Chapter 16
Blake
I’m still grinning three days after my night with Juliet.
This woman has single-handedly taken my dark existence and given me hope that maybe my life isn’t as bleak and predetermined as I thought it was.
She makes me believe that maybe the quiet punishment I’ve been carrying all these years was never a life sentence, and despite me thinking I don’t deserve happiness after what I did, something good has found me anyway.
I’m not delusional. Being with Juliet doesn’t mean being with just her. She and Tinsley are a package deal. I’m desperate to hold on to this—to hold on to her—and prove I can be the man she and Tinsley need.
Lying to my housemate isn’t ideal, especially when he’s so determined to find out who the friend is that has me in such a good mood.
It doesn’t help that I’m constantly checking my phone from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed, my heart skipping a beat every time I see ‘Pixie’ on my screen.
I’m glad we had the foresight to use our nicknames for each other—I’ve left my phone unattended once or twice, and he’s been trying to figure out who this mysterious pixie is.
I half-expected Juliet to pull away after my sleepover, but we’ve been messaging non-stop, trying to outdo one another with random questions to learn more about each other.
With Everett out of the house, I’m enjoying a peaceful Saturday afternoon lying on the couch, watching the EPL highlights and texting Juliet.
Blake: If you could play a character in any television show, who would it be?
Pixie: Easy. Sandrina from Chain of Bones. Fern Davis is an incredible actress.
Blake: She is. Great choice. I love that show.
Pixie: Same! What season are you on?
Blake: I’m a late-comer. I’m only on season 3. My sister, Tori, got me hooked when I was visiting her over Christmas.
Pixie: Is she your older or younger sister?
Blake: She’s 4 years older.
Pixie: Are you close?
Blake: Not as close as we used to be.
Pixie: I’m sorry.
Blake: Do you have any siblings?
Pixie: Nope. Only child.
Blake: That explains so much.
Pixie: Hey!
Blake: Kidding, pixie.
Pixie: Okay, next question. If you had to communicate your feelings right now through one song, what would it be?
I hesitate for a moment, wondering how deep to go. There are so many songs I could choose, but I decide to go with my gut.
Blake: Too much to ask by gavn!
Pixie: Never heard it… but playing it now.
My chest constricts, and I draw in a sharp breath, trying to stave off the panic building inside—the lyrics are dangerously close to giving too many hints of my past. I scramble to think of a meaningless question to move back into our fun and flirty banter.
Blake: What’s a flavour of chocolate that should never have been invented?
Pixie: Vegemite chocolate, but don’t distract me. Blake, this song is amazing. I think it’s my new favourite.
Blake: Hold up, Vegemite chocolate? You’re shitting me. There’s no way that was ever a real flavour
Pixie: It was a limited edition, and it was disgusting!
Blake: I don’t believe you.
Pixie:
Pixie: Told you. Worst experience with food in my life… and I love Vegemite. But Vegemite and chocolate are a definite no-go.
I snort a laugh, shaking my head. Vegemite chocolate. Ew.
Pixie: You’re having a dinner party, and you have to invite three people… one dead, one fictional, and one of your idols. Who are you inviting?
Blake: Ooh, good one. Does my idol have to be alive or dead?
Pixie: Doesn’t matter.
Blake: Okay. Jim Morrison, Rambo, and Lionel Messi.
Pixie: I didn’t pick you as a fan of The Doors.
Blake: I don’t know why, but he just really interests me.
Blake: If you found out our life was a simulation, would you continue or end it?
Pixie: …
I watch the three dots bounce on the screen, then disappear. They reappear, only to disappear again.
Pixie: Does that mean everything that led us to this point was a simulation as well?
I consider her question. If everything I’ve been through until now was a simulation, I would’ve checked out years ago. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have moved to Beckford, and I wouldn’t have met her.
Blake: It was, but you didn’t find out it was a simulation until now. What would you do?
Pixie: I’d continue.
That pesky spark of hope blooms in my chest again.
I know whatever happened between her and Everett’s dad must have ended badly for her to have full custody of Tinsley, and him to have supervised visits, but I never asked because Everett never seemed to want to talk about it.
But to know she would still go through it for me makes me feel like maybe this isn’t completely one-sided.
Blake: I would, too.
A knock on the door steals my attention, and I frown as I get up to answer it. Emily knows Everett won’t be home until later, and I spoke to Zac earlier. It’s his sister’s birthday, so he and Noah were taking her to play mini-golf.
My eyes widen when I open the door. “Tori? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I check over my sister’s shoulder, looking for her husband. “Where’s Sam?”
“Hi to you, too,” she says, stepping into my arms for a hug.
I give her a quick squeeze, then step back to let her into the house.
She follows me into the living room, her eyes drifting around as she takes in the space, polite curiosity stretched over her discomfort.
It kills me that there’s this distance between us.
I know it’s my fault—I made things hard on her when we were both growing up.
After what happened with our parents, she could’ve let me go into care. At almost nineteen, she would’ve been well within her rights to, but she didn’t. She was there for me, and I threw it all in her face. I’m not proud of the person I used to be. Far from it.
I was on a fast track to destruction. Hanging around with the wrong people, getting into fights, drinking and taking drugs. Until I hit rock bottom and got slapped across the face with a wake-up call.
“Nice place,” she says, filling the awkward silence and pulling me from my memories.
“Yeah,” I say when my brain offers nothing better.
She hovers in front of the couch, her overnight bag still slung over her shoulder like she’s ready to bolt.
“Uh, have a seat.” I wave my hand for her to sit down as I drop onto the other couch.
Tori hesitates for a moment before following suit, relaxing into the worn leather as my phone vibrates from where I left it on the coffee table.
Not wanting Juliet to think I’m ghosting her, I pick it up and quickly tap out a message, telling her my sister is here.
As I’m typing, Tori eyes it warily.
“So, your phone does work.”
I grimace, slipping it into my pocket. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Me, too.”
I don’t even know why I’ve been avoiding her calls for the last couple of months, but the guilt rolls in thick and hard now.
“How did you know I didn’t have an away game?”
“I checked the university webpage.”
I huff a laugh. Of course she did. Tori’s always been resourceful.
She bites her lip, her blue eyes fixing on me for the first time since she arrived. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d answered your phone.”
My stomach drops. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been—”
I cut myself off, realising how much of a dick I was about to sound. Was I seriously about to say that I’ve been too busy for my only living relative? What the fuck is wrong with me.
Slumping back into the couch, I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Tori.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry, too, Blake. This isn’t just on you. Things have been getting worse between us, and I haven’t done anything to stop it.”
I meet her gaze. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Mostly.” She casts another look around my living space. “But I also wanted to see your life here. You never really say much when you come to visit, and while I can see you’ve changed, I’m also worried about you.”
The tightening in my chest becomes almost unbearable. “You don’t need to worry about me anymore, Tori. I don’t plan on falling back into that black hole anytime soon.”
Tears shine in her eyes. “I’ll never not worry about you. You’re my brother.”
I study her, unease settling deep in my gut. “Is something else going on? Did something happen between you and Sam?”
It’s no secret I don’t like her husband. We’ve come to blows a lot since they got together six years ago, and I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine on their wedding day.
A shudder rolls through me at the memory of the tears streaking down Tori’s face when her new husband and his best man ejected me from the reception and told me to get my act together before I lost my sister for good.
I followed it up with a four-day bender of drugs, alcohol, and women, and Tori postponed their honeymoon because she wouldn’t leave until they found me.
Sam dragged me out of the seedy drug den days later and gave me an ultimatum: go to rehab or never see your sister again.
I accepted. I’d have been stupid not to.
Two days later, they left for their honeymoon, and I spent the next four months detoxing and undertaking individual counselling and group therapy sessions.
As much as I hate the guy, he saved my life, but my relationship with my sister has never really recovered.
I don’t blame her. I’ve ruined her life in more ways than one.
“Nothing’s happened with Sam,” she says, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “Well, nothing bad, anyway.”
A spark of apprehension or fear flashes in her eyes when she lifts them to meet mine.
My unease grows.
“What?” I say, my jaw clenched. “What is it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words fall heavy between us.
I’m struck dumb.
Pregnant.
I shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve been married for almost four years.
My chest tightens as she watches me, her body tense like she’s bracing herself. I hate that she’s nervous or scared of my reaction.
“That’s awesome,” I say, jolting to my feet.
She flinches, but I ignore it and cross the room to pull her into my arms for a hug. The tension remains for a beat, then she lifts her arms and wraps them around my back, melting into my embrace.
“I’m really happy for you, Tori. You’re going to be an amazing mum.”
A sob slips from her, and I hold her tight as her body shakes, feeling like the world’s biggest arsehole.
She was still a kid herself when she was thrown into the role of caretaker, and I didn’t make it easy for her.
At fourteen, I was battling demons that no amount of therapy seemed to help, and it only got worse the older I got.
She never asked for any of it, and she never once complained.
Even when I stole from them and ruined her wedding. Tori has always been there for me.
Now it’s my turn to repay the favour.
“Hey,” I say in a soothing tone as I rub her back. “This is great news. This kid is the luckiest kid going around.”
“It’s a boy,” she says, her voice muffled against my chest. “We found out this week.”
My stomach sinks. Now I understand her concern. Addiction and addictive behaviours can be genetic, and she’s seen it in both men in our family—me and our father. It’s not biologically a male thing, but it worked out that way for us.
“History won’t repeat itself,” I assure her. “This little guy will have loving parents, and an uncle who will be there for him no matter what. He’ll take after his dad, and everything will be fine. Sam’s a great guy.”
It pains me to say it, but it’s not a lie. Sam doesn’t trust me, and he’s wary of me hurting her more than I already have, but he loves her, and he’ll be a great dad to my nephew.
Fuck.
My nephew.
My sister’s pregnant.
Tori pulls away from me, laughing through her tears as she swipes her fingers under her eyes. “Gosh, these pregnancy hormones are something else.”
“How far along are you?”
“Fifteen and a half weeks. I’m due mid-November.”
Another twist in my gut. She waited fifteen and a half weeks to tell me.
No, arsehole. She’s been trying to call you for two months.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls.”
She shakes her head as she sits back on the couch. “It’s fine. I’m glad I told you in person.”
“Yeah.” I hesitate before dropping beside her. “Me too.”
A heavy silence falls, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
“He’ll be due around her birthday,” I finally say.
My sister nods. “He will.”
“She’d like that.”
I ignore the stabbing in my chest. I’ve barely spoken about our mother in the past eleven years. It hurts too much.
“She would.”
I eye her overnight bag. “How long are you staying?”
She glances down at it. “Oh, um… I thought I could stay tomorrow and watch you play? I haven’t seen you on the pitch since—”
Since before Dad’s death.
I force myself to smile. While the reminder of what happened when I was fourteen is unwelcome, I really would like her to come and watch me. “Yeah, that would be great.”
The front door slams shut, and it’s the only warning we get before a scowling Everett stomps into the room. He stops short when he spots Tori, his brows shooting up.
“This is my sister, Tori,” I say in introduction before he can open his mouth and say something inappropriate. “Tori, this is my housemate, Everett.”
“Hi,” she greets him with a watery smile.
“Hey.” My housemate’s gaze drifts between the two of us as he rubs the back of his neck. “Is everything okay?”
Her cheeks flush and she laughs, waving off his concern. “Oh yeah, pregnancy hormones.”
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and I wonder what’s going on with him. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“She’s going to spend a couple of nights here, if that’s cool?” I ask. I already know Tinsley won’t be staying over, but he doesn’t know that I know.
Her eyes find mine. “Sorry, I don’t mean to impose—”
“Of course,” Everett interrupts. “It’s no problem. I’ve been dying to know more about your brother.”
She grins. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories.”
Shit.
When Everett goes into the kitchen to grab a beer, I pull Tori aside. “No one here knows about our past. I don’t want them knowing I killed our father.”