Page 46

SYDNEY

After getting back from the hospital, I hide out in my room. I can’t deal with questions and the slew of emotions assaulting my already battered body and mind.

I shower, washing any trace of that awful hospital smell from my body, avoiding looking at my bruised face. It’s another reminder, like I need one, of what happened. Dressing in comfy pyjamas, I climb into bed, dragging the covers over my head and hoping to vanish like a magic trick.

The news of Pa’s arrest was a blow but not unexpected if I’m honest. Just another thing to pile on top of everything else. It’s too much. And I’ve not even tried to unpick what happened between Roman and I, what JC did to us.

Tears roll down my face as I remember the anguish on his face as he laid on top of me. I shake the memory away, squeezing my eyes closed. I don’t blame him. I told him it was okay. And it was—in a messed-up way. But he’s barely been able to look at me since, and the self-conscious part of me can’t help feeling like he can’t stand the sight of me.

You’re being ridiculous, Sydney.

I must fall asleep and wake sometime later sobbing. It takes me a few minutes to realise I’m safe and not back in that barn. Not covered in blood after stabbing a man, not looking at the beaten and bloody body of a young girl’s mother…

My door opens and Roman steps in, his eyes finding mine for a second in the semi-darkness that of the early evening.

“You okay? I heard you crying,” he says, stepping further into the room, and dropping his gaze.

“Just a dream.” I shuffle into a sitting position, swiping at my damp face, as he comes fully into the room. “Roman?—”

“No, let me talk, please.”

“Okay,” I say, patting the edge of the bed for him to come and sit, but although he draws closer, he remains standing.

“I understand if you bl?—”

I bolt from the bed and slap my hand over his mouth before he can stop me. “No, no. God, no.” I shake my head and implore him with my eyes. “I don’t blame you.” I swallow down my fear, my guilt and all the other thoughts racing through my mind to focus on just this moment. “I told you I love you, and I meant it. I didn’t know it till then, but I love you and Blake.” I slowly lower my hand from his mouth as his arm snakes around my back. And my body sighs in relief at his touch. It’s an innocent touch but means so much more.

“And we love you. But I’m scared.”

I’m shocked at his words. Roman Stone doesn’t strike me as someone who’s scared of anything. “Scared of what?” I whisper, watching vulnerability wash over his face.

“Scared you won’t…that when we’re together again, that’s all you’ll see.” His eyes close against the pain of that possibility.

I shake my head. “I won’t let that happen. I won’t let that man take anything else from me, from us.”

There’s a rap of knuckles on the door, and I look over Roman’s shoulder to see Blake there.

“Everything okay?” he asks cautiously and slowly stepping into the room, taking in our position.

I call him over, and when he reaches us, I reach a hand out, brushing across the many bruises on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is not on you, Syd.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.” I push the guilt back inside it’s box and kick it to the corner. “But I know it’s not. I’m just…” I don’t know what the word is, so I change the subject. “I’m okay. We’ll be okay.” I lower my head, but it’s lifted a couple of seconds later.

“Hey, together we’ll get through this. I love you, Syd,” Blake says, and I can’t hold back the tears now.

“I love you too,” I manage to choke out, then I’m swept up in two pairs of arms. Wrapped in warmth, safety and love.

One month later.

I unlock the door, tossing my keys on the side table and head toward the voices in the kitchen.

“Hey, I’m back,” I say as I enter the kitchen, pulling up short when I see two cops standing there with Roman and Blake. “Oh… Hi, sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s fine Miss Kincaid. It’s you we came to talk to. Shall we sit,” the woman says, gesturing for me to sit—in my own house, no less.

I remain standing, and getting the message, the policewoman continues, “Okay, well, we wanted to let you know that the charges against you have been dropped.”

And now I’m wishing I’d taken that seat. Roman and Blake both smother a laugh as I try to stay on my feet.

“I-I don’t understand. How…what…”

“The death of John Clark has been deemed self-defence. That’s all we know.”

I look to Ro because I just know his friend Roxy had something to do with this, but he just winks. My solicitor told me even with the claim of self-defence my case would likely involve a long trial given the ferocity of my attack on him and because he had his back to me. It’s a little difficult to claim self-defence when someone is facing away from you.

She places her mug down on the counter and steps toward me. “We just wanted to let you know. Now, we’ll be going.” As she draws level with me, she leans in and whispers, “No court in the land was going to charge you with manslaughter of that piece of shit,” She pulls back and nods. “Goodbye, Miss Kincaid, Mr Stone, Mr Cassidy. Have a good day.”

Her colleague nods as he passes, and I stand there shell-shocked until the door slams closed behind them.

“Oh my god!” My brain can’t comprehend what just happened. “You!” I say pointing at Ro. “This was you and Roxy wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, feigning surprise.

“Whatever!” I say, walking to the counter, resting my hands on the edge and hanging my head. My head snaps up a second later. “And Pa?” I ask, my gaze flicking back and forth between them, waiting for someone to answer me.

They both grin. “He’s at home. Suspended senten?—”

I don’t let Blake finish before I’m leaping at the pair of them. “Thank you! Thank you!” I yell as they hug me.

They lower me to floor, but I’m too excited to standstill and proceed to jump, dance and run around the kitchen.

“Hey, hey!” Ro calls, catching me around the waist as I fly past him. “How was the session?”

I spin in his arms, kissing him on the lips, then turning to do the same to Blake beside us. “It was good. Hannah’s doing great, considering.”

The first week after everything was like living in an alternate universe. I had moments of sadness, happiness, depression, guilt and shame, you name the emotion and I felt it at one point or another. When Ro suggested I see someone and maybe Hannah could come, I agreed. I wanted to help Hannah, and I knew if I didn’t talk about what happened, with someone outside my circle, things would only get worse.

Two days after Trisha’s funeral, Hannah and I went to meet Milly, a therapist Roxy recommended. And she’s been amazing. Not only has she helped me to deal with what happened but also with my feelings around my unusual relationship with Ro and Blake.

God still plays a part in my life, I don’t think that will ever change, but my decisions are my own and not made because of some unrealistic expectation or belief. I know our relationship isn’t for everyone, but it is for us. It works. And it seems we aren’t the only ones it works for either. I’ve spent many a night chatting to Roxy about her and Maddox and Zak.

“We are going to help Milly set up some extra sessions where we do Q&As. And Suzi is going to join us.”

“That’s great.” Ro says, looking at his watch.

“Keeping you from something important?” I tease.

“Actually, yes,” he says as he and Blake share a devilish look.

“What’s going on? I ask, stepping back to watch the pair of them. They’re up to something for sure.

“Well, we thought you’d like to go and see Kincaid,” Blake says, and it feels like there’s more, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Okay,” I say tentatively. “What else?”

Blake and Roman hook an arm under each of mine and head for the front door.

“The rest is a surprise, so you’ll have to wait till tonight,” Ro says cryptically.

THE END