Page 8 of Actually Yours

We sit in silence as I absorb the darkness of my closed eyelids and Jake presumably absorbs the idiocy of his younger brother.

“But…why would he leave this? He has a new girlfriend.”

I shrug. “Who knows why Robby does anything?”

“I’m sorry, Amelia. He shouldn’t have done this.” The sincerity in his voice has me prying open my eyelids to look at him. And then wishing I hadn’t.

“Don’t you feel sorry for me, Jake. I didn’t come here to take him back.”

Jake’s cheeks flush, and he gets up to pace the room. Back and forth, I watch him prowl, like an animal in a cage. It’s quite a sight to behold. The buttoned-up and normally restrained Jake, all angry and growly.

“Of course you wouldn’t take him back.”

Good, we agree.

“But the whole thing makes no sense. You haven’t seen each other in six months.”

So Jake has been paying attention.

“I know this. Don’t ask me. Ask the man you share DNA with.”

“Humph.”

More silence. This time I’m more alert, fascinated by this display in front of me. During my time with Robby, I’d only seen Jake on a handful of occasions and our interactions had never been more than polite small talk, so seeing him all huffy and annoyed is quite delightful indeed.

“When did he leave the note?”

I shrug again. “I haven’t been home since Friday. Bella got married today.” I sweep my hand along the side of my body, hoping this will explain my appearance in this oh-so-fancy lemon-yellow dress. “So I’ve been staying with her the last two nights.”

He gives me a soft look, his eyes unfocussed as he takes in my dress and what remains of my elegant up-do, before shaking himself slightly. “That means my idiot brother put this note on your door and then promptly took off with his girlfriend.”

I snort at the absolute absurdity of it all. And then I chuckle, and when I can’t hold that in, I just let it all out. I laugh until tears run down my face and a stitch forms in my side.Who does that? And why do I attract only the type of men who would do something like that?

“Millie?”

My laughter stops abruptly at the use of this nickname.

“Yes?” My voice quivers and I hate myself for it.

“Are you really OK?”

Jake sits back down. This time he’s right next to me, so close that I’m absorbing the heat from his thigh pressed against mine.

“Nope.”

I let my one-word answer sit between us as I examine the painting on the wall. It’s a Melbourne city landscape, and it looks familiar.

“How can I help?”

I turn my head, alarmed to find his face close to mine. So close I can see the flecks of gold around the irises of his startling green eyes, and the smattering of grey hair at his temple. Jake is seven years older than me and Robby and is very much a grown-up in every sense of the word. Grey hairs and all.

“I don’t need help.” The lie falls easily from my lips, having repeated it so often over the years that it comes naturally to me. Maybe one day when I say it, I’ll actually mean it. “Tell me a bit about this tour Robby is going on,” I say when it looks like Jake is gearing up to call me on my bullshit.

He grimaces and lets out a dismissive-sounding snort. “I use the word tour loosely. He got a call from that band he sometimes gigs with, ‘Raging Inferno’. Apparently, they have a few venues booked for over the summer and they asked him to come along.”

I recall Robby had sometimes played with these guys when we were together, and that they weren’t very good at all.

“People are going topayto see them?” Scepticism drips from my voice.

---