Page 71 of The Consequence of You
She frowns at me and moves away, her arm linking with the next person she meets, oblivious to the earth shifting beneath my feet.
I’ve been running today’s conversation with my father over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it. Trying to make sense of all my feelings.
Fuck, everything is so messed up.
The only conclusion I’d come to is that I need to talk to Asher. I need to explain everything to him. I need to tell him how I feel. He deserves to know. The least I can do is tell him about the reason my mother is dead. Maybe then he can understand why I pushed him away. He won’t want anything to do with me when he realises it was all my fault, but at least he’ll have the whole truth. Not just the edited version.
My stomach lurches at the thought of how badly I’ve treated him. First thing tomorrow I’ll tell him everything. I pull my phone from my pocket and see the missed calls from Papa and Luca.
My heart stops for a second, and my vision darkens.
It’s just like that night four years ago. My family looking for me, and me, selfishly thinking only of myself. I never should have left the house like that.
My hands shake as I pull up the Uber app.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath when my attempt to book a ride is unsuccessful. There’s nothing available in the local area for at least another couple of hours. I could walk home, but it’d take almost as long as waiting for the car would, and the last bus was well over an hour ago. I’ll have to call Rossi. As I scroll through my phone to find his name, it vibrates in my hand.
My best friend’s name flashes on the screen. No doubt to wish me a Happy New Year. Her and Grayson invited me to spend the evening with them at their flat.
Fuck,I’d not replied to say I wasn’t coming. I answer her call.
“Hey Dahlia, Happy New Year.” I force some enthusiasm into my voice.
She’s laughing, her voice a little giddy, luckily too caught up in the night’s festivities to read much into my own tone.
“Happy New Year!” Their joy is uplifting to hear, particularly after the year they’ve had. “How was your evening?”
I’m about to reply when someone bangs into my shoulder, causing me to curse. Dahlia’s voice calls out,
“Hey, where are you? Are you out somewhere?”
“I’ve just been out for a few drinks, but I’m on my way home.”
“You’re on your own? You have a ride sorted, right?”
I can picture her concerned face and realise I was wrong in thinking Dahlia would be too distracted to notice. Why does this girl have a sixth sense for when I’m trying to bullshit her. I try to minimise her worry.
“I’m fine.”
“Callie. Do you, or do you not, have a ride sorted?”
“No, but I’m fine, seriously. It’s a mild night. I can walk.”
“Over my dead body are you walking. We’ll sort out a lift for you.”
As much as I don’t want to bring them down tonight, or put them out, I know walking home alone is not a sensible decision, so I hear myself agreeing to ping her my location.
There’s a low wall near the doorway to the bar so I sit down to wait. The lack of sleep this week, and the alcohol I’ve consumed, suddenly begin to make themselves known as I long for my bed. I message my father and Luca to let them know I’m on my way home and shove my phone in my pocket. I owe them an apology, but I’ll wait until I see them in person.
Barely ten minutes later, there’s a screech of tyres behind me. I turn around to see a familiar shiny black Maserati a few metres away.
My heart sinks. Please tell me Dahlia has borrowed thatcar to pick me up because the alternative is enough to make me want to walk back home in the rain, rather thanshare a car with its actual owner. I need to see him. I want to see him.
But not now, not like this. I need time to prepare.
The driver’s window lowers and the distinctive green eyes of the owner meet my gaze. I lean down, looking over his shoulder to see if Dahlia and Grayson are there, but the backseat is empty. I suddenly feel very sober.
“What are you doing here?”I ask, and Asher looks injured by my question. He thinks I don’t want to see him. I’m messing everything up.
