Layla to stay with your mum for a few days.”

“Fuck,” is all I can say. This is too much. I can handle the shit I’ve got coming my way, but if this is just a taste of the way Billie’s gonna get ripped apart, then I don’t know if I can deal.

“Are you absolutely sure about all of this. I don’t mean kicking Whitney out, you should never have let her back here in the first place. I’m talking about Billie. You do realise what’s at stake by starting something up with her, not just from a PR perspective, but what it might mean for you and Cal, the band?”

“We didn’tjuststart something up. It happened, there was no choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Max.”

“Fuck off, Al. It was you who said to stop doing what I thought was right and to do what makes me happy, and that’s her, Billie, she makes me so fucking happy.”

Aaron’s blue eyes shine as they take me in.

“When no one else is around, when it’s just her, Layla, and me? It’s so fucking easy.”

He nods slowly. “I get that, Max. I understand, believe me. The problem is your lifestyle doesn’t allow for that.”

I rub at my face with my palms and press my fingertips into my eyes.

“Let’s get Billie and the baby out of London. You can stay over here for a couple of days, lie low, get your head on straight, then you can leave. You just need to be seen to be distancing yourself from Billie right now, let her disappear first, you can go in a few days.”

I nod, feeling defeated. I know getting Billie and Layla away from this shitshow is for the best, but I already feel like we’re losing the battle for ourusbefore it’s even begun.

My phone vibrates from my back pocket, and this time I pull it out. Cal’s name is displayed on the screen.

Fucking great.

“Do not even start with me,” I tell him as soon as I pick up.

“I’m gonna do more than fucking start when I get there. I’m just coming up your road. Is she okay? She’s not answering her phone. Kenzie reckons there are pictures online of the police arriving.”

“Just come straight to the flat.” I end the call without another word at the same moment Billie appears at the top of the stairs.

My phone skids across the worktop with the force I use to sling it down. Not waiting to see if it crashes to the floor, I move towards her, but she puts her hand up to stop me.

“You let them examine her in front of Whitney? Why, Max? Why weren’t you with her?” Her voice is high, almost shrill in disbelief.

“What? Because I didn’t wanna leaveyou.”

Her eyes widen, her shoulders slump, and I’m not sure if it’s in relief or defeat.

“I knew about the accusations, they’d already told me. I couldn’t leave you while they threw all of that shit your way. Layla was fine, the doctor bloke had introduced himself, and I knew she’d be fine. Whitney wasn’t gonna pull anything in front of him, but who was gonna be there for you, Bamm? I wanted to be the one to tell you what was going on, not the social worker or the police.”

Her lips tremble as her blue eyes fill with tears. “You couldn’t even look at me.” Her chest heaves as she fights not to cry as she speaks.

“No, I couldn’t. This is my fault. That pair of bitches have come after you because of me, this is all my fucking fault.” I move towards her again, and this time she doesn’t stop me, she couldn’t even if she tried. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head.

“Aaron’s sitting on my sofa,” she mumbles into my chest.

“He knows about us, I’ve told him everything.”

She pulls her head back so she can look up me, and her tear-stained face breaks my fucking heart, but I smile when she asks with wide eyes, “Everything?”

I shake my head. “Not . . . that. Just . . .” I’m not sure what words to use. “What’s going on between us, what we're feeling for each other. I’ve told him about the crackle, Bamm, but that’s it.” I slide my hand to the back of her neck, pull her in tight, and say against her ear, “I’ve told him about the crackle, not about the fireworks.”

“Your brother’s just pulled up on the driveway, Billie. I suggest if you want Max to keep the parts of him that cause those fireworks, you go into your bathroom, wash your face, and do not mention a single word about fizzles, sizzles, pops, or fucking crackles,” Aaron suggests.