Page 12 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

James

The raw guitars of Rage Against the Machine have been filling my ears for more than an hour, and it feels as though my whole body is in flames. But it’s still not enough.

I’m standing at the gym, gripping the short bar that’s hooked to the top.

I hold my elbows close to my body and let my forearms ride up, then stretch them down, working my triceps over and over again.

Sweat drips from my brow onto my T-shirt and my muscles are shaking, but I don’t care.

I just keep going. Eventually, I’ll reach the point of total exhaustion, where there’ll be room for nothing in my head but a loud, meaningless roar, and all thoughts of Beaufort’s, Mum, and Ruby will be silenced.

Once I’ve done my arms set, I sit down on the seat and grab the chest press handles.

I push them forward slowly and as my arms move back, I feel the burn in my pecs.

I only realize that the door to the fitness room has opened when Lydia pops up in front of me, arms akimbo.

My sister is staring down at me, saying something, but with the din in my ears, I can’t hear her.

I don’t let her put me off, just keep on doing my reps.

Lydia leans down so that I have no choice but to look at her.

Her lips slowly form another word—and I don’t need to hear this one to understand it.

Idiot.

What have I done now? I’ve barely left the house since the funeral and I haven’t touched a drop of booze.

Which has been hard, especially in the moments when I can’t stop the dark thoughts.

But I stuck to it, partly for Lydia’s sake, after her trembling body at Mum’s funeral reminded me that my job as a brother is to be there for her.

So I’m not entirely sure why she’s currently standing red-faced in front of me, apparently giving me a torrent of abuse.

Although I have to admit that her open-mouth-close-mouth act looks kind of funny while the music thumps in my ears. It’s almost like she’s lip-synching.

Suddenly, Lydia steps closer and flicks out one of my earbuds. “James!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking the other one out too. The sudden quiet seems almost threatening. Lately, I’ve needed sound around me all the time, otherwise I start to think.

“I wanted to talk to you about Ruby.”

I take my hands off the grips and reach for my towel. I wipe it over my face and neck, where the sweat has pooled. I avoid looking at Lydia.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Cut it out, James.”

It feels like I’m wearing a tie that’s too tight, constricting my throat. I cough. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

Lydia looks at me, shaking her head. The corners of her lips are turned down and she’s crossed her arms over her chest. In this second, she reminds me so much of Mum that I have to turn away for a moment. I stare at the towel and wipe my hands on it, even though they’re long dry.

“I really wish I could help you. Both of you.”

I can only laugh bitterly at that. “There is no us , Lydia. And there never was. I fucked it up.”

“If you explain—” Lydia starts again, but I cut her off.

“She doesn’t want to hear my explanations. And I can’t exactly blame her for that.”

Lydia sighs. “I still think you have a chance. I wish you’d take it instead of holing yourself up here and wallowing in self-pity.”

I remember Ruby’s message:

I can’t.

Of course she can’t. I kissed another girl, and that’s unforgivable.

I’ve lost Ruby forever. And Lydia waltzing in here and trying to convince me of the opposite is the last straw.

I wanted to switch off and distract myself, but that’s not possible anymore.

Slowly but surely, the rage crawls back into my body.

Rage at Mum’s death, rage at my father, rage at myself—and the whole world.

“What’s it to you?” I ask. My fingers clutch at the towel.

“You both matter to me. I don’t like seeing either of you miserable, for fuck’s sake. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Ruby doesn’t want me back, and there’s no way I’m going to force it.

I don’t want you intruding on her either.

” I stand up, intending to head over to the two treadmills set up in front of a huge panoramic window that looks out onto our gardens.

But I don’t get far. Lydia pulls me back by the elbow. I spin around, glaring angrily at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s time you got your shit together,” she snarls. Then she jabs a finger into my chest. “You can’t push everyone and everything away forever.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“James…”

I try to summon up the mask of inapproachability that was always my second face at school and official meetings with my family. But this is Lydia in front of me. I’ve never had to hide anything from her and so I just can’t do it. Frustrated, I throw the towel down to one side.

“What do you want me to say, Lydia?” I ask feebly.

“That we’ll get through this together. You and me. Like always.” She swallows and touches me gently on the arm. “But if you can’t be honest with me, and keep hiding away like this, then that won’t work.”

I snort in disgust. “You’re acting like you always tell me everything, like you’re the open one out of the two of us.

I’ve always had to squeeze everything out of you.

I only found out about your affair with Sutton because you got caught.

” I push her hand away and stare coldly into her eyes.

“Just because Mum died, it doesn’t mean that it has to be us two against the world from now on.

Don’t make us into something we never were, Lydia. ”

She flinches and stumbles back. Without deigning to look at her again, I turn and shove my earbuds back in. If my sister says anything else, I don’t hear it. The loud guitar riff drowns out the ugly reality of my world.