Phoebe
Two weeks later
S cratchy sheets, fluorescent lights and the incessantly beeping heart monitor wore down her patience. tried to focus on the officer’s questions instead of the itch of tightening stitches running from her wrist to her thumb. Two surgeries, neither she’d been aware of. Nerve damage and tissue trauma, all thanks to her instinctive urge to protect her face during the crash. She didn’t care about the pain—her surgeon’s advice this morning, “No painting for the foreseeable future,” hurt far more.
“Ms Fletcher, we’re sorry to make you go through this again, but we need your statement before we can close our case. Can you tell us one more time what you can remember?” the bearded officer asked.
It was disconcerting enough to be confined to a hospital room in a foreign country, let alone have two police officers standing over her asking questions about how her boyfriend nearly got her killed. After the question, the heart monitor beeped, making her feel like she was attached to a lie detector.
“We were fighting. Cillian started speeding,” explained, repeating the same story she’d told them when she first woke up a week ago. “I told him to slow down, and then nothing. My brother told me Cillian died on impact. The doctors and nurses told me I was lucky.” She choked on the last part. ‘Lucky, not dead’ was a low bar. The driver of the other car walked away with a few stitches, and a nice cheque from Anita to keep the victim away from the papers.
“Mr Hunt’s blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit. Were you aware that he was drunk before he got behind the wheel?” The officer’s thick accent reminded her how far from home she was.
August, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, was a small comfort, even if he didn’t look up from his book during the interview. He’d refused to leave, and the officers didn’t argue. Her brother had made him and Axel promise to stay with her. They’d become especially protective after the accident.
“He’d been drinking the night before. I didn’t know he’d been drinking that morning, otherwise I wouldn’t have let him drive. We were fighting, but him drinking that morning was the last thing on my mind. He has never…” She caught herself. She’d forgotten Cillian was in the past tense now. “He’d never drank and drove before.”
“We’re sorry to go over this again, but since the car was a rental, we have to file a separate report for insurance purposes,” the officer said, jotting down details on a notepad.
Anita will probably pay off the rental company too, she thought.
“You’re free to leave the country. Our investigation is closed.” The officer closed his pad, as though the worst moments of her life were nothing but a task to tick off.
“Can I have my belongings from the car? My bag, Cillian’s things? Do you have them?”
Nick had brought her suitcase from the hotel, but she needed to make sure she had her notebook. If someone found out what it contained, Cillian’s legacy would be ruined. Even with all the heartbreak he’d caused, she couldn’t do that to his memory. She needed her phone as well. She was sick of borrowing Nick’s.
“We collected everything for our investigation. What was recovered we gave to the nurse when we arrived. They’ll be returned once we’ve left.” The officer smiled, but his gaze reeked of pity.
“Thank you,” she said, rubbing her forehead as a headache crept in. It was time for her afternoon painkillers.
She hadn’t been the one driving, but she felt like this was all her fault. If she had stayed home, she wouldn’t have discovered Cillian’s cheating and they wouldn’t have ended up in that car. Axel and Nick had told her repeatedly that Cillian had chosen to drink and drive. Yet her grief settled between guilt and anger.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” the officer said. “As his next of kin, his fiancée, the body will be released to you.”
Fiancée . A wave of nausea caused her to swallow. The thought of being responsible for Cillian’s body made it all feel real. The hospital had put her in a cocoon, and with the others keeping her company every second, she hadn’t had time to stew in her own thoughts.
“His mum has made the funeral arrangements,” informed them. She wasn’t in any state to help with the funeral of the man who’d broken her heart, only to then shatter it by dying.
“We’ll leave you to rest.”
The officers left with a sympathetic nod. Moments later, a blonde nurse came in, holding a brown paper bag with an evidence seal.
“How are you doing? I’m sure you’re glad to be done with them. I’ve brought your things and some painkillers.” Seeing August, she blushed, and handed the bag.
“Thank you, my head was starting to pound.”
took the painkillers first, then broke the seal. Seeing her bag inside brought her some comfort, but the glimmer of her engagement ring in a clear evidence pouch stung. She guessed Cillian’s items were with Nick or Anita. She put the engagement ring in the pocket of her bag, not wanting to look at it.
Her cracked phone was long out of battery. She’d been using Nick’s phone to talk to their parents and keep them updated. She hadn’t found the strength to talk with Cillian’s family yet. Hearing his grieving mum’s voice was too much for her to contemplate.
frowned. Her notebook wasn’t there. The songs for the next album were in it. The last album she’d written with Cillian was gone.
The nurse watched her cautiously. “Are you alright? Is there something I can get for you?”
“There was a notebook. Did the police take anything from the car? It was a purple leather notebook with butterflies?”
“I’m sorry, this was all they gave us.” The nurse shook her head as she administered some antibiotics into ’s IV.
What if the guys asked about the album that Cillian promised them? The thought of telling them the truth made her heart ache. She forced a smile, not wanting August to worry.
“Let me get you some tea,” the nurse said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You look pale, and stress isn’t good for your recovery.”
“I’m fine, I just lost something that was important to us.” She tried to stifle her tears.
Us. There is no us, and never will be again.
“You’ve been through a lot. Why don’t we put these things away for now.” The nurse helped her put everything back in her bag, but held on to her phone.
“Do you have a charger?” she asked. “It’d be nice to use my own phone instead of using my brothers.”
The nurse smiled softly. “I can ask at the nurse’s station. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Thank you,” said, settling under her blanket. Nick had bought her a soft pink blanket, but the hospital got so hot in the evenings she only used it for comfort.
“I can get you a new notebook.” August suddenly got up from his chair.
Sometimes it was tricky to gauge his emotions, but she’d known him long enough to notice when he wouldn’t meet her eye. He wanted to talk but was overwhelmed.
“Do you want to talk before the others get back?” prompted.
She sensed he didn’t want to say it first. He was never a big talker; his music did most of his talking.
“You knew Cillian was cheating on me,” she said for him, and he dropped his head to study the grey floor.
He walked to her side and held her good hand, confirming what she already suspected.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
He’d never been able to lie, so she guessed that was why he chose silence.
“Because we love you,” he said gruffly, like it was obvious.
“Then why let me continue believing everything was alright?”
The betrayal cut her deep. Those she’d considered family had kept their mouths shut.
“Because we love him, and we couldn’t lose either of you.” August kept it simple, which was all she wanted. Cillian had put them in an impossible position, but she wished they’d told her and let her make her own decision.
“We hated him for hurting you, but he was ours,” August admitted. It was the closest she’d ever seen him to tears.
“In future, even if you’re scared that it’ll hurt me, please tell me the truth. Promise me.”
He nodded slowly.
“I found the charger.” The nurse interrupted them, and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Thank you.” took the charger.
“Purple or blue?” August asked, abruptly returning to his notebook-hunting mission.
The nurse looked at him, puzzled by his sudden question, before hurrying off to her next patient.
was about to say purple, but her last notebook had been purple. She didn’t want the reminder.
“Blue.”
August smiled as he left, happy to have a task. plugged in her phone, and the charge symbol brightened up. At least it wasn’t broken.
“Where’d you get a phone?” Axel barked.
startled, and the pain radiating up her arm nearly caused her to drop her phone. She looked up, and found him standing in the doorway.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “But you shouldn’t be looking at screens right now. Not until your headaches stop.”
“The doc said nothing about screens, and the nurse brought me a charger. She wouldn’t have if it was against doc’s orders.”
“I can’t leave you two alone without you bickering,” Nick said, appearing behind him with the burgers she’d requested. She couldn’t handle any more hospital food.
He exchanged a worried look with Axel.
“Where did you get a phone?” he repeated Axel’s question, while putting the greasy paper bags on her table tray.
“What are you hiding from me?” she asked. Nick sat beside her on the bed but didn’t do anything to take the phone from her. “Why do you care if I’ve got a phone?”
Given how the guys were staring at her, there had to be something. She scrolled through all the missed calls and condolence messages. It felt odd scrolling with the wrong hand.
“I’m able to handle it,” she lied, barely glancing at the messages she wasn’t ready to reply to.
She clicked into Artgram, and her newsfeeds revealed what they’d been trying to protect her from.
“Crazy girlfriend causes accident after breakup.” She read the headline numbly. Swiping up, she watched the footage of her trying to get into the concert.
“She’s seen it,” Anita sighed.
hadn’t even heard her come in as she scrolled through photos of the crash site. Seeing the crumbled car nearly made her sick. She couldn’t remember the accident, or leaving the car. Given the frightful images, she was glad for her memory-eating concussion.
“They want to sell stories, get likes,” Anita said, interrupting her thoughts. “They think Cillian was driving you back to your hotel after you refused to leave the stadium. With the footage of the security guards not letting you in, and witnesses at the stadium seeing the two of you fighting at the gate that morning, they’ve jumped to the conclusion that an argument caused Cillian to crash.”
“They aren’t wrong—we were arguing,” said, though it hadn’t been because she refused to leave him alone. It was her ending their relationship that caused him to lose control.
“Social media artist costs rockstar his life in fatal accident.” She read out another article. ‘Rising star in the art world, Fletcher, and her childhood sweetheart, Brothers of Anarchy’s Cillian Hunt, were involved in a fatal car accident following a sold-out concert in Munich. Sources close to B.O.A. revealed how the couple were fighting before the shocking crash that claimed twenty-six-year-old Hunt’s life. Was his failure to appear at Fletcher’s successful gallery exhibition the spark that burned down their relationship? Fans filmed Ms Fletcher being refused entrance into their Munich concert despite her own brother being in the band—”
“Stop!” Nick snatched the phone from her. With only one free hand she couldn’t fight him. “They’re parasites looking for a villain.”
“I’m the villain because I didn’t die,” she snapped, and the room went silent.
“Everything will settle in time, you just need to stay away from social media. Reading all that nonsense won’t help your recovery,” Anita reasoned. She was gripping the end of the bed so tight her knuckles were white. “I’ve released statements that the news being circulated is false, and that you were in a happy, committed relationship.”
“ I was in a happy, committed relationship. He wasn’t,” countered.
Anita glared at her. Now wasn’t the time for jokes, apparently.
“There were dozens of people who saw us arguing that night,” said. “You already paid off the victim, but Cillian’s blood alcohol level tells its own story. You can’t bribe everyone into silence.”
“Already done.” Anita shrugged, like it was nothing.
Nick sighed. None of them looked like they’d been getting any sleep.
“What about Helen? The make-up artist?” asked, and suddenly everyone found the floor or ceiling very interesting. “An affair with a dead rockstar would be worth its weight in gold in book and movie deals. Don’t act like you haven’t all thought about it.”
“Taken care of.” Anita crossed her arms.
had to admire her for being so thorough. No wonder Cillian was able to hide things for so long; he had someone in his corner cleaning up his messes.
“Great, so I’m to play the grieving fiancée?” asked, hating how easily everything was being swept under the rug.
How was she even meant to do that? God, she hated that she hated him. She hated that she loved him. Nothing felt right; she couldn’t just be the sobbing, tragic fiancée.
The others didn’t make any of this easier.
“You are a grieving fiancée,” Nick snapped. “Despite his mistakes you loved each other very much. This is just your anger talking. This is why we didn’t want you to see the news.”
“I’m angry with him regardless of what the gossip pages write. Why didn’t you want me to see the news, if everything is under control?”
“Because there is a small fraction who believe that you’re responsible. They’ve made threats.” Axel broke the hard news with ease, and she appreciated his honesty.
“That’s expected—you’ve all had your fair share of crazies. Why are you concerned?” pressed, not wanting an ounce of truth kept from her.
“ Death threats,” Anita revealed, typing away on her phone. Probably putting out another fire.
“We’ve had extra security posted outside the hospital, and you will fly back with us for your own protection until this all dies down,” Nick reassured her. “Mum and Dad are terrified by what they’ve seen on the news and online. They’ve made me swear to make sure nothing happens to you.”
“I think you’re overreacting to some keyboard warriors.” She wasn’t going to hide away because strangers who knew nothing about them had an opinion on how they should live their lives.
“We aren’t going to risk it,” Axel said, picking up August’s book and putting it on his lap as he sat down. “Like it or not, you’ll be seeing a lot more of us.”
“Won’t that just fan the flames? Surely we should put as much distance as we can between all of us,” she said, noting the dark circles under Axel’s eyes. They only made him appear more intimidating. Even though he’d slept in a cot by her side, she still knew so little about him.
“You’re my sister, it’s my job to protect you.” Nick’s tone told her his patience was wearing thin.
“We’re family, you belong with us,” August added firmly. Axel placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to put him at ease.
Axel had an easy bond with August, despite joining the band late. It had always been August and Axel, Cillian and Nick. felt a knot in her stomach as she realised how the dynamic of their lives would have to change.
“All we’re asking is that you lie low for a short while. It’s only for a news cycle or two, until the shock fades,” Anita said, her voice devoid of emotion.
grimaced at her insensitivity. “Cillian’s death isn’t a news cycle.”
“No one is saying that,” Nick interjected, “but we need to focus on keeping you safe, and that’s going to require some sacrifices on all our parts.”
looked at her hand. She’d already sacrificed enough. Glancing up at those around her bed, she saw their troubled eyes. How bad were the threats, to have them all so spooked?