CHAPTER 35
SHERIDAN
I’m greeted by skittering paws and gentle ruffs when I get home from three nights away in York. The second the front door is closed, Hector barges around the corner and leaps into my waiting arms.
“There’s my handsome boy,” I coo, scratching around his ears and under his chin, my fingers disappearing amongst his soft, fluffy white coat. “Did you miss me?”
Hector licks up my face, and even though I’ve had him over two years now, it never gets any less gross. But I’ll take the affection, because it’s the only kind I’m getting.
“Brin?” I call out, placing the big puppy back on all four paws.
“Kitchen!” She calls back.
I head straight there, nervously fidgeting. She had her hearing today with the school board and I spent the majority of my drive home trying not to stop at every single service station so I could either have a nervous wee or vomit.
She’s leaning against the counter dressed in her PJs, hair a nest atop her head, but her eyes are clear, and she smiles at me when she spots me.
“Are you clear? Going back to work?” I ask, crossing my legs so I don’t have to use the bathroom for the twentieth time today.
She bites her lip and nods furiously. “I’m all good. Back to work on Monday. Although I don’t know how I’m going to explain it away to the children.”
I wrap her up in a hug, squeezing and shimmying and making excited little squeaking sounds. “I knew you’d be alright. You were practically an innocent bystander. And, hate to break it to you, but the kids probably already know.”
“So much for discreet, aye?”
I snort. “No such thing in our family apparently.”
I pull away when I hear the toilet flushing in the upstairs bathroom. “Who…” I glance at my sister, who is suddenly sheepish. “Who’s that?”
It’s then I notice two mugs of steaming something on the kitchen side and my brain starts whirring like an overheated fan.
“Don’t be mad. He was there today and wanted to see you and I couldn’t say no, Shez. He’s a damn mess.”
My heart starts beating wildly at the prospect of Myles being in my house. Of seeing his perfect face again. Brinsley can forgive easily, and I try to shove away my frustration.
The stairs creak and I feel sick all over again.
And then Nash enters the kitchen, in one of his many smart suits—though his shirt is untucked, and his tie is mysteriously absent—and my disappointment that it isn’t Myles is palpable. And that tells me everything.
Nash’s face is a canvas of colours. Fading green and yellow bruises, nearly healed pink cuts, and a new purple splotch under his eye. Brin’s right…he’s a freaking disaster.
“Hi, Shez,” he manages, throat hoarse.
I stare at him for a minute, a little dumbfounded. It’s the end of January. I haven’t seen him since the day he punched my boyfriend in the face. And he’s a categorical shamble.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” Is the first thing I ask, a lot less elegantly than I wanted to.
Nash, who has never been nervous in his entire life, hesitates, throws a look at Brin, and scratches the back of his head. “Er, it’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
I can see Brin’s head spinning in my periphery. She clears her throat, “I’ll leave you two to it.”
Nash and I watch her leave, and then we go back to staring at each other.
“You were in York?” He asks tentatively.
“Yeah, finishing a house.”
He nods. “Go alright?”
“Always does when I’m there.”
His lips twitch with a smile. I’m never arrogant like that unless it’s about work, as opposed to him who is just always arrogant all the time. “Good.”
“I’m gonna go get changed. I’ve been driving for hours.” I promptly turn on my heel and leave him alone in the kitchen.
I change into a large T-shirt and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, adding bed socks because the stone floor in the kitchen is enough to freeze anyone’s toes off in the winter.
Back in the kitchen, Nash is sitting at the breakfast table nursing his coffee. Anyone who drinks coffee after 12pm needs to be studied, because my legs would be bouncing all night if I did.
“Why were you at the hearing today?” I ask him as I pour my own tea.
“Mum asked me to, for Myles’s sake. As an outsider I don’t think they ordinarily would but…well, I did it for Brin more than for Myles.”
I lift my head, but I’m still confused. “What did you say?”
“The truth. That Brin was just a bystander and her presence during our…altercation,” I guess that’s one descriptive for it, “didn’t impact any of my decisions.”
“Right.”
“And then I said Myles didn’t coerce me into hitting him, it was just a culmination of things that happened, and him saying he was in love with you made me snap. I said it was a mistake and I shouldn’t have done it. Myles didn’t deserve it and I’ve accepted I’m completely at fault.”
“Does Myles know you’ve said this?”
“He wasn’t there today. I think his hearing is next week, but I told him I was gonna take responsibility for it.”
“You’ve seen Myles?” I ask, somewhat surprised.
“Yeah… He, er,” Nash points at his face, “helped with a lot of this.”
“What?”
“I know.” He manages to laugh. “Known the guy nearly six years and I did not know his right hook was that strong.”
“That new one is from him too?”
“I gave him a free hit. After he and Beau made up he came to see me again and I said I wasn’t fighting him anymore. I’d gone through four bouts with him and I’m tired. Also he’s trying to foster that kid so I figured a man that committed to doing something good needs his livelihood back. I can give that to him.”
There is so much to unpack in all that I think I might get an aneurysm. Nash and Myles had four rounds with their fists? Myles wants to foster a child? Nash has admitted defeat?
“I…am so lost,” I admit. “You’ve been fighting each other?”
“He just kept turning up, and I guess being his punching bag might not repent my sins or whatever, but I knew he was itching for a fight, so I hit back.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I broke his nose the last time we fought.”
I drag my hand down my face. “Again.”
“Yeah…not my proudest achievement.”
“He wants to adopt a kid?”
“No, foster. That one from his art class.”
I don’t know what to say for a minute. Somehow this man who disappeared on me is still worming into my broken heart and making it better and worse simultaneously. I hate him yet I still love him. It’s only been six weeks and so much has changed.
“Sam.”
“I think so, yeah.” Nash shrugs, and I see him as a surly, stroppy teenager who thought the world was against him, even though he wasn’t the one bullying his own sister.
“Well, besides a few bruises and scratches, you seem to have come away from this the best of all of us.” Perhaps it’s a cruel thing to say but considering he’s the one that hit someone and had them suspended, it still rings true.
He gives me a sad smile. “Stavros bought me out of my half of the company.”
“Oh.”
“He said my behaviour was damaging to the business and he didn’t want to be associated with me if I was going to bring that kind of attention.”
“This coming from a man who has made regularly scheduled misogynistic comments? Sure, okay.”
Nash shoves his hands through his hair, messing up the gel holding it all together. “I know he’s an arsehole at times, but he’s been a big part of my life for a long time. Cutting ties with him like that is…harder than I thought it would be.”
“Maybe I’m missing something, Nash, but from my side of things, you’ve just got a shit load of money out of selling off your business, and you’ve cut a frankly toxic bellend out of your life. I call that a win-win.”
My brother stares at me for a minute with a look that’s so confused it’s disconcerting, and I feel like I’m missing something. “You haven’t got a clue, have you?”
Bile rises up my throat at his tone. “Excuse me?”
He lets out a heavy breath and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know how you and I got like this. We’re so…far apart from each other.”
“I mean…you spent a good three years encouraging bullies towards me, so I have a pretty good idea of how we got here. You’re my brother and I love you, but sometimes I really don’t fucking like you.”
“Sheridan…”
“What? Maybe you think I’m being unreasonable, I don’t know, but I don’t think you ever really understood how much your taunting, and egging on others to do the same affected me. It fucked me up a lot. As if I wasn’t worried about my thoughts myself, you had to go and make me look like I was seriously mentally ill. And, yeah okay, hurting myself the way I did probably didn’t help matters, but at the time no existence at all felt like a far better alternative than being hissed at all day for being a fucking psychopath. You helped that, and you never took responsibility for it, either.
“You and Beau like to live in this world of deniability where if we don’t talk about it, it’s not happening. I’ve never confronted you about this before because it was years ago and I’m better now. Much better. I have a life I love and every day I thank whatever freaking ethereal entity I have to that I failed at hurting myself enough that day to end it all. Because imagine if I had? I wouldn’t get to see Beau play football every week. I wouldn’t get to spend time with Brin like this now that her toxic wanker of a boyfriend has fucked off.
“Which, by the way, how you couldn’t find a single issue with that cunt in three or so years but have the nerve to hate Myles enough to hit him just for being with me, is the biggest head fuck I’ve ever had. John Andrews had his dick in another woman for months and broke Brin’s heart, but you never touched him. Myles treats me like a fucking queen but because he’s your friend and I’ve been a bit delicate in the past, he deserves a broken nose? It doesn’t make sense, Nash. I’ve had six weeks to try and understand it all, and I just don’t.”
I’ve been venting so long I don’t realise until now that Nash is crying, although pretending like he’s not.
He wipes his wet cheeks and sniffs. “Fuck, Shez, you really know where to hit a guy’s sore spots.” His voice is choked so I push his mug closer to him and watch him take a sip. “And that’s not a criticism, it’s a compliment. I admit I’m terrible at being accountable for things when I fuck up. And I also know how much my behaviour affected you when we were at school and I’m ashamed you ever wanted to take your own life because of something I encouraged. I was the worst type of bastard back then and I’ve tried to do better as an adult. Although apparently not well.
“I’m sorry. We’d be here for a long time if I sat and apologised for every bad thing I’ve ever done to you, but I’ll do it if you want me to. I think I’ve been on a bit of a downward spiral recently and seeing you with Myles at that awards ceremony I knew nothing about tripped me over into completely unhinged territory. It shouldn’t have. I know Myles is a good bloke. No one will ever be good enough for you, Sheridan—you deserve the world. But I will admit Myles comes pretty close to the best. Or at least he had been pretty close before he ran off and broke your heart. Pretty sure he’s still in love with you, though, if that helps at all.”
“It doesn’t,” I say.
“Okay.” He laughs, wiping his face again. “But I really mean it when I say I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to take out my frustrations on your relationship. On your partner. If I’d have found out any other day, I probably would’ve been pro-Meridan. I am pro-Meridan.”
“What’s Meridan?”
“Your couple ship name, according to Brin.”
“Oh my God.” I actually manage to laugh. “It’s awful.”
“The alternative is Shyles which is just atrocious, so I think Meridan sounds comparatively better.”
I wave my hands dismissively. “This has gone off the rails. What’s going on with you that’s so bad you ended up punching your best friend?”
Something crosses over his face, and he’s serious all over again. Stern lines and unforgiving creases. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Shez. I learnt a lot about myself when I went to university, and I’d like to think I came away a better person. But there are some things I’ve kept completely to myself. Brin worked one out because she’s annoyingly intuitive. But there are other things I probably won’t tell anyone.”
“At all? Like not even your future wife?”
He smiles at me in that sad way of his. “I don’t think anyone will ever like me enough to want to marry me, Sheridan.”
“I don’t know, some women like the broody thing.”
“I’m bi.”
“Okay, some men like it, too.” I shrug. “Do you even want to get married?”
Nash blinks at me like I’m some kind of alien. “Wait, what?”
“What, what?” I frown.
“That’s all you have to say? Okay?”
“Why, were you expecting me to call the police and have you arrested? This isn’t the 50s, Nash. Lots of people enjoy everyone. Also, I’m kind of not surprised. You have an air about you.”
He looks bewildered. “I can’t believe you’re not making a bigger deal out of this. Brin spent the following three days sending me potential candidates for boyfriends.”
That makes me cackle. “Not me, bro. Find your own boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Was that your secret?”
“Kind of.”
“I’m sorry, Nash. I just… I’m in a community where pretty much everyone is bisexual. I don’t mean to take away from it for you because it’s important, but when you hear I swing both ways once a week it kind of becomes the norm. But thank you for telling me.”
“It’s okay, I get it. Unfortunately, I’m the opposite, where everyone around me is so…masculine and ignorant that if everyone knew about it, I’d be kind of shunned.”
“Seriously? That’s bad, Nash. Like, that’s not normal or even okay.”
“So… Stavros. I’m always in two minds about him.” Fucking Steven. “In uni we were close, as you know, and I told him how I was feeling and my inclinations and he just kind of shrugged it off and said it was cool and he didn’t care. Then a few years later we launched the business and when we celebrated, things changed between us, in that we got closer. More intimate.”
I blink at him. “You slept with your business partner?”
“Yep. Silly mistake and yet it didn’t happen just once. We”ve never had any chat about it or anything, we just occasionally used each other to let off steam if the gym wasn’t doing it for us. So anyway, summer while we’re away he wouldn’t touch me and I didn’t think much of it, like we’ve only ever been like that in private and we were in a cabin with eight other people. I just brushed past it. We come back home, and he starts initiating it again.
“At this point the business is going so well that we’re so busy all the time and I’ve not slept with anyone else for months. I mentioned this to him, and he freaked the fuck out.”
“Freaked out how?” I ask because I have to, even though I know that whatever is about to come out of Nash’s mouth is only going to make me hate Stavros more.
“I can’t remember all of it, I actually think I blacked out a little bit I was so upset. But he basically said I was trying to make him gay, which is utterly ridiculous. Apparently, I’ve been ‘slowly coercing him into a gay relationship’ for years. And then apparently to prove he isn’t gay, he took our brand new receptionist into my office and made me watch him fuck her.”
I’m lost for words for a second, because I’m not sure which part to focus on. “Is the receptionist okay?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s still working there and they’re probably still shagging. Stavros, as I’m sure you’ve worked out by now, lacks a lot of decorum.”
I gasp. “What? No. No way. Not my Stavros. Take it back.”
Nash snorts. “Right? Anyway, that was the day I found out about you and Myles. And your secret life as a cartoonist. Is that what it’s called?”
“It’s an animated web show. I don’t know what my title is.”
“Okay, well, yeah everything happened on that day. I kicked Stavros and the receptionist out of my office, Beau turns up in a fiery rage and shows me this photo of you and Myles together at some awards ceremony, and the next thing I know, we’re all in the car park outside Myles’s flat having a fight.”
“Yeah…busy day for you.”
“Busy day for all of us.” His laugh is humourless.
“You’re better off far away from Stavros. It’s a blessing in disguise, trust me.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am right.” I say confidently, giving him a smile. “What are you going to do now you’ve not got a business?”
He purses his lips. “I’ve been looking at that old hotel in the city. The empty one.”
“The Godiva?”
“Yeah, that one. I might buy it. Get it up and running again.”
I squeal. “Yes! Can I do the interior design?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“I can’t wait to tell Sarah-Jane.” I think of her, red hair and overalls and coffee, and grin. She’ll be so happy.
“Who is Sarah-Jane?”
“She owns the shop next door. She’s been waiting for someone to bring it back to life. Oh my God, Nash, please do it.”
“Maybe. I need to do a lot of research, but it’s the only idea I’ve got.”
I think it’s the best idea he’s ever had.