CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WYNTER
A month passes.
I hear nothing from the police and nothing from Ray.
Nothing but silence.
I fill it the only way I can—nights out with Holly when she’s not working, cheap drinks, loud music, anything to drown out the thoughts that creep in the second I’m alone. The rest of the time, I’m stuck behind the counter of a rundown chip shop, earning just enough to cover rent.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not even tolerable.
But it’s something.
The hangovers are brutal now, way worse than they used to be. The nausea lingers all day, clinging to me like a second skin, and the smell of chip fat doesn’t help. It turns my stomach every time I breathe it in.
I press a hand to my abdomen, rubbing gently, trying to settle the uneasy twist there.
“Just get through the shift,” I murmur under my breath.
The bell above the door rings, and I straighten automatically.
Then freeze.
His voice hits me before I even see him. “I offer you steak and you want chips?” Ray asks, amusement lacing his tone.
My heart stutters.
“I like chips,” a woman replies, laughing.
It’s not even a thought as I duck down behind the counter, my pulse racing as I glance wildly around.
If I stand up now, it’s obvious.
So, instead, I crouch like an idiot and shuffle sideways, then drop to my hands and knees, crawling towards the back room.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror on the wall.
Pale. Tired. Eyes dull.
“Why me?” I whisper, looking up to the ceiling like it’s a pathway to God himself. “And why today?”
“Can we get some service?” Ray calls.
I flip a middle finger at the wall separating us then quickly fix my hair, smoothing down loose strands before forcing myself to stand.
You can do this.
I plaster on a smile and walk back out.
Ray’s eyes widen the second he sees me.
“Sorry,” I say brightly. “I was sweeping out the back. Rat droppings everywhere.” I laugh lightly.
“Oh,” the woman mutters, her face twisting in disgust.
“What can I get you?”
“I didn’t know you were working here,” Ray says, his voice lower now.
“We do a great deal on fish,” I reply, still smiling. I’m like a robot at this point. A walking, talking machine. “I can show you the menu?”
“I thought you went home.”
“Or there’s a couples special,” I continue, talking over him. “Double fish and chips for a tenner.”
Reg, my boss, appears behind me, back from wherever he disappears to half the day.
As he squeezes past, his hand drags over my arse.
I close my eyes briefly, swallowing the disgust. Reminding myself it’s just another day.
Just part of the job. The other girls laugh it off, make jokes behind his back, but secretly, we all hate him and wish he’d drop dead over the fryer, or in it, I’m not fussy.
Ray’s eyes linger where Reg’s hand is, the shift in him is instant as his entire body stiffens. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye as his jaw tightens.
“So,” I say, my smile stretching wider, almost painful, “what will it be?”
“Maybe we should skip lunch,” the woman says, glancing at Ray. “We can go collect Sebastian early instead.”
A real smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. Just hearing the little boy’s name makes my heart swell with joy. Fuck, I miss him.
I bite it back, resisting the urge to demand to know how he’s doing.
“We could tell him the good news,” she adds, almost giddy. “Then go out for dinner to celebrate.”
It slips out before I can stop it. “Good news?” Ray’s gaze snaps back to mine and I remember myself instantly. “Are you celebrating? We could do you a free cod on the house.”
Reg’s head snaps my way. He’d rather lose a limb than give anything away for free.
“He’s my son,” he says. “We had the DNA test back today.”
Everything inside me twists. My stomach churns violently. For a second, I let the intrusive thoughts win. ‘They lied to me. Used me. Framed me.’
“Reg, take over,” I mutter, my voice suddenly weak. “I don’t feel well.”
I rip off my apron before anyone can respond and push through the door, the air outside hitting me hard as I stumble onto the pavement.
I barely make it to the side of the building before I’m bent over, retching. My whole body shakes as I fight to keep upright.
Ray steps out of the shop, the bell jangling behind him. He says something low to the woman, pressing his car keys into her hand, and she nods, slipping into the driver’s seat without question.
He heads my way and I straighten up slightly.
“Stay back,” I blurt, lifting a hand between us. “I stink of chip fat and,” my voice wobbles and I try to cover it with a laugh, “I don’t feel great. Wouldn’t want to spray you in vomit again.” A broken sound slips out anyway.
His eyes soften for a fraction of a second. “How’ve you been?” he asks.
I nod too quickly. “Good . . . great . . . yeah . . . fantastic.” The words sound ridiculous even to me.
He doesn’t call me out on it. “The police haven’t called you?” he asks. I shake my head. “You should hear from them soon,” he says. “They’ve charged Luke.”
I inhale sharply, my brows furrowing.
“It was him,” he continues. “He gave Anika the overdose.”
My hand flies to my mouth, and a sob escapes before I can stop it. All those nights lying awake, all that fear, all of it . . .
“I can go home,” I whisper.
He nods. “You can go home.”
Relief hits, but it doesn’t feel like relief. Just . . . emptiness.
“Maybe sooner rather than later,” he adds, his gaze flicking back towards the shop. “Your boss was a little hands-on. You didn’t look comfortable.”
I shrug, forcing a small smile. “It pays the rent.”
The look on his face is pure anger, almost like he’s pissed that I’m stuck here or that I’m allowing it.
“Anyway,” I say lightly, because I can’t stand in this moment any longer, “I should get back. Good luck with . . . everything.”
My eyes drift to the car. To her. “She’s really pretty.”
He follows my gaze, then looks back at me.
“Have you met anyone?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard. I smile anyway.
“Yeah, well, sort of. I mean, I’m keeping my options open, you know.” My voice fades, my shoe scuffing against the pavement.
He watches me like he doesn’t believe a word.
“Before you leave,” he says after a moment, “there’s something Anika wanted you to have.” I exhale, fighting my tears. “Would you come by and collect it?” he adds. “Catherine would like to see you. I can stay out of the way if that makes it easier.”
“Yeah,” I nod quickly. “I can come by tomorrow. I want to get home as soon as I can. Aunt Lucy’s been leaving messages.”
“Why is she worried?”
I shrug. “I haven’t really spoken to her. I didn’t know what to say . . . with everything going on.”
“So, you said nothing?”
“I didn’t want to upset them,” I say quietly. “I thought I’d wait until it was all sorted.”
He nods slowly. His eyes flick back to the car again. “I should go,” he says. “We’re picking Sebastian up early.” My heart twists. “He’s coming to live with me. Full-time.”
I force a smile. “That’s great,” I say. “I’m really pleased for him . . . and for you.” I swallow hard. “You finally have your little family.”
Something shifts in his expression, but it leaves as quickly as it came. “See you tomorrow?” he asks.
I nod. “Maybe.”
He hesitates, like he wants to say more. Then he turns and walks away.
I watch him get into the car. Then I watch her lean towards him, saying something I can’t hear before he drives off.
Only when they’re gone do I let the smile drop. I pull my arms tighter around me, suddenly cold.
I won’t go when he’s there tomorrow. I’ll call Catherine and arrange it properly. Because standing here pretending I’m fine?
It’s already breaking me. I can’t do it again.
RAY
“I think she wanted you out of the way,” Catherine says, handing me a coffee.
“I’m sure she did,” I mutter, staring into the cup, “but I want to see her before she leaves.”
“Before she walks out of your life forever?” she asks quietly.
I don’t answer.
The buzzer sounds.
Catherine presses the release without another word, and we wait in silence as the lift climbs.
It dings and the doors slide open. Wynter steps out.
She sees me . . .
And the disappointment on her face hits me square in the heart. She doesn’t want me here.
Catherine moves first, wrapping her in a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she says warmly. Then she pulls back, holding Wynter at arm’s length. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, “you look terrible.”
Wynter shifts under the scrutiny, her eyes dropping to the floor.
Catherine’s right. She looks wrong. Thinner. And her skin is pale, almost grey, with dark shadows sitting heavy beneath her eyes. Even her hair, which is usually bright, looks dull.
“I’ve been working,” Wynter says lightly. “And partying a bit too hard.”
Catherine narrows her eyes. “Hmm. Go and sit down,” she says, nodding towards the couch. “I’ll bring coffee through. Ray, get the thing.”
Wynter obeys, moving slowly, like each step is painful.
“She looks different,” Catherine says once she’s out of ear shot, still watching her. “I can’t quite place it, but there’s something . . .”
“After today, it doesn’t matter,” I cut in, even though it clearly does.
I head to my room and return with the jewellery box. I place it on the table in front of Wynter and her eyes widen immediately. “She said you loved it,” I tell her.
Wynter nods, reaching out, her fingers tracing the delicate Italian detailing on the lid. “She told me you bought her this,” she murmurs. “I can’t take it.”
“I’ve no use for it,” I say. “She can’t take it with her. She wanted you to have it.”
A tear slips down Wynter’s cheek and she quickly brushes it away. “She said you got it because she never had one as a child,” she whispers. “It was something she always wanted.”
I nod, a small smile tugging at my mouth despite everything. “It had to be a musical one,” I say. “She wouldn’t settle for anything else.”
Wynter lets out a soft, shaky breath. “Are you sure?”