Page 6 of Into These Eyes
“Instead of a girls’ night, we could have a girls’ morning. We can cook pancakes in our pjs, do each other’s hair and fingernails. What do you say?”
I grin. “Mum, we’ve always done that.”
She gives me a playful frown. “We have?”
From the time I started forming memories, Saturday mornings were amongst some of the best. In a rush of emotion, I hug her. “You’re pretty cool.”
“Whoa, that certainly means something coming from a teenager.” She pulls back and touches my face. “I’m proud of you, Jamie. You’re turning into a wonderful woman. Just … open your heart, okay? Forgiveness is a powerful thing.”
My mood lighter, I nod, then head out to find Anika. As annoying as my sister is, I do love her. And when I leave home, I know I’ll miss the little cutie.
Chapter 4
Gavin
The frigid winter air cools the sweat on my face and neck, but does nothing for the slick skin beneath my tracksuit.
After sprinting aimlessly through the familiar streets, my footfalls gradually slow to a walk until I come to a complete stop. Resting my hands on my knees, I suck the cold air into my heated lungs. It hurts. And I like it.
With my breathing under control, I walk on, barely paying attention to where I’m going. I’m too in my head, too caught upin the confrontation with Dad. I fist and uncurl my right hand. Unfortunately, the throb in my knuckles doesn’t lie. I hit my father.
Fuck. I’ve screwed up. I have no idea where that rage came from. It felt like I vanished, went somewhere else while something dark and out of control crept inside me and took over.
I try to reason that Dad put his hands on me first, provoked me, but a shove isn’t a punch, no matter how I try to convince myself otherwise. I’d decked the man who, until recently, had been there for me my whole life. The man I love. I guess that’s why it happened. If I didn’t care about him, I wouldn’t have reacted.
But God-fucking-dammit, he’s been cheating on Mum. How was I supposed to take that news? How am I supposed to process itnow? I might’ve calmed down after running off all that aggression and adrenalin, but that doesn’t mean I’ve accepted what he’d sprung on me tonight.
In fact, now that I can think, I’ve gotta wonder if it’s even entirely Dad’s fault. I mean, who the hell is this woman? Can she really be callous enough to sleep with a man while his wife’s dying? Or did she seduce him because she had a reason to? We’re upper-middle-class, I guess. Maybe she sees Dad as an opportunity to raise her status. He’d been vulnerable and raw during Mum’s deterioration. In a volatile moment, had she been there to give him the kind of comfort no one else could?
Shaking my head, I scuff the bottoms of my sneakers on the footpath. It’s all speculation. The only way I’ll know the truth is to ask him. I suppose that’s only fair. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions that could be woefully wrong.
As a drop of sweat runs down my spine, I shiver.
I can’t let her destroy what’s left of my family. I’m an only child. Dad’s all I’ve got. So why am I the one wandering the streets? No one’s forcing me out of my home. Especially notsome piece of work who’s probably after my father’s money. Maybe I can put a stop to this before she gets her claws firmly hooked in him.
Fury rushes through me again. Checking my watch, I realise Dad didn’t mention what time she’s supposed to be arriving.
As I break into a run, I concentrated on the steady rhythm of my feet as they slap against the footpath.
Although I dread facing Dad, I want to confront her more than anything. If she’s there, I’m gonna let rip. There’ll be no holding back. I just hope I can keep this simmering rage under control long enough to humiliate her. By the time I finish, and she sees how much damage she’s done, hopefully she’ll flee my home in tears.
Hyped up, ready for a confrontation, I fly along beside the massive golf course that backs onto our house backs. Nose tingling, breaths visible with every exhale, I wipe at the icy tears flowing over my cheeks and try to convince myself they’re simply a reaction to the biting air.
As I grow closer to home, I slow to a walk, wanting to catch my breath before I get there.
When I turn the corner, heavy footfalls rush toward me from the shadows the streetlights don’t quite reach. A figure wearing all black and a baseball cap barrels into me so forcefully, I bounce off the guy and land on my arse on the damp nature strip.
“Hey!” As I scramble to my feet, whoever the fucker is vanishes around the corner without even acknowledging me.
Prick.
Turning, frantic movements catch my eye. Soft lamplight illuminates the second-floor window of the house that sits on the dogleg bend further along our street. But that’s not what has my attention.
It’s little Liam Thompson’s shadowed figure. He’s waving at me.
But is he waving? His silhouette’s arms flap wildly, as if he’s trying to take flight. He’s only six or seven, so at first, I think he’s playing some sort of weird game. I stand there, staring up at him with confusion. As suddenly as his arm movements started, they stop. Then his window flies up.
“Gav! Gavin!” he yells excitedly.
