Against the Tide (25 page)

“Oh. Why can’t you have her?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Have you dated?”

I choke out a laugh. “Not exactly.” I feel myself heat up at the thought of what we
have
done, but it’s certainly not classed as dating.

“Ah. I see. Is she easy? Is that why you won’t take it further?”

“No. No, I don’t think she’s easy, at all,” I answer with certainty. “Okay, here’s the thing. She’s awesome, Mum. She’s everything I could want in a girl. I don’t even really know her but I feel like I do, and I don’t understand it. But …” I growl out of sheer frustration, and my mum just sits there patiently waiting for me to get my words out. They stick in my throat but I know I have to get them out sometime as they are already starting to eat me up inside. “I was with her when Lizzie died. I should have been with Lizzie, but I was with her. She will always be the reason that I wasn’t there.”

There. I said it. My guilt and crazy reasoning is out in the open air.

“Oh, darling. It’s not−”

“Her fault? I know.”

“And it’s not your fault either, Finn.” She fixes me with a concerned stare. “We don’t talk about this very much and I don’t want to spend my last days, or weeks, or even months, talking about the end. But, sooner rather than later, I’m not going to be here, and it’s killing me to see you so sad and lonely. When I found out that I was going to die−”

“Mum.” I can’t hear this, I don’t want to talk about her dying.

“Finn. It’s going to happen, and we need to be able to speak about it.” I look down in to my lap as she continues, knowing that if I look up to her eyes, I’m going to lose my shit.

“When I was told that I was going to die, it was the hardest thing to hear. Not for me, but for you and Lizzie. You were my first thought. I can deal with this but watching you and Lizzie have to deal with this, it breaks my heart.” She swallows noisily and I squeeze my eyes tight shut to push back painful tears. “I didn’t want to leave you, I still don’t. But I don’t have a choice. But I wanted to leave this earth knowing that you and Lizzie had each other and that you were going to always have each other to lean on. But now she’s gone.” She chokes back a sob and her grief reignites the feelings I’ve been trying to push away. “I’ve never believed much in God, but I’m hoping that I’m going to wherever Lizzie is. But that means leaving you behind, alone, and I didn’t want that for you. I don’t want it for you. I want to know that you have someone here to care for you.”

“Mum …” I can’t speak. The anguish I feel consumes my words and chokes up in my throat. The only way my feelings can work their way out is through tears. Drops of emotion that I’ve tried to hide but need to shed. I’m drowning.

“Finn,” Mum says through silent sobs, “I need to know you’re not going to self-destruct. I need to know you’re going to let someone love you. I don’t mean now, but in the future. Don’t shut yourself off to happiness because you’re scared of loss.”

“I don’t think I can,” I whisper, looking up at her.

“It’s the one thing I’m asking of you.” She looks deep into my eyes, and she’s asking something that I’m not sure I can promise to do. “You have to live for all of us. Let us all live through you.”

Harley then pushes the door open with his foot and Kyle follows him in. “Look who I found loitering in the corridor.” I jump up and turn away from them, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt and taking a deep breath to compose myself. Although Mum and I have always been close, I’ve never been very good at the deep stuff. I’ve always found it too heavy and would run a mile at the thought of having to ‘talk’. Maybe it’s time I grew up.

“Good morning, people,” Kyle chirps. Mum dries her eyes with a tissue and he bends to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Mrs J. You’re looking beautiful, as always,” he says smoothly. My mum rolls her eyes at him, but he gives her a cheeky wink and she giggles like a school girl.

“Dude?” I scowl at him, although I don’t really mean much by it, I just want to remind him that it’s my mum he’s flirting with.

“Sorry, Finny boy.” His mouth quirks with amusement as he walks around the bed to me. He grabs my face in between his huge hands and kisses me hard on the cheek. “Didn’t mean to make you feel left out, sweet cheeks.”

“You twat,” I mumble as he releases me, finding it hard to suppress my laughter. Harley and Mum seem to find this amusing. Mum looks around at us all, one by one, still with tears welling in her eyes, but the smile she has on her face, it’s priceless.

I text Torran to tell him that I’ll be in later today. He was fine about it, as usual. He’s knows I’m not usually one to cry off work. I don’t think I’ve had more than a couple of days off sick for the last two years, so he knows I’m not pulling a fake sickie. But I can’t concentrate on making a cup of tea, let alone pushing needles through people’s skin, especially intimate parts. Last thing I want to do is slip or pierce the wrong part while my mind is wandering off somewhere else. I have too much to think about and not enough time to do it. I have to make a decision about this baby, and Jamie was right. Seeing Finn this morning just complicated everything. Jamie didn’t buy my explanation that I just wanted some fresh air this morning, which was actually the truth. What I excluded to tell her was that I met Finn, quite by accident on the beach. She would have mumbled some rubbish about it being fate and all that. She’s also right that I’m warring with myself over this baby. I don’t want to get rid of it. I want to have it and live happily ever after. I just can’t see a way to be able to do that. Finn seems …messed up. His troubles run so deeply, I can see it in his eyes, and the last thing I want to do is add to them. But doesn’t he deserve to know? If this baby is definitely his, which I can’t see how it isn’t, doesn’t he deserve to have his say on the decision to keep it or not? My conscience taps at my shoulder at regular intervals, just reminding me that it’s there, and that there are still things left to be settled. I need to help Finn, whether he likes it or not. Even if it’s to ease my own conscience, I need to help justice along its way and Damien needs to pay for what he did.

Black jeans, a tight fitted grey top, a black blazer and spiked heels. Perfect. I strut up the street, walking with a lot more confidence than I am feeling. I spent more time doing my makeup than I have for the last few weeks, but Damien needs to see the old me and not the one that he ruined. I want him to feel that familiarity with me that makes him let his guard down. I stand at the bottom step to his townhouse and dig my phone and keys out of my bag. Right, let’s do this. I click the record button on the voice memo and tuck it in the pocket of my blazer. I don’t know how long it will record for, if it will be clear enough to listen to with it in my pocket, or if Damien will even give me enough information to hang himself, but I have to try.

Taking a deep breath I ready the key in the lock, but it won’t turn. I fiddle and wiggle it from side to side, pulling the door toward me and then pushing it away to try and get the damn thing to move. But, nothing. I check my keys to see that I’m using the right one. I am. The nerves I was feeling from just being here are replaced with a bubbling anger. Fucking arsehole. He’s changed the locks. I bang the door knocker as hard as I can and can hear it echoing through the hallway from outside.

“Damien,” I shout through the letter box. “If you’re in there, you better get your arse down here and let me in,” I yell with a growl. I look around and spot a small rock. If I can smash the glass in the top part of the door, I can let myself in. I grab it, run back up the steps again and I’m about to launch it at the glass, when the door opens.

“Fuck me, girl. Steady on.” He holds the back of his hand up against his eyes to shield him from the daylight and holds the door open with the other. “Guess you better come in.” He walks off, dragging his feet, and dressed only in a pair of boxers, and it’s clear that he’s only just woken up. I follow him through, slamming the door behind me and banging my heels on the floor as loud as I can to emphasise to him that I am really, really pissed off.

“Why the fuck have you changed the locks?” I demand.

“Morning, sweetness. Coffee?” he asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Don’t act fucking stupid with me, Damien.”

“I’m not acting stupid. I’m hungover, and I was rudely awakened by your charming self,” he hisses impatiently.

“Why did you change the locks?”

“You don’t live here anymore, Meg.”

“But−”

“But, what? You wanna live here?” I tighten my lips and scowl at him. “Judging by your pleasant expression, I’ll take that as a no. You don’t live here. You don’t want to live here. What am I supposed to do, Meg? Give everyone in Brighton a key so they can come and go as they please?”

“No, of course not. But I thought you would have let me know. I still have my stuff here.”

“Well, then you’ll need to collect it. Because from now on, you won’t be able to get in unless I’m here.”

“I’m aware of that now,” I snap. God, he’s infuriating. I’m finally seeing the arrogant, self-important man that he always was, and not just what I wanted to see. Or maybe my arrogance matched his and we were both so self-absorbed that we never saw the toxicity of our relationship.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks as he takes his coffee and sits at the table, leaving me standing by the kitchen counter. It didn’t take long for it to feel like this isn’t my home. It didn’t take long at all, and now I feel like I need to be invited to sit with him. Well, I won’t wait for that. So, I walk over and slide the chair out opposite him. He raises a brow a fraction and smirks but doesn’t pass comment.

“I didn’t like the way we left it yesterday.” I shrug.

“Funny enough, I wasn’t too enamoured with it either,” he says dryly, letting me see just a hint of hurt.

“So, I wanted to come and smooth things over.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Damien, stop with the cold, ‘I don’t care’ attitude.” Annoyance barks through my tone and he closes his eyes slowly before looking up at me. 

“What do you want me to do, Meg, huh? Do you want me to say that I’m glad we can be friends and that maybe we should go out for a bite to eat at the marina some time? Or maybe we should take an annual holiday together just to show that we can get along? Well, we can’t be friends. We stopped being friends a long time ago,” he rants, getting louder the longer he speaks.

“I think we need to talk about that night,” I say, sounding calm but feeling anything but.

“Why?” He narrows his eyes at me, confused at the direction I’ve taken.

“Wasn’t that when it all went wrong? What happened with that girl, it changed us-”

“You think?” A smirk tips the corner of his lips and his eyes narrow in to dangerous angles.

“Well−”

“You don’t see any of this as your fault, do you?” He rests his elbows on the table between us and leans toward me,

“MY fault? Why is this my fault?” I screech. “I didn’t give dodgy drugs to some poor girl,” I yell in his face.

“Well, I didn’t fuck someone else,” he yells back, slamming his hands on the table and hurling the words at me viciously, stunning me to silence.

We stare at each other knowing we have both revealed where our relationship hit the point of no return. It was nearly dead before then, but that night forced its last breath. I don’t deny it and neither does he, but I no longer care about recording this conversation. He knows.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” I mumble, cursing myself for thinking it was a good idea.

“It looks like you just can’t stay away,” he says smugly and at that moment, I want to punch him.

“Fuck you,” I swear, standing abruptly and causing the chair to screech across the tiled floor.

“Yes, Meg. You have, many times.” He chuckles to himself at his pathetic attempt at a joke and I feel sick with the thought of being intimate with him.

“Never again,” I bark, before storming out of the kitchen, in a whirl of hair and heels.

Damien calls out behind me, “You’ll be back, Megan. You always come back.”