Page 37 of Refrain
Xane tugged his phone from his pocket and wakened the screen. He glanced at the time. “Twenty-eight…twenty-nine hours ago. I’d have come and told you sooner, but Ronnie invited us to do a cameo at his final show, and there was no skipping it. I set out straight after.”
“You knew where I was?”
Xane grinned. “Not exactly. Pinning down the details did delay me a couple of hours. I had hoped to arrive in daylight. Suppose it was a bonus you were actually in the UK and not in a mud hut, or an igloo, or backpacking through the South American rainforest.”
That would involve more motivation than he currently possessed. He’d risen and actually dressed today. There’d been weeks when he’d barely stirred from beneath the protection of the duvet.
They stared at one another. Every spark of emotion writ into Xane’s eyes; fear, concern, sorrow… something suspiciously close to actual love. Spook turned away from his gaze and necked another finger of whisky. “You said you weren’t here to drag me back.”
“Do you see any oversized sacks?”
“Xane, I can’t. I quit for a reason. It’s not just about what people think. I don’t want my life to be public property. My private life should be just that—private.” Too agitated by the twist of the conversation, he rose and set to pacing. There was barely anywhere to pace to. The bothy was modelled on an ancient design and consisted of two neat rooms, one of which—the bedroom—had obviously been created by addition of an internal wall. The bathroom was recent, in the form of an en suite. The old brick shithouse remained in the yard. It was a perfect single occupancy dwelling. However, with one other person, it already felt crowded.
He headed for the bedroom just to put a door between them, his head pounding, skin crawling with the irritation of it all. He’d been content—well, not really content, but cocooned—in his bubble. He wasn’t prepared for reality crashing in. Fuck, he’d done all he could to keep it at bay. He hadn’t the strength to deal with the complexities of it. Its soul-gnawing demands.
There was barely space in the tiny bedroom to walk around the bed. He hit his knee trying and sagged onto the foot of the bed. Xane slammed the door open and followed him in. He didn’t say anything. Offered no rebuttals, counterarguments, just stared at him, full of expectation, for a gruelling five minutes.
“I’m not coming back, Xane. I can’t.”
“Bollocks you’re not.” Xane plopped down on the opposite corner of the bed. “Maybe it’s not happening this minute, but you and music aren’t done with one another yet. Black Halo certainly isn’t finished with you, and nor am I. We need you to survive.”
“What about what I need to survive?”
“Well, it sure ain’t whisky and cheesy puffs.”
“You don’t understand.”
“The public are on your side, Spook. The band too. And I am. I’ll always be here for you.”
He swallowed, head drooping. “There shouldn’t fucking be a side for anyone to be on. I just fucking want to be left alone. Can you not understand that? I’m done with it all. I’ve had enough. More than enough. It never gets any better. The memories don’t go away, the scars… People lie when they say they fade. They don’t fucking fade. They just burrow beneath the skin and eat you from within. I tried, Xane. I really did try. Just look where it got me.” Trapped. In a room so small it felt as if the walls would close in and crush him while he slept.
The mattress tilted as Xane bum shuffled across the patchwork eiderdown. He settled directly behind Spook and splayed his legs either side of him. The heat of his body burned Spook’s back.
“You seriously expect me to believe you want to be alone for the rest of your life? That you’re never going to play again? That you’re going to let everything we’ve built die? I get that it hurts, Spook. You know I do.” He drew a line along the neck of Spook’s shirt and round his collarbone. “You didn’t ask for any of this, and it’s shit, and desperately unfair, but running away, abandoning everything you care about isn’t the solution. I know what it’s like to want everything to stop. To be so consumed by the burden of it that you’re prepared to consider the most dramatic measures to make it stop.”
“You don’t know shit.”
Xane leaned closer, rested his bowed head against Spook’s shoulders. “You know that’s not true.”
He did.
“Don’t let the fuckers win, that’s my mantra.”
“It’s not just aboutBang!Siv is still out there. Are you going to predict her next move? Keep predicting them? There sure doesn’t seem to be any way of outrunning her.”
“Spook.” Xane’s touch was equal measures of comfort and torment. “She’s already played her hand and been discredited. There’s nothing left that she can do.”
That wasn’t true.
“She was at the hospital.” He still didn’t understand how she’d learned he was there so fast.
Xane lifted his head. “What?”
“She sent flowers and a card. One of the nurses brought them in.”
He could see the cogs of Xane’s mind turning. Recalling the room, the events of that day.
“We’ll slap a restraining order on her.”
