Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
It takes a small miracle and a borderline intervention to get everyone here.
Especially Kym, who made practically every excuse under the sun.
But somehow—after an entire hour of negotiating, bribery, and Lilia threatening to show up at Kym’s house with a blow-up mattress and a megaphone—Kym finally caved.
She made it clear she wouldn’t be staying long, but that was enough. For now.
So here we are, crammed into Lilia’s room for an actual sleepover.
“Hold still,” Lilia mutters, thumb pressing against my chin to tilt my head while she smears something suspiciously green across my face.
Somehow, Lilia has convinced us all that facemasks are “essential bonding”.
“I am holding still,” I say, voice muffled because she’s practically got her palm on my mouth.
“Not still enough.”
From across the room, Bea groans. “You realize this is basically just expensive mud, right?”
“It’s not mud,” Lilia says without missing a beat. “It’s detoxifying clay.”
Bea raises an unimpressed brow. “So… expensive mud.”
Kym sits on the beanbag, mask already applied, arms folded tightly. She’s perfectly still, not a single muscle twitching.
“You look terrifying,” I tell her.
Lilia snorts, dragging the brush across my cheekbone. “She’s embracing the spirit. Meanwhile, you’re squirming like a toddler.”
“You’re smudging mud on my face, I think I—”
“Clay,” Lilia corrects again, her voice firm.
Bea leans back on her elbows, shaking her head. “I give it ten minutes before you regret this.”
“Done!” Lilia announces suddenly, tossing the brush into the tub with a flourish. She grabs me by the shoulders, turning my face toward the nearest lamp like she’s revealing a masterpiece. Her grin spreads wide. “Flawless, Adeline darling. Absolutely radiant.”
I blink at her through the thin film of green, feeling like a swamp creature dragged out of the river. “I look like Shrek.”
“Shrek was iconic,” she says matter-of-factly, patting my cheek.
Bea snorts. “Yeah. Green and terrifying. Nailed it.”
Kym doesn’t say a word. She just watches from the beanbag, arms crossed, mask cracking slightly at the corner of her mouth.
Lilia collapses onto the bed in a heap of blankets, dragging me with her. Somehow, Bea lets herself get pulled in next, laptop in hand, and Kym—after a long pause—sighs and climbs up too, perching stiffly on the edge until Lilia yanks her further in.
To my surprise, we all fit. Barely. It’s limbs tangled in blankets and the occasional elbow to the ribs, but we fit. Bea ends up in the middle; laptop balanced on her knees as she scrolls through Netflix.
“Absolutely not,” she mutters, flicking past a cheesy romcom. “I’d rather die.”
“Hey! I love romcoms!” Lilia argues, propping her chin on Bea’s shoulder.
“Not in my house,” Bea says firmly.
“This is my house,” Lilia fires back.
Bea doesn’t bother arguing—she just keeps scrolling, and Lilia, clearly offended, yanks the laptop straight out of her hands.
“Move,” she says, balancing it on her knees and flicking through titles. “We should do a Harry Potter marathon.”
I sit up a little. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Bea groans, but it’s half-hearted. “Fine. Whatever.”
From the corner, Kym clears her throat. “I’ve never watched it.”
The room goes dead silent.
Lilia freezes mid-scroll, eyes snapping to her. Bea’s head turns slowly to her, wide-eyed, and even I can feel my jaw drop a little.
“You’ve never—” Lilia starts, voice pitching higher than usual. “Not even one?”
Kym shakes her head once, perfectly calm. “Not even one.”
We all just stare at her.
“Okay,” Bea says finally, shutting the popcorn lid with a snap. “Forget everything else. This just became mandatory.”
Lilia looks almost manic with glee. “We are fixing you tonight.”
Kym blinks at the three of us, unmoved. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is,” Lilia says sweetly, already cueing up the first movie.
***
Morning comes, but it doesn’t feel like morning.
The curtains are drawn, the room smells faintly of popcorn and nail polish remover, and hardly anyone has slept. At some point during the night, Kym had surrendered and stayed, though now she probably regrets it.
The first thing I register is the sound of a phone buzzing against the wooden nightstand. The second is the fact that there’s a foot in my face. Lilia’s foot, to be precise. She’s star fished across the bed, snoring softly, one leg draped over Bea.
I shove at her ankle lightly, groaning, and blindly reach for the phone.
The name flashing on the screen makes me freeze. Naomi.
My stomach twists.
Why would she be calling?
For a second, I just stare at the name, my thumb hovering. Then, with a breath I don’t quite manage to steady, I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
On the other end, there’s only breathing.
“Naomi?” I whisper.
Her voice cracks through, shaky and frantic. “Addie?” Relief floods through her words, fast and jagged. “Oh, thank god.”
I sit up straighter, the duvet tangling around my legs. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mum.”
My pulse spikes. “What about Mum?”
Naomi’s breaths come quicker, sharper. “Just—just get here. Please. Now.”
“Naomi—”
“Addie, don’t argue. Just come. Please.”
The line goes dead before I can press her.
For a beat, the room is silent except for the soft hum of the laptop still open on Bea’s lap.
I shove the blankets off me and scramble to my feet, pulling on yesterday’s clothes with hands that won’t stay steady.
Movement catches my eye. Kym, propped up on one elbow in the beanbag nest, is watching me with that sharp, unreadable expression of hers.
“What happened?” she asks, voice low.
I tug my jumper over my head, trying not to fumble. “I have to get home. Something’s wrong.”
Kym pushes herself upright, legs folding beneath her. “And what—” she gestures toward the door, “—you’re planning to walk?”
I freeze halfway through tying my laces.
“Lilia’s parents aren’t here,” Kym continues, calm as ever. “So, unless you’ve suddenly developed a license and a car overnight, I don’t see how that’s going to work.”
I glance at Lilia and Bea. They haven’t slept a wink all night, and now they’re finally resting, I can’t bring myself to wake them up. Lilia especially—she has already done more than enough just by letting me stay here in the first place.
Kym must see the hesitation cross my face, because she sighs and says, “I’ll call someone.”
I just nod, standing there awkwardly while she pulls out her phone, taps a number, and holds it to her ear.
“Who are you—” I start, but she cuts me off without even glancing up.
“Sterling.”
She waits, listening, her eyes narrowing when the line stays silent. After a beat, she lowers the phone.
“He’s not answering.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “I’ll walk. Or run.”
Kym looks at me then, her brows pulling together slightly.
She doesn’t comment though, just presses another contact and lifts the phone back to her ear.
This time, it doesn’t even ring once before someone picks up.
Kym exhales. “Yeah, it’s me.”
There’s a pause, and then she makes a face like she’s already regretting this decision. “No, I don’t even—” She cuts herself off, squeezes her eyes shut, then forces her voice to calm. “I’m at Lilia’s. I presume you know the way?”
Another pause. Then she hangs up.
Her gaze flicks to me. “Will’s on his way. Twenty minutes.”
***
Exactly thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the backseat of Will’s Aston Martin. If it weren’t for the fact that my nerves are shot and my stomach is somewhere near my throat, I might have noticed sooner just how bad the tension is in here.
Will and Kym have been arguing for the past twenty minutes.
And I want to combust.
“So,” Will says suddenly, voice dripping with false lightness. “You finally called. What’s the matter, miss me?”
Kym lets out the kind of laugh that’s just air, no humour in it. “Yeah, like a rash.”
His grin flickers in the rearview mirror. “Good to know I still get under your skin.”
“You’ve always been good at that,” she mutters, arms folded so tight across her chest I’m surprised she can breathe.
I stare hard out the window, praying for literally anything to distract them. A bird. An alien abduction.
Will hums, like he’s satisfied with himself. “Could’ve fooled me, though. You sounded almost desperate on the phone.”
“You’re imagining things. Again.”
Will’s smirk deepens, just enough to make me want to crawl out the window. “You always were terrible at hiding things.”
Kym doesn’t even look at him. “Pathetic is you thinking anyone wants you here.”
The smile on his mouth doesn’t shift, but I catch the twitch in his knuckles against the wheel. “Still bitter,” he says lightly. “Cute.”
She finally turns her head, just enough that I can see the edge in her profile. “Still breathing. Unfortunately.”
I press my side of my forehead to the window, contemplating just opening this door and walking the rest of the way.
Will mutters, “Maybe you should just keep quiet.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed gone.”
Will’s smile doesn’t slip, but his grip tightens on the wheel, leather creaking under his hand.
I shut my eyes, wishing the road would swallow us whole.
God, I really should’ve walked.
***
The car hasn’t even come to a full stop before I shove the door open. My feet hit the pavement hard, and I’m sprinting before Will’s engine has finished rumbling down.
The keys slip in my hand twice before I get the lock to turn, and the moment the door gives, I’m inside, flying up the stairs two at a time.
I push the door open—and stop.
The room is a wreck. Clothes scattered like they were ripped from drawers, bottles tipped and leaking dark stains across the carpet. The curtains hang half torn from their rail, letting in too much light.
And on the floor—
Mum.
Her body is twisted, limp, hair matted against her cheek. Skin grey. Sam is crouched beside her, hands hovering uselessly above her shoulders. Her face is blotched red, eyes swollen.