Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
ELIJAH
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
O ne look at Pen, and I know it’s not good news.
“Where the hell have you been?” I snap.
I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve been worried. Pen has been gone a week. Disappeared, no note, no nothing. Even her mum couldn’t tell me where she was, only that she needed time away.
Her computer was missing, and she had vanished.
“Good to see you too,” she says, slumping down on the sofa opposite me.
“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?”
I find my chest tightening as I stare at her.
Something is off. She still has her gothic makeup and her black clothes, but I’m sensing something—I just can’t place it.
When she shrugs, my temper rises.
“Pen, you missed the meeting with our backers.”
She breaks eye contact, and I stop, my heart rate picking up. Pen’s gaze won’t meet mine, and my stomach sinks.
“About that.”
“Pen, what the hell is going on?”
There’s a long pause.
“Whatever it is,” I say. “We can work it out.”
Although the sinking feeling in my chest tells me maybe we can’t. Things have been a little awkward since I told Pen Darra was pregnant. A wall of silence hit me that day, too.
“I can’t do this,” she says eventually.
“What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
She looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. The pain in their depths steals my breath. I go to open my mouth but stop at the look passing over her face. One I don’t recognise.
“I can’t go into business with you.”
I drop back on the sofa and stare at her.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “Exactly what I just said. I’m not going into business with you. I can’t.”
I sit forward, my forearms resting on my thighs.
“Can’t or won’t?”
She sighs, a sound I rarely hear from Pen.
“It’s not what I want. Frazer Dawson Cyber Security is your dream, not mine. I want to create and design computer games.”
“I don’t understand. You designed the initial software.” I try hard to understand what the hell I’m hearing. “Cyber tech is your baby. The software you’ve designed is off the scale in terms of what it can do. We’re set to make a fortune. Even the backers I met with yesterday said as much.”
She shrugs again.
“This is not about money,” she says, although her voice is flat.
“Then what the hell is it about?” I say, my voice beginning to rise. What the hell is wrong with her? This is not Pen, or at least not the Pen I know and l….
Fuck, I can’t let my mind go there.
“Look. I’ve done a lot of thinking. This will not work. Us working together. You need to focus on Darra and the baby ? —”
“Is that what this is about? Because?”
“No, yes, partly.” She sighs. “This is also about me. I’ve realised this isn’t my dream. I don’t want to lose myself.”
I shake my head. I sense there’s more to it. Maybe it’s unfair to push. It’s my fault, after all. If I wasn’t marrying Darra, having a child with her… but I can’t lose Pen, not now.
“Pen—”
“No Elijah. The software, the business plan, it’s yours.”
“But.”
“I applied for a scholarship and got it. I’m going to follow my dreams of creating computer games.”
“Where?”
I know this has always been her dream. It came up one night, but I thought she’d put it to one side, was going to do it as a side project.
“The Frazer Foundation,” she says, her gaze now planted on the floor in front of her.
My heart sinks.
Not Pen.
“Is that what all this was about?”
Her eyes rise and clash with mine. A flash of fire and anger burst out. There she is, the Pen I recognise.
“Is that what you think? I’ve done all this just to get a foot in the door with your parents?”
“What else should I think?”
“Well, piss off, Elijah. Have you forgotten your parents have only just set up the foundation? I’ve been your friend for four years.”
She gets up and storms towards the door.
“Pen.” I watch her hand grasp the handle as she pauses. Her chin drops to her chest.
“I have to do this,” she says quietly. “I’ll help with the code if you need me, but Todd and Theo, they know what they’re doing. I’d recommend approaching one or both of them to work with you.”
“I don’t want Todd and Theo. We’re a team, you and me,” I hear myself say.
She’s been my rock, pushed me to be better, made me more. She’s been the light in my fucked up world over the past few months, ever since Darra told me, ever since I broke my ankle.
She turns, her expression hollow.
“You need to let me go,” she says quietly before turning and leaving the room.
“But what if I can’t?” I tell the space she’s vacated.