6. Present Day – Christmas Eve
6
PRESENT DAY – CHRISTMAS EVE
SCOTT
N umb, I follow my feet across the rough ground to my van, then somehow find myself inside, the slam of the door still ringing through the air. Belt clicked in, engine roaring, and wheels spinning, I’m out of the car park in a blink.
Fuck.
I thump the steering wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My fists pound with every word.
Trees and fields stream by, lit only by my headlights.
Fuck.
Yanking over to the verge, I slam on the brakes with another expletive.
My head falls into my palms and I roll my knuckles into fists, pressing into my eye sockets with enough force to make a blinding light appear, even in the pitch dark. It’d make my eyes water, if the sole purpose was specifically to not let that happen.
This is breaking me.
I’m trying to do the right thing. Trying to be the guy Marcus would have deserved as a friend. And it is crucifying me.
But, wrapping myself around a tree in a road accident is not part of that plan, so I squeeze my eyes shut and take gulps of air, trying to calm myself down.
Clear my thoughts.
Jo Jo, Angel, Josie, whatever I call her … she is Out. Of. Bounds.
She’s my best friend’s little sister; make that dead best friend’s little sister. She is an absolute no-no. And the fact that we fucked? Shit. I squirm, uncomfortable in my own skin at even the silent admission. Surely, if he were still here, pleading ignorance would not cut it. Telling him she made me feel more alive than I had in years would not fly. In what world is fucking your best friend’s sister ever okay? And besides, the emphasis is on the little. At twenty-two, she’s too young for me.
Even if by some miracle Marcus did approve, it’s not like he can somehow communicate beyond the grave that he’s cool with it.
My eyes flare open and I stare ahead into the darkness, acknowledging the most important fact of all: after what I did, I am in no way good enough for her. If she knew, she would hate me.
I should consider myself lucky to be friends with her.
God, how that stuck in my throat when I’d suggested it, when all I wanted to do was pull her to me and try to make her understand exactly how she makes me feel.
Fuck.
I need to get on board with this situation and learn to be fucking happy for her. This is the hand I’ve been dealt. Chunk is a good guy. She deserves happiness and love — all of it — not my useless arse taking anything more away from her.
Suddenly a rumble breaks the silence and a light illuminates the hedgerows. I’d recognise that sound anywhere.
Louder and brighter and then it all cuts out and the clump clump of boots approach before there’s a knock on my window.
With a whir, I wind it down without looking.
‘Sup.’ Nate’s voice is calm, almost conversational.
The moon is high in the sky and a few stars break through the smattering of cloud — the reflected light makes the frost on the hedgerows glow.
Finally, I turn to him.
He’s leaning on the door frame with his elbow, head to the side, focus trained on the distance as if he knows direct eye contact will make me bolt again.
‘Hey,’ I reply eventually. ‘Don’t?—’
‘I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay,’ he interrupts. ‘Just wanted to see you got home alright.’
‘Almost,’ I deadpan, my gaze drifting across the dimly lit layby miles from anywhere.
‘You want me to drive you?’
‘Nah.’ I snort as I glance back at his motorbike.
‘I meant I’d drive the van. Fuck, what is with you people?’
I don’t reply.
‘You know what?’ Nate continues. ‘If I can convert Ella, I can convert you, too.’
My brother’s love for his motorbike is second only to his love for Ella. I get it, but after Marcus’s accident, I packed away my helmet and riding kit forever.
‘I took her out tonight, by the way.’ He pauses, looking over at his bike. ‘She loved it. Not that you asked, as you seem unable to form sentences.’
I fix him with a resigned look and press a button, which pops the lock on the passenger side.
He gives the side a double tap as he moves around the van and then swings himself up into the cab.
‘So?’ He dips his head to the side, eyes wide, and I can tell he’s thinking, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you such a grumpy piece of shit? What’s your fucking deal?
Well, he knows the answer to all that.
I sigh. ‘What do you want, little bro?’
‘To see if you wanna talk about it.’
‘There’s nothing left to say. Marcus died eight years ago, and I’m still cut up about it, and I’m still failing to honour his memory, and I’m still a useless?—’
‘Not that. Fuck , not that again.’ He coughs as if trying not to laugh at my stupidity. ‘Do you wanna talk about how you’re insanely jealous of Chunk and Josie and what you’re gonna do about that?’
I look at him sharply. ‘I’m not jealous. So there’s nothing to do anything about.’
He snorts. Snorts. ‘You should tell her you still like her.’
I reply, ‘Jesus, we’re just friends,’ but he talks right over me.
‘Or does she already know? Ohhh, tough break, man.’ He pretends to wince.
‘I said we’re friends.’ It comes out as a growl.
‘When are you gonna quit grumbling and lying and bullshitting and just fucking talk about it?’ He huffs out a laugh. ‘Talk about your feelings.’
‘Feelings?’
‘You dated her, and then ended it for some stupid reason.’
‘It wasn’t a stupid reason.’
‘You think she’s pretty and the expression on your face when Chunk kissed her?—’
‘I don’t think she’s pretty, she’s fucking beautiful,’ I roar. ‘And I’m not jealous of Chunk touching her. I’m jealous that he’s allowed to.’ I thump the wheel again to punctuate my point, my bark ringing out in the air, Nate finally silenced.
His jaw is slack at my outburst. I bury my head in my hands and groan.
‘Man, I think you should?—’
‘No, thank you,’ I mumble from between my palms.
‘What?’
‘I’m doing what has to be done. So unless you’re about to say, “I think you should carry on doing exactly what you’re doing,” then I don’t want to hear it.’
‘What do you mean, doing what has to be done?’
I wrench my head up and look at my brother. Genuine concern is laced across his features. Like the penny has only just dropped.
‘This is all I get, okay? Seeing her kissing people like Chunk is all I can allow myself, no matter how much it hurts.’ Nate doesn’t interrupt and I plough on, rushing to make him see sense. ‘I need to suck it up. See her with other guys, or not see her at all. And I can’t not see her. I need to know she’s okay. So …’ I run my fingers through my hair, trying to get some sort of control over something. ‘I’m sucking it up. Being friends with Josie is all I get. Nothing more.’
‘Dude, I think?—’
‘Nate,’ I interrupt, then soften my voice, ‘thanks for trying to look out for me.’ All the fight has gone out of me and now I just want to go home. Relieve Enzo, close up, and then curl up in a ball in bed. ‘I’m sorry for being a dick.’
‘Which time exactly?’
I fix him my best big brother don’t-fuck-with-me stare. It’s the same one I use when punters get rowdy at the bar.
But the prick has a point.
‘The last few months,’ I admit slowly, ‘I may have been unnecessarily … harsh towards you sometimes.’
‘Only some of the time?’ He flashes me his bloody dimple.
‘I’ve been trying to find a way to … be friends with Josie and it’s been …’ I study my hands which have clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white, ‘… hard.’ There, I’ve done it. Talked about my feelings.
There’s a few beats of silence before Nate says, ‘Lunch tomorrow, still?’
‘Course. See you then,’ I say without looking up.
The van rocks slightly as he gets out and shuts the door. Soon, an engine rumbles and then fades.
Nothing more than friends, I repeat to myself as I shift into gear and drive off.