Page 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BLAKE

I get in the car and close the door, then turn in my seat to check on Sydney.

“You okay?”

“Fine. He couldn’t wait until he got home?” she says sarcastically.

“His bladder isn’t what it used to be,” I reply with a laugh. My attempt at humour falls flat on its face. “He won’t be long, then we’ll get you home. How’s the head?”

“Throbbing.” She instinctively reaches up to rub the lump on her head.

I have something of my own that’s throbbing.

What does it say about me that I’m thinking about sex at a time like this?

“I’m not surprised. From what Ro said, you took quite a knock.” I’m still twisted in my seat, facing Syd, but she’s looking at her hands in her lap and twirling her thumbs over one another. “Is there someone else you need to call, family maybe, to let them know about your dad?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just us,” she says, raising her head and looking out of the window towards the hospital entrance.

“What about your mum?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing it, but these are usual questions to ask someone you don’t know and whose only parent is in the hospital.

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I start to think she isn’t going to answer.

“I never knew my mum,” she says, her voice sad and wistful. “Pa said she died when I was little.”

“I’m sorry.” I really do mean that. It’s not Syd’s fault her dad is a cunt! I’m curious about the woman who was unfortunate to shack up with Kincaid.

“It’s okay. You can’t miss what you never had, right?” She looks up at me with a small smile, then turns back to watching the hospital doors. “God, how long does it take to go to the toilet?” She claps a hand over her mouth, and her wide eyes meet mine.

“What?” I ask, not sure what has got her so afraid. Then I realise and can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t believe I used the Lord’s name in vain. It’s not funny, Blake,” she scolds.

“Come on, Syd. He’s not going to strike you down for saying his name. He’s not Voldemort.” That comment earns me a sharp glare. “You’re not seriously telling me you believe you’ll be damned for saying his name in the wrong context?”

“Not in this world, no. Judgement comes after death,” she says, and her tone implies she’s not happy having to defend her beliefs.

“Well, I guess judgement day is going to be fucked up for most of the world then, including me.” My words are harsh because the things I’ve witnessed, the things I’ve done, don’t lend much faith in there even being a god. I spin in my seat and face the windscreen, not wanting to talk anymore.

Syd’s thoughts are so loud, and I can feel her eyes pinned on the back of my neck. There was a time I prayed for God to save me, but I guess the pleas of a neglected and often beaten child aren’t all that important.

“Hey,” Syd says as she places a hand on my shoulder.

I shrug her off, ignoring the small stab of regret at my reaction. “It’s fine. Just forget it.” A couple of minutes pass in silence. Long enough for my pain and anger to push forward and propel me to swivel around and face her. “You know, Syd, the world isn’t as black and white as you seem to think. Sometimes good people are forced to do bad things just to survive. I wonder what your Lord Almighty thinks about that. Next time you’re on your knees praying, maybe you should ask him.”

The driver’s side door opens, and Ro drops into the seat beside me. Sensing the smothering tension in the car, he looks between the two of us before settling his gaze on me.

“What the hell is going on?” he barks.

“Nothing,” I snap back like a petulant child.

“Blake was just enlightening me on his thoughts about my beliefs,” Syd snaps from the back seat with a huff.

I roll my eyes before turning to meet Ro’s intense stare.

Syd continues unperturbed, “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the matter, Reverend Stone !”

“You really don’t want me to answer that,” Ro says, starting the car and quickly driving away.

“No, you’re right, I don’t. That would surely reveal you as the fraud you are,” Sydney says, her tone cutting.

Ro chuckles, deep and menacing, taking a corner at speed, and if I weren’t so irked by Syd and concerned about what caused Ro to be in such a foul mood, then I’d be leaning over the centre console and giving Ro some mind-blowing head.

A huff comes from the backseat, and I know Syd is protesting Ro’s driving. The closer we get to Syd’s house, the more anxious I become, tapping my foot in the footwell. Something is going on, and the sooner I can get Ro on his own to ask the better.

The second we pull up outside Syd’s, she’s tugging at the door handle to escape. Ro is right on her heels, marching after her as she heads for her front door.

I’m in no hurry because there’s not a fucking chance Ro is going to leave this—whatever it is! At a sloth-like pace, I get out and traipse up the path to Syd’s. I don’t hear any shouting—yet. My guess is that neither of them want the neighbours to see or hear what’s about to go down.

Stepping over the threshold, I close the door behind me. The click of the catch echoes in the silence, which is broken less than a second later.

“Who are you?” Syd asks as I step into the room, then she waves her hands and continues. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know, but I do want you to leave. I don’t want you here, and I certainly don’t need your help.”

“Anyone else have a sense of deja vu?” I mutter, striding to the sofa and sitting down.

A dual “Shut up!” is aimed my way from Ro and Syd, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll just sit here and let you two work it out.”

I grab the bible sitting on the coffee table and begin flicking through the pages while surreptitiously throwing glances in the direction of Ro, who is standing with his arms crossed and leaning against a large dresser.

Sydney blows out an exasperated breath, her head hung between her shoulders and hands resting on her hips. Raising her head, she pins Ro in her sights. “Thank you for bringing me home and helping to get my pa’s things, but I’ve got it from here.”

“What do you know about your mother?” Ro asks, blindsiding Syd and me.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Syd’s gaze swings to me, and she frowns. I don’t blame her seeing as I was asking questions about her mother in the car not thirty minutes ago.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she says defensively, and more than a little cautious.

“Answer the question, Sydney. I don’t have time for games,” Ro says, pushing off the wall and moving in her direction.

I close the bible and place it back on the coffee table as I get to my feet. I have a strong feeling I need to be ready to intervene. I watch Syd’s reaction, and her whole demeanour changes. Her bravery vanishes and is replaced with fear—no, not fear. Curiosity and something else. As Ro closes the space, I move in beside him—deja vu, like I said. My own anger at Syd still lingers but there are more pressing emotions circling right now.

“Ro, what’s going on?” I ask quietly and calmly. But Ro is not listening, I’m not sure he’s even still in the room. “Ro, Syd told me earlier that she doesn’t remember her mother.” That is not news to either of us. Despite extensive digging into Warren James’, a.k.a. Amos Kincaid, background, we weren’t able to find anything on the woman who gave birth to Sydney.

“Okay. How about your earliest memory?”

Sydney shakes her head, looking between the two of us. “I-I remember…”

“Come on, Sydney. You must have a significant memory as a child. What is it?”

My eyes catch Ro’s over Syd’s head, silently asking him what this is all about. His eyes are clear and alive with the same fury he had after his trip to the toilet at the hospital. He gives a small shake of his head, telling me to leave it alone.

“Why are there no pictures of you with your mum, or you as a baby in your father’s house? Come on, Syd. Answer the damn question!” Ro’s voice rises with the last part, causing Syd to jump in fear or surprise, or both. “It’s not that fucking hard. Do you even know who you are? Who your father is? Or your mother? Who is she, where is she?”

Ro throws question after question at her, his anger and frustration growing with every one. Syd’s shoulders slump, and each question hits like a punch to the stomach.

Tears well in her eyes, her chest heaves and her breathing becomes ragged as Ro fires another round of questions like arrows from a bow. “Do you fucking know anything?”

It’s the final strike, and Sydney crumbles like a house of cards under the weight.

“Stop! Stop! I don’t fucking know anything!” She screams, stumbling back in shock from the force of her words. A sob bursts from her, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to smother it.

Ro shoots forward and grabs her arms. His eyes scan every inch of her face, then he brings his face close, nose to nose. “No, you’re right. You don’t know anything. But know this, this delusional, God-fearing world full of love and happiness bubble you’ve been living in just fucking burst. You’re going to learn the real world is far from what you think.” Releasing her, and without another word or even a look in my direction, he stalks from the room. The front door slams, and a second later an engine revs before screeching away.

Sydney rushes past me, fleeing to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Leaving me in the middle of the living room with no damn clue what just happened and only the muffled backdrop of sobbing coming from Syd’s room.