Page 33

33

MASON

I CAN’T STOP THINKING about all of it.

Leaning my head against the headrest, I reach for my phone and call Zayden. After a few rings, the call connects.

‘Hey,’ he says.

‘Hey.’

‘Is she okay?’

‘No, not really.’

‘I don’t know what to say to her.’

‘She’s worried about you,’ I tell him, closing my eyes, feeling a headache brewing. ‘She feels guilty about not realising what happened, and for not being there for you.’

‘I should have known that’s how she would feel. She’ll think she’s to blame.’

‘She does.’

‘How do I tell her that her not knowing made it easier?’ he asks, voice hollow. It tears me in half to hear him this dejected and empty. Zayden is the one who keeps on going, the sunshine in the room. The one who gets the party started and keeps it alive. It’s not right hearing this pain in his voice. He hasn’t tried to process any of this, and now it’s probably hitting him with full force.

‘Be honest. Say exactly how you feel. Not hearing from you is making her feel even worse about everything.’ I pause, debating whether to continue. ‘If I’ve learned anything from being close with your sister all this time, it’s that being honest about shit is the best way to deal with things. She deserves that.’

‘I just ... wanted to protect her from all this, y’know?’

‘I know,’ I say quietly. ‘Your mum called her this morning.’

There’s a long stretch of silence, then I hear the slight whoosh of his breath on the other end, letting me know he’s still there, processing what I just said.

‘What did she say?’ he eventually asks, throat sounding tight as he chokes out the words.

‘Anya didn’t answer. She’s feeling distraught about everything. Doesn’t know how to process her feelings towards your mum right now. You know, they’ve always been so close. This has hit her hard.’

‘This is so fucked up,’ Zayden says, his voice breaking. ‘She shouldn’t have ever found out. I should have kept my damn mouth shut.’

‘No,’ I disagree. ‘She should know what a monster he truly was. And what your mother did to protect him.’ Another pause. ‘She needed to know what happened to you.’

‘I shouldn’t have told her the way I did.’

‘It’s done now, Zay. We just have to figure out how the hell to move forward from all this.’

‘I’m glad you’re with her. She needs a good friend right now.’

Guilt floods me, and my heart hurts with each beat. We need to have that conversation, but I don’t know how to do it now, with everything going on. I don’t want to make anything worse between them when they need each other more than ever.

‘She’s in there,’ I say. ‘I’m waiting in the car. Only family allowed in.’

‘Jesus. I can’t believe I sent her there all on her own.’ He sighs. ‘Well. Obviously not alone. You know what I mean.’

‘She understands.’

I look up to see the door to the morgue opening. Anya emerges, paper-white, and stiffly walks towards the car. Our eyes meet, and she slowly nods.

‘Shit,’ I say.

‘What?’ Zayden barely breathes as he asks.

‘I think it was him.’

Anya hasn’t spoken a word for at least two hours.

Neither of us really feel like going home to face reality, so we decide to book another night at a hotel, though thankfully not the same one we stayed in last night. The things I heard through the walls are enough to make my skin crawl.

After laying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, Anya finally drifts off to a restless sleep. Her phone has been ringing non-stop. Mostly her mother, but an unknown number as well, which I’m half tempted to answer, but I also don’t want to invade her privacy. I spoke with her mum and let her know Rod was in the accident. I will never be able to unhear the sound she made at the news. My ears have been ringing all afternoon.

I have my AirPods jammed in my ears, trying to focus on a lecture to pass the time. For the first half hour, I was able to concentrate and take notes, but now I’m feeling agitated. I need to get out of this room and distract myself with something that isn’t so damn depressing. I feel like I can’t breathe.

When Anya finally stirs, she agrees that moping around and thinking about all the dark shit that’s going on is making us both feel worse. Within half an hour, we are walking into the centre of a small coastal town I’ve never heard of, with the crisp night air nipping at us. My hand is threaded through hers as we try to find a restaurant to eat at. It’s a quiet place, but busy enough that most places have plenty of taken tables when we peer through the window. Anya’s stomach grumbles, and I look over at her. She offers me a sheepish smile, placing her free hand over her stomach. She hasn’t been able to keep any food down all day.

Deciding on the next closest restaurant, we enter, and it’s buzzing with activity. Although a bit outdated, the place has character. The floor is patterned with large black-and-white checks, and all the tables are booths with worn brown leather seats that curve around in a semicircle. A jukebox near the back blares ’80s hits, and there are a few older couples dancing on a makeshift dance floor near the bar.

‘This place is awesome.’ Anya smiles, and my own lips curve upwards at the sight of it. She is the only person who makes my heart feel as if it could stop dead in my chest. She also makes it restart.

‘It seems so out of place compared to the other restaurants we passed,’ I say in amusement, directing her towards the last free booth. We drop into it side by side, facing the dance floor.

‘I hope we have that much fun when we’re older,’ she muses.

‘We will. We are the fun.’

A guy who doesn’t even look old enough to serve alcohol appears at our table, placing two menus and a wine list in front of us. We each order a glass of rosé, and to save everyone the hassle, I order Anya’s meal without asking, because she always orders the same thing. She rolls her eyes, but smiles playfully at me. Warmth spreads in my chest, as she looks a lot better than she did earlier.

‘You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be an adult so bad,’ I say, leaning back into the leather and shifting towards her. ‘I wanted so desperately to be big and strong, to be able to fight him off.’ I don’t need to elaborate on who I’m talking about. ‘I wanted that independence so badly. Didn’t want to rely on him for anything. But now that I’m here, I just wish I could be a kid again.’ I exhale heavily. ‘Not go through my childhood again – God no – but to experience what it would be like to just be free and oblivious.’

‘I get it,’ she says. ‘I wish I could go back to the time when shaving my legs before sport was my biggest concern.’

A loud laugh spills from my lips, taking us both by surprise, and Anya smiles.

‘I know I’m studying exercise science, but half the time, I still don’t know what I really want to do after university. Which is kind of not good, since I’m already at uni, studying.’

‘I know. Me too. My degree doesn’t even promise me a job at the end,’ she says thoughtfully. She studies me for a moment. ‘Did you know Rod gave me a really hard time about doing a degree in art?’

I raise a brow. ‘He did?’

‘He said it’s a pointless degree that doesn’t promise a good financial future. He then said I’d better marry rich.’

I shake my head, anger flaring inside me. I never liked the guy. As soon as Louise introduced him to us all, I had a really off feeling in my gut. I could never put my finger on it exactly. Perhaps the lingering stares at us for that heartbeat too long. The awkward, off-hand comments that rolled off everyone’s back, but seemed to stick in my mind. I’ve always been naturally observant, and my intuition was always screaming about him. I wish I’d done something. Anything . I have no idea what I could have done, but it still makes my skin feel prickly thinking about how he treated their mum, and Zayden, too.

‘Well. I don’t think his words should be taken too seriously.’

‘I’m starting to agree with that,’ she mutters.

A waiter brings us our wine and assures us our food isn’t far away. We clink glasses and take a long hearty sip. I never drink wine, because it always gives me a shocking headache the next day, but one or two glasses shouldn’t cause too much damage to the head tomorrow.

‘I feel so sophisticated,’ Anya smirks.

‘You certainly look it,’ I agree with an exaggerated wink.

She snorts. Reaching for my hand, she runs her thumb across my knuckles. I play with her fingers, and then bring her hand up to the table.

‘Your scar is looking a lot better,’ I observe, running my fingertip across it.

‘Yeah. Took a long time, but I barely notice it now.’

Anya always had a large, raised freckle on her left pinky finger. She loathed it. She begged her doctor to remove it, which he didn’t want to do. He said it was a beauty spot, and that it was totally normal. Zayden always teased her about it, knowing it would make her react. One day, she convinced the doctor to remove it, and she ended up with four stitches and a pretty decent scar. I don’t think she realised it was going to be so sore and leave such a significant mark. But now that years have passed, it’s barely noticeable: a slightly raised white line that runs on a diagonal across the bottom of her pinky. One night, when she was upset about how it looked – and I was more than tipsy – I told her that when I proposed, no one will notice the scar, because they will be looking at the big rock on her hand. She blushed a deep red that I swear went all the way to her toes.

When dinner arrives, we order one more glass of wine each. Anya’s cheeks are flushed a gorgeous pink, and bits of her hair have unravelled from the loose bun it’s in. She’s still far from okay, but she has a little bit of her spark back.

‘I feel like I need a coffee to keep my eyes open,’ I say, rubbing the corners of my eyes.

‘Oh my God!’ she suddenly exclaims, and I almost spill my drink. ‘That reminds me, you know that cafe we used to go to when you finished work?’

‘Smooth Brew?’

‘Yeah! Well, turns out, it was being run by this guy who started a cult, and he fully used to try and get the customers to join!’

My mouth falls open. ‘What?’

‘Yeah! I told you the guy with the monobrow was shady.’

I chuckle, shaking my head in bewilderment. ‘You did, actually. I remember that.’

‘And now, I think about that time he invited us over for tea. He was totally trying to get us to join.’

My eyes widen. ‘That is actually creepy as hell.’

‘Right?’ she agrees.

Just then, her phone vibrates, and we exchange a look of dread before she flips it over. Private number. She frowns, and we both stare at it in silence as it rings.

‘I’m getting a bit anxious about this now.’

‘I don’t think the cafe owner will remember us, Blush. I think we’re safe.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Funny. I meant about these private calls I’ve been getting. I think it might be Dylan.’

I straighten my spine, looking at her in alarm. ‘What?’

‘I blocked his number, and then got this weird message saying that blocking the number isn’t going to stop him contacting me, and now all these No Caller ID numbers keep phoning me. I’m getting more and more each day.’

‘What the fuck?’ I exclaim, my anger boiling over as I picture Dylan Peterson’s smug face in my mind. ‘That’s not okay. I’m going to answer the next time they call.’

‘No!’ she quickly argues, shaking her head and shoving her phone into her bag, out of my reach. ‘He wants a reaction, and I’m refusing to give him one. He’ll get bored and move on eventually.’

‘He caused all of this, though, so why would he be harassing you? What does he think it’ll achieve?’

She shrugs. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘That dude needs a life.’

‘Agreed.’

We finish dinner, then walk around town for a while, trying to keep each other distracted, but my mind keeps returning to the harassing phone calls. I enjoy talking about old times and making each other laugh. The fact that we can make each other laugh right now is a miracle, but it’s always been like this with us: easy, effortless, and like the entire world around us doesn’t exist.

Anya yawns. ‘I think the day is starting to catch up to me.’

Wrapping an arm around her, I pull her close. ‘Me too.’

After a loop of the town, realising most places are shutting for the night, we end up back at the hotel. Stepping inside the elevator, I press the button for our floor, and as I step back, I lean over, brushing my mouth across the corner of hers. Her eyes shift to mine, then drop to my lips, and I feel my pulse begin to race.

The doors open, and we step into the hall, brushing hands. I fumble for the card and slide it over the lock, allowing us entry to the room. Looping her arms around me, she presses her lips to my cheek, slowly moving up my jaw.

‘I thought you were tired,’ I choke out, voice hoarse.

‘Not anymore ...’ she trails off, tongue snaking over my skin, making me melt into a puddle of liquid at her feet. ‘Are you?’

‘Suddenly, not so much.’

I sweep her off her feet, kick the door shut and crash my lips against hers.