Page 47 of The Way We Fell

“At the casino?”

“No. Before. It’s why—it’s why I left. I wasn’t bored. I was attacked.”

Ruth’s head springs from my shoulder and snaps to face me, eyes wide and jaw set.

“What? Why the fuck wouldn’t you say something? Katy knew?”

“Don’t you dare be pissed at her, Ruth.” My voice is quiet, a low growl I didn’t expect when the words burst out of my mouth. I have a sudden vision of my sister turning on her best friend, and I won’t be the reason for that. I’ve witnessed their friendship—theirfamily—and it’s something I won’t mess with. “I asked her not to say a word. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“God, you’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Ruth pitches forward and flings her arms around my neck. “I’ll always worry about you, dummy. You’re my big brother.”

She squeezes me for a long moment before pulling away, using her thumb and index finger to turn my chin to face her.

“Are you okay, really?”

Her eyes bore into mine. They’re my eyes. Our mum’s eyes. Eyes I can’t lie to, not anymore. However easy it would be to brush her off and tell her I’m okay, today has been a wake-up call. An unpleasant one. Fuck, I can’t keep lying about being fine anymore, because I really don’t think I am.

“No. Not really.”

She wraps me in a hug again, exhaling slowly and steadily against my shoulder, and I cling to her. I don’t mean to, but I just can’t bring myself to let go, and I know Ruth won’t be the one to do it first. I’ve needed this, my sister and her soft vanilla perfume. Ruth’s hugs have always been a safe harbour, a comfort. In the jeep, and in the hospital, a hug from Ruth was my only goal, even when I was too angry, too broken to let her see me. It’s the one thing I focused on to get me out alive.

I don’t say much more, and for once, Ruth doesn’t push me. I say the bare minimum about the attack, and I tell her I’ve had nightmares. It’s the most honest I’ve been with her for a long time. I downplay the panic attacks more than I probably should, but that’s something I can unpack in my next session with Guy. For tonight, I just want to spend some time with my sister.

Ruth cooks us dinner and we eat overThe Terminator, my favourite film. Another comfort choice. She managed to find enough ingredients in my cupboards to make enough food to fill my fridge for a week, and I stack the last of the Tupperware as she slips her feet into her Chelsea boots and shrugs on her jacket.

“Thanks, Rooey.” I wrap Ruth in a hug as we reach her car. Her ponytail is soft and cool as it brushes against my cheek, and she pats my shoulder as we break apart.

“I’ve got you, bro.” She pushes onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek before climbing back into her Range Rover and blowing another kiss through the window as she steers the car into a turn and out of sight.

Back in my flat, I turn the shower temperature up to a little beyond scalding and step under the spray. I scrub shampoo into my scalp to thoughts of Katy. Thoughts of what an idiot I’ve been. Of how dumb I’ve been to let her get so close—but how freeing it’s been, too, to be seen and understood the way she understands me.

And thoughts of what a monumental fuck up today has been. If hurting Katy wasn’t enough—and really, it was far too much already—I had to have a very public breakdown at the gym. And even worse is the devastation left in its wake. I’ve lost my sanctuary. I hurt—physically—people who have only ever showed me kindness, and now I’ve brought my sister into my mess, too. It felt like a weight off my chest to talk to her, to tell her some of the last few months, but it made me feel like a bigger dickhead, too. Because for all of her pushiness and her lack of tact, my sister is good. She’s kind and sweet and loving, and she doesn’t deserve this.

But isn’t that the mindset Guy has me trying to change? Isn’t that what Katy’s been saying all along?

I can’t get her stricken eyes out of my mind. The way she flinched, the way she pulled back like I might… fuck, like I might have hit her. I’m many things, and I can’t pretend some of them are things I never imagined I’d be. But the one thing I’m not is a man who’d raise his hand to a woman. And while it guts me that she might have thought that of me, it hurts more that I gave her reason to consider it.

She’s the best fucking person I know. She might have started off as a quiet friend, someone to pass the time with, but it didn’t take long for me to enjoy her company—and enjoyher. And I’d give anything to go back to when I made her laugh, rather than cry.

She’s my little sister’s best friend. She’s off-limits. Of all the women in the fucking world, why does this one have to be the perfect one?

I focus on the last happy image of her in my mind: walking into Flights and Fancies this morning in a short denim skirt. Her T-shirt had loose, folded sleeves and a deep V-neck, withcowboy romance book clubembroidered across her chest. She looked like sunshine, with the front pieces of her hair pulled back in a claw clip and sparkly pink gloss on her lips. The lips that smiled so brightly when she saw me, but then trembled as tears fell, because I made her fuckingcry. Because I’m a fucking arsehole. I slam an open palm against the tiled wall, splashing a lethal combination of water and shampoo residue directly into my eye and yelping at the sting. For fuck’s sake.

I’m dried off and in bed fifteen minutes later, even though it’s still early, and the last vestiges of daylight are still clinging to the horizon. This has to end. I have to find a way to just be friends with Katy, because the alternative—losing this friendship we’ve built—is unthinkable. It’s what’s got me through this new season of civilian life. It might be theonlything that’s got me through it. But friendship is all wecanhave, because she’s off-limits. I shouldn’t, but fuck… I’m pretty sure I want her to be more than that. I know I can’t be, but my god, I want to be the kind of man she deserves.

I reach over and pull my phone from its docking station.

Jay

I’m sorry princess

I was a cunt

please forgive me

Chapter twenty-three

Jay

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