Page 33 of Falling for You

Remy takes a sip of his coffee. ‘She seemed nice.’

I spot the twinkle in his eye and can’t help but smile.

‘What’s your story then, Remy?’ I ask. ‘Why are you spending your weekends hanging out with me? Do you have someone at home?’

Remy shakes his head. ‘Oh no, not me.’

‘I bet you know all the tricks.’

He smiles, his lips pressed together. ‘I know a few.’

‘Well then, what? Are you dating someone? What’s going on?’

He gives me a look and places his coffee on the floor. ‘Nothing, mate.’

‘Why not?’

He shrugs coyly. ‘Who knows, eh?’

I knit my brow when an idea pops into my head. ‘Do you like theatre?’

He frowns at me. ‘Theatre?’

‘I’ve got tickets to a show if you want to come. My aunt is in it. She’s the one I’m trying to get to visit my mom. I thought going to see her in her show might get me in her good books.’

He smirks and then cocks his head. ‘Sure. Why not?’

He leans his elbows on his knees and looks straight ahead. We drift into silence.

‘I’m waiting for a call from my mom,’ I say eventually, feeling too tired to try and cover it all up with a fake smile and a lame story. ‘I got a weird message from her last night. I haven’t been able to get hold of her since.’

He glances up at me. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Nate.’

I’m about to make a light comment about how it isn’t so bad, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

‘Nathaniel Simpson?’ I look up as the nurse reappears and gestures for me to follow her.

‘Want me to hold your hand?’ Remy grins.

I give him a shove on the shoulder as I get to my feet. ‘I think I’ll be okay. You can go home, though,’ I add. ‘You don’t have to wait for me.’

He picks up his coffee and nods his head. ‘I’ll be here, Nate. Don’t worry about it.’

The nurse spent twenty minutes threading tiny stitches through the cut on the palm of my hand. The needle pierced both sides of flesh and weaved them back together, and it all felt so small and minor that I felt pathetic for wanting to cry out in pain.

As good as his word, Remy was still waiting on the plastic chair where I left him when I came out with my newly bandaged hand.

We climbed into his cab and he drove me back to the flat.

I tried to offer him some money, but he just said that I could buy him a pint next time we were both at the pub.

I said I’d buy him two, and an ice cream at the theatre. He laughed at that.

I’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely tormented for the past few hours.

When I got out of the hospital, I was convinced I’d have a message from Mom that had somehow gotten lost within the poor signal of the building.

But there was nothing there. It took all my strength not to lose my mind.

Annie hasn’t messaged me back either, but I can see that she’s read it.

I want to message her again, but I’m so exhausted from the past twelve hours that I feel like my brain isn’t working properly.

I can’t think of what I’d say, and we had such a great time on Saturday.

It was so fun and free, I don’t want to burden her with all of my bullshit. She was my escape from it all.

I heard Stevie get in about an hour ago and go straight to his bedroom.

Even though he’ll assume I was asleep, I thought he might come and wake me up to see if I’d heard anything.

I’m sort of glad he didn’t. I don’t think I could bear to tell him that not only had I not heard anything at all, but as time went on, I was rapidly losing faith that it would all be okay like I promised.

Because he was right – how would I know?

I roll onto my back and close my eyes. I force myself to focus on my breathing, the only thing I feel like I can control right now.

In, out, in, out, in, out, in—

I jump as my phone vibrates next to me and I finally see Mom’s name flash up on the screen.

‘Mom,’ I cry, pressing the phone to my ear. ‘Mom? Are you okay?’

As soon as I speak, Stevie comes crashing into my room, wide-eyed. He’d obviously heard my phone through our paper-thin walls. I switch the phone to loudspeaker. He glances at my hand in confusion and I shake my head, mouthing, ‘I’m fine.’

‘Oh!’ Mom’s voice spills through into our deathly silent room. ‘Hello, love!’

Stevie hovers at the doorway. My heart climbs into my throat. She sounds … okay. She sounds like Mom.

‘Are you okay?’ I say. ‘I got your message yesterday, but I was asleep. I’ve been trying to get hold of you and Dad all day.’

The phone makes a scuffling sound as Mom walks through the house. ‘Oh yes, I’m fine,’ she says. ‘How are you?’

I make the mistake of looking up at Stevie. He looks murderous.

‘Fine,’ I say carefully. ‘Mom, you texted me saying “help” yesterday. Are you all right?’

‘Did I?’ Mom says. ‘I don’t think I did.’

My heart sinks. She doesn’t remember.

Stevie storms out of the room, throwing his arms in the air. I wince as I hear his bedroom door slam.

‘Yeah,’ I say, leaning back onto my bed as a wave of exhaustion hits me. ‘You did.’

‘Oh,’ Mom says after a pause, and then she laughs lightly. ‘That must have been a mistake. How are you, sweetie? How’s Stevie?’

I place a hand over my face as a cold mixture of fear, relief and panic begins to take a hold of my body.

I inhale deeply. ‘How was your day?’