Page 32 of All the Forbidden Things

“Fuck. My sources are telling me that Carmen Bosworth was arrested at around nine-thirty Pacific Time in relation to the death of her husband, Michael Bosworth. I’m waiting for a call back with more details. I’ve also gotten onto someone from the hospital. I lied and pretended I was you, Cal, all they’ve confirmed is that her injuries are non-life-threatening. The jet’s good to go, you just need to get your arse to Heathrow ASAP. I’ll meet you there.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” Cal wipes at his tears then looks to me. “We need to get to her.”

“Thanks, Aaron, we’ll see you in about two hours, depending on traffic,” I tell him.

“Okay, I’ll call as soon as I know any more.”

He ends the call, and Cal holds his hand out and pulls me down into his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, bury my fingers in the back of his hair, and hold his face against my chest.

“She’s okay. She’s a strong girl, we’ll get her through this.”

“That fucker. Good job that fucker’s dead.”

“I know. I know. If he weren’t, there’d be a long line of people wanting him that way, not just you.”

“She’s been through so much. She’s still only a kid, and she’s been through so much already.”

“Baby, I know. I’m so sorry.”

“We shouldn’t have let her go. I should have made her stay . . .”

I lift his face, so he has to look up at me. “Cal, Cal, she’s twenty-two, you can’t stop her. Yeah, she was only eighteen when she left to go over there for college, but even then, it washerchoice.”

His face crumbles, and he starts to cry again. “I’m her big brother, I’m all she has. I’m supposed to look after her, protect her.”

“You do all of those things, baby, but what you don’t and can’t do is stop her from living her life.”

“What the fuck’s going on?”

We both look up to see Makenzie standing a few feet away. Callum releases his grip, and I stand. “Billie’s okay, but she’s been assaulted and hospitalised. You need to go pack a bag. We’re taking the label’s jet to Los Angeles.”

My loud-mouthed seventeen-year-old daughter, who usually has an answer for every-fucking-thing, opens and closes her mouth a few times. Her eyes slide from me to Cal. “Is she...Why? Mum . . . Dad?” She flings herself at Cal, and he wraps her in his arms. I leave him to explain all that we know as I head upstairs to pack our bags.

Max

“Max.”

I begrudgingly open my eyes at the sound of my mum’s voice and have to blink a few times before she comes into focus.

We had a bad night last night. It started with a shit afternoon and went downhill from there. When I’d gotten back from my meeting with Lennon, I told Mum about my plan to allow Whitney to recover here. We rarely disagreed. Mum might not always be happy with my choices, but generally, she was cool and kept her thoughts to herself. I knew without words when she was pissed off or disappointed in me, and more often than not, her silence affected me more than her ranting and raving. Yesterday, she didn’t hold back, though, and flat-out told me I was a fucking idiot for even considering letting Whitney move back here, even temporarily. She didn’t hang around to try and understand my reasoning. Instead, she left.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Mum says, “but Cal has called three times and now Mel’s just rung.”

Mum’s worried blue eyes look down at me.

I place my hands across the back of Layla’s head and bum to support her, as I swing my legs around and get myself into a seated position.

“Want me to take her?” Mum asks softly.

I shake my head. “I’ve got her.”

She watches me for a few seconds before reaching out and running her fingers through my hair and then over my beard. “You need a haircut. Those whiskers are gonna give the baby a rash.”

“Yeah, I need to ask Gaynor to book Sharee for me. I like the beard though, I’ll get some oil to keep it soft.”

“It does suit you. I know I’m biased, but you’re such a handsome boy, Max.”

I chuckle. “I’m thirty-eight, Mum. Hardly a boy.”