Phoebe
A fter ten days stuck at home with no company and nothing to paint, realised how quiet her apartment was. Usually, she’d be too busy painting to notice the silence, and she was so used to Cillian coming and going at all hours—before he started touring, anyway—that she couldn’t help waiting for him to walk through the door. Nick had tried to get her to stay with them, but after being trapped in the hospital where her every movement was watched, she wanted to be in her bed and have her own shower. Midway through her second bowl of cereal for the day, she contemplated if she’d made the right decision. The hospital had refused to give her any more of the ‘good’ painkillers, so she’d been numbing herself with hours of trashy soap operas and takeout. She was starting to leave an impression of her body on the couch cushions. Eat, sleep, ice her wrist, do her physio, rest, shower, eat, sleep—taking care of herself had become a full-time job.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table and she leapt to answer, hoping it was Lena with news about her next show. Even if she couldn’t paint right now, she had enough work in her studio for at least her next two scheduled shows. The collections would be smaller, but even the chance to be around paint again felt like breathing fresh air after choking.
It wasn’t Lena.
“Oh, my girl, Nick told us about what happened at the airport, but we’ve just seen the video on the Facebook,” her mum rattled off quickly, and she regretted answering. “I’m glad Axel gave security a good earful, I always thought he was a good egg, pardon the pun. How are you coping?”
“I’m fine, please don’t watch that stuff. It was only a few eggs, nothing a shower couldn’t fix. Since I can’t paint, I’ve been sleeping mostly. The pain in my hand and the physio exercises have me worn out, so I don’t have time to worry about what people think of me online.” She thought talking about being tired might get her mum off the phone faster.
Lena had called when she first got home and warned her to stay away from social media, so she hadn’t known the footage of her being egged outside Dublin Airport had gone viral. The message online was clear: she was the reason that Cillian Hunt was dead. Thankfully, she was too tired to feel any rage, grief, or the injustice of it all.
“You’re right to focus all your energy on healing and getting back to your art. Be sure to get some rest and get out for some air. We wanted to come and visit you and your brother, but it’s all been a terrible shock to your dad’s heart. I do feel terrible, but I don’t think we’ll make it to the funeral.”
Her parents had had and her brother later in life; the generational gap meant they liked to sweep it under the rug rather than face hard emotions.
“Are you sure? His mum will miss you,” she said, surprised they weren’t going to attend considering Cillian had been a part of all their lives for so many years.
“We’ve called Maureen to let her know and sent some flowers. We’ll come up once everything has settled. It’s been hard for us, given all the media attention. So many loved him, I doubt our absence will even be noticed.”
didn’t argue; she wasn’t going to force them to attend.
“To think we were only planning your wedding, and now a funeral. It’s heart-breaking and you don’t deserve half of what they are saying about—” Her mum cut herself off.
“What aren’t you telling me? Have the press been contacting you?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. The dog shelter got a few calls, but it was just the pushy press being nosy and some upset fans. A stern warning, and they haven’t called back,” Mum said in a dismissive flurry.
sat up abruptly, knocking her pillow off the couch. She’d seen the online vigils for Cillian, seen the comments and shares from celebrities and fans mourning another great artist gone too soon, despite barely knowing him. The grief and outcry was expected, but she was not prepared for her parents to be targeted by aggrieved fans. It was a mercy that news of his cheating hadn’t been leaked and that his ‘girlfriend’ had kept quiet.
If her parents weren’t going to the funeral, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about them finding out the truth.
She hadn’t told them about the accident in detail. They thought she’d only had some stitches and a concussion. They’d never believe in a million years that their golden boy future son-in-law would drink and drive. Why tell them and ruin their memory of him?
“I’m so sorry, I never expected you to be targeted.” struggled to mask her upset.
“I don’t want to hear you blaming yourself. You loved each other dearly and this was a tragedy,” Mum said softly.
“Please tell me or Nick if you get any more calls or letters.” started pacing, needing to use up her adrenaline. She wished she had never got on that plane, never got in that car with him.
“Don’t worry about us, we’re able to handle ourselves. Anyway, we’ve closed the shelter for a few days. We’re long overdue a holiday, and we have someone watching the dogs. Once the funeral is over, I’m sure things will settle down and you can all be left in peace.”
Glancing around her small apartment, thought a little less peace might be nice.
“Make sure you and your brother look after each other. Family comes first, and we’re here if you need us. Come home any time. Even if we can’t be with you in person, you always have us in your corner.”
“Love you, Mum. Make sure Dad stays away from the news.”
hoped they wouldn’t receive any more harassment. Her dad had already suffered two heart attacks in the last five years, and she didn’t want all the hate online to increase his stress.
“I’ll do my best, but you know how he worries,” Mum said. “I’ll let you get some rest, and make sure to keep up with the physio. I’m sure you’ll be back painting in no time.”
wished she had her mother’s unwavering optimism as she stared at her scarred hand.
After hanging up, curiosity got the better of her and she looked up the video on her laptop. On the screen, ’s lavender hair stood out amongst the crowd of fans—the band’s fans; they certainly weren’t hers. She cringed as she watched herself turn when her name was shouted, the carton exploded as it hit Axel walking behind her. He got the worst of it since the carton rebounded off him and splattered on her. He’d been kind enough to help her wipe the egg out of her hair. The bands’ security quickly blocked the bystander’s camera. The last thing they caught was Axel arguing with one of the security guards, while the rest of the band bundled into the waiting cars.
Keys turned in the door, and closed her laptop. She half expected Cillian to walk in with pink roses, her favourite, as he did when he came home from every tour. She felt a rush of overwhelming sadness as she remembered he wouldn’t be walking through the door again.
“I’ve got your groceries, and I’m never picking up your birth control again,” Nick said, removing his baseball cap. “I’m your older brother, and I’ll take a bullet for you, but never again.”
chuckled, delighted by his embarrassment. “You insisted on helping—and speaking of discomfort, you’ve been ignoring Mum’s calls?”
“With cancelling the rest of the tour and speculation about the next album, I haven’t had a chance to call her back.” Grimacing, Nick put the groceries down on the kitchen table behind her sofa.
“She sends her love,” said, putting her laptop on the table. “Did you know they were being harassed?”
Nick hesitated, scratching the back of his head. “Anita told me Mum called her about the threats. They’ve filed a report with the police just in case.”
He’d already dealt with it. Of course their parents went to him first. He was the eldest, if only by two years.
“I thought we agreed no more secrets?” She raised her eyebrows as he unpacked her groceries.
“Sorry, last time,” Nick promised, tossing over her favourite salt and vinegar crisps. She was getting better at catching things with one hand. “Thank you for covering for me with Mum. Speaking of avoiding people, I couldn’t take being at home a moment longer.” He reached into her fridge for an energy drink, a habit they both shared. “Axel is locked up in his basement. I think his drumsticks have become surgically attached to his hands. August is wandering around the place like a lost puppy, and Bart won’t leave Cillian’s bedroom door. No one is used to being this idle, and I’m beginning to agree with Anita about pushing ahead with the next album.”
“Without Cillian?” she asked, realising that only two of the four OG members remained.
“I don’t want to do it without him, but none of us want to disband. Moving forward might be the best way to heal,” he said, sounding unsure.
She wondered how long it would be before he discovered there were no songs for the next album. She swallowed her secret, feeling like a hypocrite. They’d promised to stop keeping secrets.
“Don’t rush into anything,” she said. “Maybe wait until after the funeral before making a decision.”
“You’re right—the others think the same. I think I just want the distraction. Anyway, Cill’s mum wants me to pick out something for him to be buried in. I can’t even open the door to his room, never mind go through his things to look for the songs he was working on.”
“I’m sorry, I wish I could do something to help.”
doubted he was sleeping, given how he chugged the energy drink.
“I hate to ask this, given how everything happened. Did Cill ever mention what he wanted in case he…” Nick drifted off, collapsing beside her on the couch.
swallowed the golf ball in her throat. “We were too focused on building our future. You know him, he never liked to think anything could go wrong.”
Nick scrubbed his forehead as a silence filled the space between them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His apology tumbled out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cillian’s cheating. I never wanted you to find out like that.”
She cradled a pillow to her chest. “Let’s not.” She didn’t have the energy for this conversation.
“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Nick said, staring at his hands. “I should’ve gone after you that night and made sure you got back to the hotel. I didn’t think you’d want me to get involved. I thought Axel would be the best person to help you out, and they would’ve killed each other if I left them alone. I didn’t expect Cillian to keep drinking.”
“I accept your apology, but you couldn’t have known what would happen. We all agreed you’d never have to pick sides, to ensure our relationship wouldn’t get in the way of the band’s future. What happened wasn’t anyone’s fault.” She patted his shoulder, and he finally looked at her. She hated seeing him so torn up. “You were trying to protect me, and even if you’d told me, I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. Maybe I would’ve forgiven him or given him another chance. There’s no point in focusing on what could’ve been. Besides, I’m glad you sent Axel after me. Otherwise, I would’ve made an arse of myself in front of the press. Even if I hadn’t been there that morning, Cillian could’ve still driven the car.”
“I hate that Cillian put me in a position where I had to lie to you. I swear that he promised he was going to end it with her and tell you.” Nick dragged his hands through his fire-engine red hair, and she was amazed it didn’t get tangled in his rings.
“I believe you.”
“I’m sorry Cillian accused you of…” Nick couldn’t finish. She guessed Axel had told him what happened on the bus.
“Nothing happened between Axel and me.”
“I just want to know if there is anything about that night that I haven’t been told. With all the press, I want to make sure there aren’t any more surprises before the funeral.” Nick downed the rest of his can.
“Nothing happened,” she assured him, sure that the notebook with the songs she’d written had been destroyed in the accident. “I fell asleep, and Axel slept on the pull-out bed. Cillian saw us talking and made some drunken assumptions. He wouldn’t let me leave unless I got in his car. He told me that you’d sent him to bring me home.”
Nick clenched his jaw, angry that Cillian used him as an excuse that nearly cost her life.
“You know what happened next.”
She left out that they’d argued about the music they’d written together. With the notebook lost and presumably destroyed in the crash, there was nothing to tell.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up again,” he said, and she shrugged it off.
“I suspect Anita wanted you to double check?” she asked, knowing their manager had been putting out fires left right and centre since that night.
“None of us can handle any more surprises,” he confessed.
“What’s done is done, let’s just focus on the future.”
let out a long sigh. She put her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Next person you date, please don’t pick my best friend,” he quipped, breaking the tension.
“You don’t have to worry about that! I don’t plan on dating for a long time.”
“How are you really?” he asked.
“About as good as you,” she said, staring at her hand.
“Have you thought any more about coming to stay at the house? We’ve got plenty of rooms, and it’s not good to be here alone.”
“We talked about this,” she groaned.
“You talked, and I listened, but I’d feel a lot better if you’d stay with us.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. She was lonely—not that she’d admit it—but there were so many memories of Cillian in that house. She didn’t want to be constantly reminded of the man she missed as much as she despised.
“Fine, I tried.” He raised his hands in defeat, and started for the door. “Call if you need anything, and don’t go out alone unless it’s for physio. I mean it! Otherwise, I want you to have some security with you.”
rolled her eyes. “I don’t need security, and I’m not in the mood to go out anyway.”
Hopefully, after the funeral everyone would forget about her.
“Call Mum back!” she called from the couch as he opened the door.
He smirked. “The first chance I get.”
She knew that meant never.