Page 88 of Refrain
“Explain to me how it’s so piss-easy to fuck about with mister high-maintenance, but even communicating with the woman you claimed to love, and who loves you is so traumatic you barely say a word, and downgrade your relationship to friends at the first opportunity?”
“You don’t need me to explain it, Alle. I’m pretty sure you’ve a better handle on it than I do.” He bumped along the sofa, until their thighs were touching, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder in order to give her a squeeze. “Alle, Xane is piss-easy to fuck. There are no strings. There are no tethers. It’s sexy as hell, and it’s fun. On top of that, Spook trusts him—.”
“Great, so I’m untrustworthy!”
“That’s not what I said.” His voice was steady, unreasonably calm. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what’s going on inside Spook’s head, but I’d lay money on it not being very pretty. The fact he has someone he trusts is a good thing. Likewise, to him being willing to engage in a physical relationship. I know you’d rather it was with you, but realistically, there are barriers. Obvious barriers. For starters, you’re not with him, your brothers are a bunch of shitheads, and also, he’s kinda wary of women, because his ex is a class-A psycho. I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me being in a band that’s in limbo. It’s not the same, but it’s still a relationship. But he’s talking to you. That’s a vast improvement on the last six months, an improvement that’s come about because of Xane. And I’m saying this as one of Mr Geist’s biggest critics. The man’s an emotional well-spring and a screw-up, but they speak the same language, because so’s Spook.”
“I know. I know I should be grateful,” she said, voice becoming shrill. She’d tried for months, but every interaction with Xane had been troublesome. “And maybe I would be if they weren’t…” She splayed her fingers either side of her head in a futile gesture of fury.
“Alle, you know whatever they’re doing, it’s probably nowhere near as wild as you’re imagining it. Also, why the hell are you stressing yourself out about it? You’ve been through this before. If you were going to say to hell with this relationship because he’s shagged Xane, then you’d have done it by now.”
Ronnie’s current manager, Lyra, had given her a similar speech back in the spring.
“Did he say that he wouldn’t do it again?”
“No.”
“Then, no foul.”
“Or I’m just a complete mug.”
He gave her another squeeze. “Hey, you don’t really think that, and I certainly don’t. You’ve been incredibly loyal. That takes guts.” He clasped both her hands and enfolded them in his larger ones. “Don’t put yourself down for being willing to fight for what you want. Listen, I’m not the biggest Xane fan in the world. I’m not sure he always conducts his relationships well. In fact, I think he makes a hash of them quite often, but don’t make him into your scapegoat, not out of fear, or without a genuine reason. It’d be better for your own peace of mind if you accept him as a fact and move on. Let’s face it, he’s the only reason we even know Spook’s alive. Also, let’s be honest here, you’re not looking for a typical vanilla relationship with Spook. If you are, honey, then bail now.”
He was right. She wasn’t, nor was she set on monogamy. It’s just… It all felt too fragile. “What if he decides he wants Xane for life?” It was a fear that seemed to be haunting her at the moment. One that was probably more to do with her fear of never seeing him again than anything to do with Xane.
“I’m not sure he’s got that much of a screw loose, although obviously I haven’t seen him in six months. But, fine, assuming he has… is that endgame material for you or not?”
It was curious that the moment he said it, she knew the answer was no. She’d still want Spook.
Paul jogged his big shoulder into hers. “Hopefully, at some point you can all sit down and talk it over, figure it out.”
Alle raked her teeth over her lower lip. “I’m not so sure I haven’t already lost him.”
“Babe, he’s speaking to you.”
“He hung up.”
“Too painful,” he suggested. “You’ve no idea what it’s costing him in spoons to speak to you. The one thing Ash has passed along is that Spook’s mental health isn’t great. He’s been living like a hermit.”
She did need to cut him some slack, she knew that, and was trying to factor it in, but after months of clinging on to hope by her fingernails, her patience had been eroded to almost zero.
“Is it wrong that I want to hammer nails through a bat and go cave some skulls in?” She’d dreamed of marching into Marshall’s office and taking a bat to his computer. And his hands. Flynn, she struggled to think of without succumbing to nausea, and as for Spook’s ex… Well, she tried not to think too hard about her, because then she wound up with a thumping headache from fearing they were somehow alike.
Paul clasped her hand again. “I’m not sure violence is going to fix things, but…but it’s not wrong to feel the need to lash out. Maybe go smash some mugs.”
She shook her head, so that her hair settled over her face. “I like all my mugs.”
“In which case, go find us some glasses and let’s see if there’s any solace to be found in this bottle.” He reached for the wine he’d brought.
By the time Alle returned from the kitchen with two ludicrously oversized wineglasses, Paul had already opened the bottle. She knew she was unlikely to find any peace through drinking, but maybe after a glass or two she might be more willing to accept what she already knew. It was obvious why Spook preferred Xane’s support to hers. Xane was his safe space. He’d told her that himself. Whereas he associated her with trauma, thanks to her idiot fucking brothers and Siv Gyllensköld. Also, if she was being honest with herself, it wasn’t the idea of him being intimate with Xane that upset her—she’d got herself off more than once while imagining what had happened between them in the past—it was jealousy over their intimacy, because she wasn’t getting any.
It wasn’t fair.
But then, what did fair have to do with anything?
Spook hadn’t asked for any of the things that had happened. And nor had she.
Paul lifted the bottle and poured, before turning his attention to the pile of snacks. She watched him munch his way through a fistful of crisps, while she toyed with the assortment of pens he’d brought, arranging them in rainbow order. If only feelings were so easily ordered. Eventually, she sat down again, and pulled Paul’s arm onto her lap. His forearms were like the rest of him, sinewy and strong, with a sheen of pale golden hair. They didn’t speak for a while as she coloured the spaces between the spiral of thorns and roses that ran from his wrist to his elbow. He was right, focussing on staying within the lines was strangely therapeutic. Although, it also felt somewhat illicit to be drawing on someone’s skin. When she paused to survey her work, Paul slid the pen from her grip and drew a doodle on the back of her hand of two stick figures fucking. Above it, he drew a heart-shaped bubble in which he wrote Alle 4 Spook.
