CHAPTER FIVE ~ GRAEME ~ FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
I’m going to miss Kingston.
I never thought I’d love a city as much as I love Edinburgh, but the Limestone City has earned a special place in my heart over the last few years.
Edinburgh and Kingston are quite similar in many ways: incredible architecture, a certain old-world charm, plenty of parks and gardens, and interesting history.
Plus, like Edinburgh, much of Kingston’s history is bloody, so the city is haunted as fuck.
In the years I’ve been here, there have been countless instances when I’ve felt invisible eyes watching me.
I’ve experienced the sensation of ghostly fingers touching me and causing tingles to race along my spine.
I’m also not a stranger to catching sight of something out of the corner of my eye, only to discover there’s nothing there.
My granny always maintained I had a touch of The Sight, while my parents chalked it up to an overactive imagination. I’m still undecided.
A flash of red catches my eye now. Instead of a ghostly figure, it’s one I’ve come to know well over the last three years: Abigail Morton.
My lips lift, and my heart knocks hard against my ribcage, the way it always does when I see Abby.
For the millionth time, I tell my traitorous body it shouldn’t react this way to my best friend.
Being placed firmly in the friend zone on the day we met hasn’t stopped me from falling in love with her, though.
It’s the best and worst feeling in the world.
Abby is standing in front of the display window of one of her favourite stores on Princess Street. She’s obsessed with all the independent shops downtown, and visits them often. She rarely buys anything for herself, but she loves to buy small surprises for the rest of us.
She looks beautiful, but then she always does.
Her caramel-coloured curls are pinned back in a loose up-do, and she’s wearing a black dress that ends mid-thigh, showing off her shapely legs, which are encased in sheer black tights.
The flash of red I saw comes from her signature rain jacket.
My mood sours slightly when I realize she’s likely heading off for a date with her boyfriend.
With a sigh, I coax my feet to move closer. I say her name, then say it again when she doesn’t react. Her brown eyes are red and puffy when she finally turns to face me, blinking several times to bring me into focus.
“Oh. Graeme. Hi.”
“Hiya, Spicy.” My nickname for her has evolved over the years; I still call her Pumpkin Spice, but ‘Spicy’ slipped out one day when I almost accidentally called her ‘sweetheart’.
Her lips lift automatically at the moniker, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
I’ve just opened my mouth to ask what’s wrong when her face crumples and tears flood her eyes.
Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close.
Her arms remain at her sides for a couple of beats before they circle me, her hands fisting in the back of my jacket.
We get a mix of curious, sympathetic, and wary looks as people walk past. Abby’s face is buried in my jacket, so she doesn’t notice. I tighten my hold on her and run a hand up and down her back in long, smooth strokes.
When she loosens her grip, I release her and dig around in my jacket pocket for a tissue. She accepts it with a rueful smile, then angles away from me as she mops up her tears.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask.
Her shuddering inhale makes me think she’s going to start crying again.
She swipes absently at her runny nose before meeting my eyes.
“Tripp and I had a date planned for tonight. He took me to that new place on Ontario Street.” She glances around, her brow crinkling in confusion as if she’s only just realized where she is.
I wait for her to continue.
“As soon as we sat down, he started acting all twitchy. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and he only grunted or gave one-word answers when I said anything.
When the waitress came to take our order, Tripp blurted out that he thought we should break up.
” She squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches her nose.
“The humiliation hit me before the shock did. The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.”
Abby’s full lips purse, and her eyes turn steely. “Long story short, the jackass said he kissed another girl at a party last weekend, and it made him realize he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.”
A wash of red coats my vision. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Right?” The word bursts out of her, startling us both. She claps a hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink.
With a sheepish half smile, she drops her hand, and words rush out of her.
“He said we only have a few weeks left of school, and he wants to have some fun before going out into the real world. Like...the guy has done nothing but have fun for the last four years. He’s partied more than he’s studied, and he has a ton of friends.
He dated a bunch of girls before me, which I know should have been a red flag, but he promised he was ready to get serious with me. ”
I know her well enough to know she’s not finished, so I remain silent as she catches her breath.
“Did you know we were talking about living together in Toronto?” she asks. “He was undecided about where he wanted to apply for jobs, but we talked about how easy it would be for him to find something there, and how much fun it’d be to live together and learn the city together.”
Abby truly is my closest friend, so I’ve heard a great deal about her relationship over the last six months.
More than I’d care to know at times. I’ve done my best to be happy for her, at least outwardly, but listening to her talk about Tripp and seeing them together has been painful.
Between Abby and Tripp, Brodie and Drew, and Fern and her new boyfriend, I’ve grown to feel like the odd man out, so I’ve been putting some distance between myself and The Crew recently.
I keep telling myself it’s good practice for when we all move away at the end of April.
A loud gurgling noise emanates from Abby’s direction. She makes a sound of dismay and hunches her shoulders while wrapping her arms around her middle.
I grip her shoulder. “You all right? Are you going to be sick?”
She lets out a hiccuping laugh and straightens, still clutching her stomach. The pink in her cheeks has deepened to a red that nearly matches her jacket. “No, it’s not that.” At my baffled expression, she sighs, then cringes when her stomach rumbles again. “I’m really hungry.”
A chuckle escapes me despite my best efforts to contain it.
“Don’t laugh!” She shoves my shoulder, but I don’t miss the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I hold up my hands in defence. “Sorry, sorry. It’s relief, I swear. I was having flashbacks to—”
“Don’t say it,” she pleads, slicing a hand through the air between us. “This night has been mortifying enough.”
I press my lips together and bob my head.
The year we met, Abby, Brodie, Drew, and I spent Christmas together.
Abby and Drew have no family, and Brodie didn’t want to be apart from Drew for a week or more to return to Scotland, so I decided to stay too.
The girls had complicated feelings about the holiday, so they planned to let it pass without much fanfare, especially after Fern left town for two weeks to spend Christmas with the woman she was seeing at the time.
Brodie and I had other ideas, though. Having grown up in a loving, tight-knit family that went all out for holidays, we were determined to give the girls the best Christmas ever.
We bought and decorated trees at both their place and mine, went ice skating, visited Christmas markets, and attended various events around the city.
On Christmas Eve, Brodie and I made a huge dinner, and we all had a bit too much spiked eggnog.
The others went to bed early, but I was wide awake, so I stretched out on the couch and watched the snow fall outside.
When I heard movement in the kitchen and went to investigate, I found Abby getting herself a glass of water.
As I moved closer, I could see how pale she was.
I was about to announce myself so I didn’t startle her when she spun around, murmured, “Oh, shit,” and vomited at my feet.
I rushed her to the bathroom and held her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach.
She begged me to leave, but I stayed, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing words, and then getting her a cool washcloth for her face.
She seemed to reach peak embarrassment when I stepped into the tub to wash my feet.
“Best of friends, remember?” I’d said. “Nothing bonds two people like a little vomit.”
She’d laughed and groaned simultaneously.
When she was certain she was finished being sick, I offered to get her back to bed, but she asked if we could sit in the living room for a while.
After cleaning the kitchen floor, I brought her a glass of ginger ale, and she surprised me by snuggling into my side.
“I haven’t had a proper Christmas since my grandma was alive.
” Her voice was rough and barely above a whisper.
“It’s not like Christmas in foster care was a scene from a Dickensian orphanage or anything, but the holidays always reminded me of all I’d lost and how alone I felt.
This last week with the three of you...” Her breath hitched, and she curled further into me.
“It’s been magical. But tonight, it all caught up to me, and I drank too much because I was feeling too much.
Is it possible to be overwhelmed in a good way? ”
“Aye, it is. I know just what you mean.” And I did because I was feeling it right then with her warm, soft body pressed against me.
I’m brought back to the present by the sound of Abby’s stomach grumbling again.