Page 19 of Fury

“I’ve had better,” she mutters as I hand the mobile back. “We should head home. We have a shift tomorrow,” she says to Julianna.

“You need me to drive?” I ask as they stand.

“Chevy is taking us,” she says coldly before wandering off.

“I’ll call,” whispers Jorja, rushing after her.

I get hometwo hours later to find Jennie in my bed sleeping. I groan, turning and heading right back out.

I pull out my mobile and see a message from Xanthe left over an hour ago.

Xanthe: I need to see you.

Me: Are you still awake?

Xanthe: Yes.

Me: On my way.

I arrive within five minutes but park my bike a street away, just in case Donnie happens to drive past.

I raise my fist to knock right as she yanks the door open. She heads into the kitchen, leaving me to follow.

She sits at the table, pulling her dressing gown tightly around herself. “Sit,” she mutters, pointing to the chair opposite hers. I lower into it, and she fixes me with a glare. “You told my friends to have a chat with me,” she accuses.

“That’s not what I said,” I argue, shifting uncomfortably. “I told them he was bad news, which he is.”

“I’m a grown woman, Fury. I can do what I like.” She sighs heavily. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about that. I want to know what happened when we were kids.”

I groan. “What’s the point?”

“Tell me everything.”

“Why? It’ll only hurt you more, and you’ll feel betrayed.”

“By you or my parents?” she asks.

“Your parents,” I mutter.

“I need to know, Fury, because I’ve spent years ignoring the twist in my heart whenever I think about you, which is actually way more than I’d like it to be.”

I try not to smile at her confession. “Your dad caught me in your bed,” I tell her, and her eyes widen. “He gently tapped me on the shoulder to wake me, and I’ll never forget the disappointed look in his eyes as he pointed to the door. I crept from your bed, leaving you to sleep blissfully unaware, and I went downstairs, where he and your mum were waiting for me. Turns out they’d suspected for days, and your mum had heard us that night.” I notice her cheeks burn red with embarrassment. “They gave me the talk about how you were going places,” I say, running my finger over the scratch on her oak table. “And that by dating me, those chances would be ruined. I tried to tell them . . . I tried to fight for us,” I explain, offering a small smile, “but theyweren’t interested. They said we couldn’t be in love, that we were too young to know what that was.”

“I had no idea,” she mutters. “I was trying to remember back to that day. I woke, and they were acting so normal.”

“They’d already called the social worker and said if I left quietly, they wouldn’t pursue charges of underage sex and grooming.”

“Grooming?” she repeats, looking horrified.

“I was two years older, Xanth. We started having sex when you were fifteen. They found your diary.”

“Oh shit,” she hisses. “I’d kept track of every sexual encounter in there.” She buries her face in her hands.

“They had evidence. And let’s face it, a foster kid having sex with the foster carer’s daughter, a judge would’ve slapped a charge on me, no questions.”

She slides her face up, keeping her hands over her mouth. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

“It was easier to just leave.”

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