Chapter Twenty-Seven
The pain was indescribable. Jack felt it take the strength from his legs and the will from his mind as it swept through, riding the train of memory. But Skye stood steadily, letting him embrace the agony and wash it out in tears on her skin. She was even holding him, murmuring words he couldn’t hear into his hair, putting her cheek to his as if to share some of the pain.
‘You see what kind of man I am? Now, do you see ? When I got out? . . . I locked it all up tight, all the feelings and the guilt, all in a little box marked “alcohol”. I drank so that I could feel drunk. To reassure myself that I could at least feel something ; even altered states of consciousness are better than nothing.’
He didn’t tell her that nineteen years hadn’t dulled any of the memories. That he could still hear Ryan’s scream as the car hit, still hear the tearing, grinding sound of the car being peeled apart like an orange. Could still hear himself laughing, that stupid, piercing laugh of the recklessly high, blindly incomprehensive of just what he’d done.
Remorse stabbed at his gut and twisted. For the first time in nineteen years, he let it. ‘I leaned on alcohol and then I leaned on Lissa. Never really stood alone and faced what I’d done, just buried it all, the emotion, the guilt. So, you see, I’m not much use,’ he said. Skye smelled of hot velvet and he wondered if he’d ever be able to pass an uncut moquette sofa on a warm day without thinking of her, and then frowned. That was the second time he’d compared this lovely, willowy, tragically sexy girl to a three-piece suite. ‘Really, not much use at all,’ he repeated to himself.
‘But you’ve got potential.’ Skye gave him a half-smile, which was more than he deserved, he reckoned. His heart gave a peculiar double beat which at first he mistook for lust, but then realised was hope.
A few muscles uncoiled from their rigid stance and he passed a hand over the back of his neck, almost surprised to feel the heat of his own skin. Still alive. Bleeding inside, but still alive. And with her? . . . with Skye, I might even recover.
He raised his head, knowing that his cheeks were smeared with desert dust, knowing that his eyes probably looked like hell pits. ‘I can get you help, Geth? . . . Tyler , you know I can. Shit, I can even help you myself, if that’s what you want.’ Using Gethryn’s real name for the first time, here like this, gave him back some of his certainty. He felt stronger now, as though some of her strength had transferred to him in that smile. ‘Get off the booze, clean up your act. Maybe do a stint in a clinic or something, yeah? Get yourself straight and maybe I can write you another part. I’ll go and see your family? . . . I’ll do anything. I just want to make amends.’
Gethryn clambered to his feet. With his heart sinking Jack saw the giveaway signs: the lack of co-ordination, the shrunken pupils. Geth was beyond listening to whatever he had to say. He wanted revenge, pure and simple.
‘Fuck off. Leave me here. I’m gonna throw myself off, end it all. You’ve told them all about me, that I’m? . . . what was it you said? “Unreliable, unprofessional and unencumbered by morals”, wasn’t it? Fine piece of word-play that, I’d almost admire you for it, if it didn’t mean that I’d be lucky to get a bit part in Days of our Lives . You’ve ruined my life, Jack.’
‘That’s not true.’ Jack knew it probably was, but that wouldn’t help here. ‘Come back to Britain. We’ll come up with something together, Ty.’
‘You just don’t want me to tell them, do you? Kept it quiet, never breathed a word about Ryan, let Liss think it was all news to me — I didn’t tell no-one, see. Get me Lucas James back and I might just manage to keep it all down a bit longer, might be able to see my way to “forgetting” what you did to my brother. What do you say, Jack?’ Geth held his arms wide. ‘You overlook my little habits and I’ll overlook you being a murdering son of a bitch. Okay?’
Jack felt the hope well up inside him. He could get out of this clean, get away; no-one need ever know what he’d done. All he had to do was bend a little. Make excuses. Tell everyone that Geth was re-hired and . . .
Her eyes. She was watching him as though she stood a million miles away, afraid to reach out because of the distance. Her dress was still stained with his tears. This woman, who’d overcome her own fears, who was building herself a new present on a shaky history. A woman whose past scarred her inside and out and yet was brave enough to be content to forget. No compromise, just moving on.
‘No,’ he said aloud, startling himself. ‘No, Tyler. You go ahead, you tell them all about me. I’ve spent nineteen years denying myself everything I should have felt back then. I pushed it all down, the guilt, the fear, even the love; I wouldn’t let any of it out in case it hurt, but now? Now I’m sick of running scared.’ He tilted his chin towards the other man. ‘Sick of living in fear. I want it out in the open. Go ahead.’
‘Skye.’ Geth’s voice was slow, like something was taking effect. Jack cursed himself for having let himself take his eye off the man. ‘Come here a second. I want to tell you something.’
‘Geth? . . .’ Jack started forward, but Skye touched his shoulder, her simple, easy gesture paralysing him.
‘It’s okay. I’m assuming I know the worst now?’
Her eyes were so wonderful. Why had he never noticed how lovely they were? Iceman, you’ve not just melted, you’ve puddled. ‘Yeah. That was it.’ He even managed a smile. ‘And I’ve always been kind to kittens.’
‘If I find that was a lie, I’ll be very upset.’ She crossed the roof, stopping just short of where Gethryn was standing. ‘What is it? What do you want, Geth? I’ll listen, whatever. Just? . . . just stop this.’
Gethryn took half a step forward, towards her. ‘I’ll tell you what I want,’ he said. Another step. ‘I want this over.’
And before Jack could move, react, breathe , Gethryn had seized her around the waist, thrown himself backwards, and taken them both off the edge of the roof.