Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mick
I place a bunch of flowers on the grave. Yellow. For sorry.
Birds chirp and flit between the branches of the nearby gum trees. Their excited warbling suggests renewal. Hope. It’s at odds with the tombstones that surround me. Davo’s plot is well cared for. No doubt Melissa visits it often. I haven’t returned since the day we laid him to rest.
Is it really rest if you’re snuffed out too soon? There’s certainly been no rest for his widow and son. Or me.
I shove my hands into my pockets. “I’m so sorry, mate.”
Davo sacrificed his life to protect the city. How do I make it right? I promised I had his back. Promised I’d watch out for his family. I failed on both counts.
“I might be more fucked up than I realised.” The words are lost to the chattering birds. But saying them out loud releases the knot strangling my internal organs. For seven years I’ve faked being okay. Acted like that night never happened. Turns out that pretending something isn’t real doesn’t erase the reality of its existence.
I extract the business card Jake gave me some time ago. He saw through my pretence. Hell, the entire station probably did. The only person being fooled was me. And Jules .
There’s no denying I need help. The question is whether it’s too late.
My mobile vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out.
Jake: Jules is awake.
That knot in my stomach eases a little more. Logic told me she’d be fine, but I feel better knowing for sure. Now all I have to do is explain why I’ve said nothing and hope she understands. And forgives me.
I tuck the phone and business card away and stare once again at Davo’s headstone. He was thirty-two. Too fucking young.
“Give me a sign you forgive me, mate.”
The marble remains motionless. There’s no forgiveness from the dead.
I crumple to the grass. I cried a lot after Davo died. Then I hit the booze. Snorted coke. That’s when I started pretending Davo’s death never occurred. I might have quit the alcohol and drugs, but I continued with the pretence.
The ink on my arm tingles. I rub the Aries symbol—Davo’s star sign—buried within the flames of the phoenix. A memory, as clear as the cotton wool clouds drifting through the sky, skips across my eyes. We were at the academy doing an extra one hundred push-ups, punishment for Davo flipping off the sergeant and me laughing. When we finished, we rolled onto our backs in a lather of sweat.
“Mick,” Davo whispers between laboured breaths. “I’m going to be a dad.”
I shake my head, uncertain if I’ve heard him right. “Melissa?”
He laughs. “Of course, Melissa. She’s my girl.”
Davo rubs the sword tattoo on his forearm. “I’m gonna get the baby’s name inked here. Ashley.”
A lump forms in my throat. “That’s my middle name. ”
“I know, ya idiot. We’re naming him, or her, after you.”
“Wow. It’s a huge honour. Thanks.”
Davo massages his arm again. “Whenever I feel a sensation here, good things happen. First was when I met you. You looked so nerdy in your dress pants, suit and tie. No way you’d have survived training if I hadn’t taken you under my wing.”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles and continues. “The second time was when I saw Melissa at a bar across town. My arm buzzed liked I’d stuck a finger in an electric socket. And … well, let me just say, I also had a very nice tingle happenin’ when Melissa conceived Ashley.”
I shove my hands over my ears. “Jesus, mate. Too much information.”
“You can take it.” He sobers and stares at the sky. White, fluffy clouds meander across it as if they have nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, and I guess they don’t.
Davo turns his head, his dark brown eyes so similar to mine, it’s freaky. “We’ve got each other’s backs, right?”
I flip to a standing position. He does the same. We link hands and I wallop him between the shoulder blades. “Always.”
I blink, and the crystal-clear vision of my best friend gives way to the empty, frosted mark of death. Pain slices through my heart with the precision of a surgeon’s blade.
Fuck, I miss him.
I don’t want to pretend anymore. Davo deserves to be remembered. I made a vow to take care of his family. One I’ve failed to uphold. Just like the vows I gave to my wife. It’s impossible to love and cherish Jules when I’ve hidden a critical part of who I am from her. A wounded, broken part that’s been infecting our relationship from the very beginning. Jake’s right. If I’m going to save my marriage, I need to purge the wound.