Chapter Eighteen
Darcy
I wandered aimlessly back into town, my feet carrying me along the darkening pavement while my mind was lost in thought, the sound of distant waves the only soundtrack to my despair.
There were no tears though. My body couldn’t seem to bring itself to do more than keep walking, like I was on autopilot. Every other function was unavailable, and I felt completely numb.
All the way down to my soul.
I’d known this was going to happen from the start and it shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it had. But then again, I’d never intended to get this attached to Owen.
It had always been clear to me that my attraction to Owen was more than physical, and as much as I’d tried to pretend it wasn’t, every time he’d smiled, every time he’d brought me coffee, or called me angel, or simply shown that he cared, I’d felt myself falling.
This was my fault. There was no denying it.
And now I had to live with the consequences of my actions.
It would hurt for a while. Probably longer than I wanted it to. But one day I would wake up and this would all be a distant memory, something I could look back on with clarity and acceptance. And then I would be able to move on.
Overhead, the streetlights flickered on, bathing the cobbles under my feet in a warm glow. I looked around, finally registering where I’d gotten to, and realised I wasn’t far from home.
I debated going inside and climbing into bed, even though it wasn’t that late, because at least then the day would be over.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep though, and the thought of spending hours staring at the ceiling while I replayed every second of my conversation with Owen sounded like torture.
So instead, I opened the front door of the house, turned to the right, and knocked on Milo’s door.
The TV show I’d been able to hear paused, then came the sound of muffled footsteps on the carpet, and the turning of a key in the lock.
The door swung open and Milo appeared, wearing a ratty, oversized T-shirt and a pair of joggers which had seen better days.
His hair was damp and pushed back, and from this angle it almost looked like he’d cut it.
I didn’t know why I was focusing on that. Maybe because it was easier than thinking about everything else.
“Hey,” he said, obvious concern lacing his voice. “What’s going on? I thought you were supposed to be having dinner with Owen and his dad.”
“Mmm, funny story. We didn’t actually make it to dinner,” I said. I’d been trying to go for levity, but it failed miserably and my voice cracked.
“Fucking Christ. I’m gonna kill him.”
“It’s not his fault,” I said as Milo reached out and took my hand, pulling me inside and shutting the door. “It’s mine. I got too attached. I knew it wasn’t going to end well.”
Milo muttered something under his breath I didn’t catch. Then he added, more clearly, “Have you eaten?”
I shook my head. “No. But I don’t know if I’m hungry.”
“Tough shit, I’m feeding you.” He waved his hand in the direction of the sofa. “Take your shoes off and go and sit down. I’ll make you something.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I’m going to. But first, you’re going to tell me everything that happened.”
I sighed, toeing off my trainers as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing rapidly. “Please, Milo. Don’t do anything rash. It’s not worth it.”
“I’m not. I’m just telling Alfie to get his arse down here.” He smiled at me softly, taking my hand and pulling me over to the sofa. “This is a two-person job, and we both know Alfie’s the most rational of all of us.”
“Is he?”
“He is in this scenario.” Milo gently pushed me down and I flopped onto the sofa.
It was a deep orange velvet with a sort-of shell back pattern and cushions you sank into.
Milo’s taste in home furnishings was very like him: bright and kitsch and almost outrageous, but with a warm cosiness to it too.
“Do you want a drink?” Milo asked as I gazed around the room, realising he’d added more prints and random knick-knacks since I’d last been here.
There were colourful vases filled with fake sunflowers, shells from the beach, and a slightly tacky souvenir seagull propped up on the mantlepiece against a crocheted plant.
“Um, maybe some water?”
“Sure? I have wine. Or beer. Or Jack Daniels. I think I’ve still got some sticky toffee vodka from last Christmas too, if you want that with some apple juice.”
“Is it good?”
“Yeah, kinda tastes like a pudding.”
“Maybe that?” I didn’t want to get blackout drunk, but it did sound really nice. And my sweet tooth was intrigued.
“Cool. Stay there, and I’ll get you one.”
I nodded and looked around the room again, half tempted to pull out my phone to see if Owen had messaged me. But if he hadn’t, I’d be devastated, and if he had, I’d probably feel worse. Because I didn’t think there was anything he could say that would make this any better.
I turned the idea over in my mind while Milo pottered around in the kitchen, and in the end, I gave in. My heart thundered as I slid my phone out of my pocket, bile rising in my throat. My hands felt clammy, and I could have sworn I was sweating.
There was nothing from him though.
Only a couple of notifications from the Lick It! Instagram.
“Don’t do that,” Milo said as he appeared beside me and held out a short, round glass filled with a deep amber drink, a large, round ice cube bobbing in the middle.
“I was just…” I trailed off with a sigh, spinning my phone slowly in my hand before putting it on the arm of the sofa so I could take the glass.
“I know, and I’m telling you, don’t. You’ll only make yourself feel worse. And then you’ll be up for hours, staring at it, hoping you’ll get something and feeling shittier and shittier when nothing happens.”
“What do I do then?”
“Turn it off. At least for tonight,” he said as he sat down beside me. “It can be a problem for tomorrow.”
“I don’t think that’ll make a difference. I still won’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I want.”
“You don’t have to. It’s okay not to know.”
I hummed, unsure if that was helpful or not.
I took a slow sip of my drink as I turned over everything in my mind, trying to untangle my thoughts and emotions from the reality of the situation.
The cocktail was cold and sweet, but not overly so.
And like Milo had said, it reminded me of a winter pudding.
It was very drinkable too, the juice and the flavour of the vodka disguising the alcohol. The sort of thing I’d happily drink a lot of very quickly.
There was a buzz from the outside door and I frowned, looking across at Milo in confusion. “Who…?”
“Alfie,” he said. “He made good time too. I hope he didn’t run. He said he’d bring food too.”
He stood and went back to the door, opening it and leaning through to unlock the outside door. “Right on time. Jesus, where the fuck did you get that?”
“Jonathan made it. We were going to put the rest in the freezer, but since you haven’t eaten,” Alfie said as Milo stepped back to let him in, and I tilted my head to see what it was.
He was holding a large, deep purple dish with foil over the top which must have been a pain to carry all the way down the hill from Jonathan’s house. Especially if it was still warm.
But that was just who Alfie was—deeply selfless when it came to people he loved.
“I have, but fuck it, I’ll eat again,” Milo said. “It smells amazing.”
It really did, and my stomach rumbled loudly. I put my hand across it, hoping to muffle the sound. I hadn’t thought I was hungry but now I’d smelt food, I really wanted some. I felt a pang of guilt too because Owen’s dad had clearly worked hard on dinner and I’d ruined it.
Hopefully I’d get to apologise at some point.
“Hey,” Alfie said, shooting me a kind smile as he held out the dish. “I brought lasagne. I don’t know if it will help, but you should eat something.”
“Thanks,” I said as I tried to return his smile. But all that happened was my lip wobbled.
“Give me that, I’ll put it on to reheat. You go and sit down,” Milo said as he took the dish off Alfie. “Do you want a drink? I’ve got some Diet Coke.”
“Sound great, thanks,” Alfie said. He stepped out of his trainers and walked over to me, his curls slightly windswept from the evening breeze. He was wearing his customary Sword & Flame hoodie, and I buried my head in his shoulder as he pulled me in for a hug. “I’m so sorry, Darcy. I really am.”
“It’s okay. I knew it was going to happen. Just… doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“I know.” He rubbed my back soothingly before gently letting me go. I took another long sip of my drink as Milo appeared with a glass of Diet Coke for Alfie, and a refill for himself. I held out my glass, silently asking for more but he shook his head.
“In a minute,” he said as he sat down on the rug in front of the sofa. “Pace yourself.”
I didn’t like that idea. But I had to agree it was the sensible one. I’d never been much of a drinker, and the last thing I wanted was to spend my night in the bathroom, doubled over by the toilet.
“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Alfie asked.
“I don’t know… it’s silly, I don’t want—”
“Okay,” Milo said, cutting me off firmly. “Let me phrase this another way: tell us what happened.”
“You can’t force him,” Alfie said quietly.
“I can and I will. It’s because we love him and it’s for his own good. Because something fishy is going on here and I want to know what it is.”
I shook my head, almost smiling at how insistent he was.
It was sweet that he was sure I’d done nothing wrong, but that was Milo.
Loyal to a fault. “There’s nothing fishy going on.
I fell for a man who doesn’t live here and doesn’t plan on staying here, and in the process, I got hurt. It’s my own fault.”
“I doubt it,” Milo muttered darkly as he sipped his drink. I’d never seen him so angry, and it didn’t make any sense. Why couldn’t he see what I’d done?
“It was only ever meant to be for the summer. We were just hooking up to help with my stress levels,” I continued, hoping I could make him believe me.
“Owen’s contract was only until the end of September anyway, and he’s not the sort of man who likes to be tied down.
He’s a wanderer, he told me that from the start.
He has all the plans and places to go, and he was only back in Heather Bay while his dad recovered.
I knew all that from the beginning and I still said yes.
I don’t see how it can be anything but my fault. ”
Did I wish things were different? Of course.
Did I wish Owen and I had talked about things before we reached the point of no return? Obviously.
But there was no way to change what had happened, and I was going to have to accept that.
“Did you talk to him about it?” Alfie asked. “About staying? I thought you were going to.”
“No. I mean, it sort of got brought up today about him staying. Or coming back next year. And he panicked, like he didn’t even want to think about the idea of being here. I followed him and he tried to apologise but it was clear how he felt.”
“Was it?” Alfie’s mouth had set in a line, and he didn’t seem impressed.
“How else was I meant to take that?”
“You have a tongue in your head and you’re clearly capable of speaking. You could have asked him why he walked out,” Alfie said. “This isn’t just your fault or your responsibility you know.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” I looked at him sadly. “I know you told me to fight for this, but I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not? Don’t you want to be with him?” Milo asked and I wondered if Alfie had filled him in on our conversation. I assumed he had. “It’s okay if you don’t, but fuck, Darcy. You seemed to have skipped grief and gone for full-on nihilism.”
“I do want to be with him. But what’s the point in trying if he’s made it clear he doesn’t want me?
All I did was joke about him staying and that was too much.
I guess… I guess I can’t bring myself to fight for something so one-sided.
And maybe this whole thing isn’t just my responsibility but that’s what it feels like.
I deserve more. I deserve someone who really wants me. I shouldn’t have to beg.”
It was a painful realisation, one that hurt more than anything else had. But it was a necessary one.
I could fight for this thing with Owen, but I didn’t think relationships were supposed to be this hard.
Yes, what we had together was amazing, and when I was with him it felt like I finally mattered.
Like someone actually wanted me for who I was and the things I loved, who shared my passions and wanted me to dream big.
But I didn’t think I should have to beg him to stay with me.
To choose me.
I just didn’t have the energy to change his mind when he’d already decided staying in Heather Bay was an option he couldn’t bear. Whatever feelings he had for me clearly hadn’t altered his plans.
And I was too tired to demand more.
“No, you shouldn’t,” Milo said, patting my knee. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I said and put my hand on his, squeezing gently.
“I’m sorry too,” Alfie said, his hand joining the pile. “I thought it would be different.”
“Me too.” I let out a long breath, my lip wobbling a little.
I really had thought this time would be different. That I’d found someone who I could picture a future with.
But I’d been wrong.
My eyes stung sharply, and the tears I’d been waiting for all evening finally began to flow.