Survival (Twisted Book 1) (19 page)

I entered the bedroom and found tea lights flickering on the chest of drawers and bedside cabinets. I sighed as I looked at Thomas, standing by the bed waiting for me.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

I could feel the emotion bubbling not far under the surface. Thomas saw it.

He stro
de towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders, “You breathed.”

He crushed me to him and I cried into his chest, great loud sobs of regret and fear of the future.

“Hey,” he held me back and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m here. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” I nodded. “Come.”

He led me to my side of the bed and tapped my arms for me to raise them. Removing his t-shirt from my body, he kissed each shoulder and pulled back the duvet as he discarded the cotton on the floor.

“On your stomach.”

I got on the bed with a sigh and relaxed a little more. The mattress dipped as he straddled me and the smell of lavender grew stronger.

“You’re still clothed,” I said, turning my head to look at him.

“It’s not about sex,” he squirted oil onto his hands. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

His hands found my shoulders and began to ease the tension that had knotted at the bottom of my neck the second the news came on, and as he slowly caressed my body, encouraging the tightness and aching to fuck off, I closed my eyes.

As I drifted into a Thomas and lavender induced sleep, my mind travelled back, and back some more.

I was lucky to have a brother like Oliver.

June, 1997.

“Skye!”

I turned around to see Oliver chasing after me. The girls I was with fluttered their eyelashes and – far too indiscreetly – pushed out their chests. They always did that when Oliver was around. They were all crushing on my brother and, as much as I told them how awkward that was for me, they didn’t stop. Oliver was tall, taller than me at least, with dark hair that flopped across his forehead and bumfluff on his face that he wouldn’t shave no matter how many times I’d laughed at it. What the other girls saw, I had no idea. He was my brother; I had to listen to him burp and watch him scratch his butt on the way to the bathroom in the mornings. He was kind of brooding, I guessed; he was always on guard, watching, like he was waiting for something.

“Yes?” I huffed when he caught up to us.

“Can we go to the library?”

If anyone else on the face of the earth had said that, the girls would have turned their noses up and walked away, but when Oliver said it, they swayed on their feet like they were leaves on a tree blowing in the breeze.

“Really?”
I whined. “Why?”

“I have some stuff to do and I can't do it at home. I’ll help you with your homework if you need it.”

“Maybe we could all go. I’m sure you’re a great teacher,” Clara suggested, her voice sounding nothing like the one she swore at me, frequently, with.

“It’s okay,” Oliver grabbed the strap of my bag and pulled me from the group. “You’re probably getting better grades than me, anyway. See you later, girls.”

They all sighed like the teens in those Fifties movies as we headed back into school and to the library.

“What’s the deal?” I asked, pulling out of Oliver’s hold. “You never want to study with me.”

“Sure I do,” he looked at me with a cheesy grin. “You’re my little sister.”

“You never let me forget it.”

I returned his grin and opened the library door.

I did have work to do. Mr White, the headmaster, was my science teacher but he had to step out of the day’s class because one of the older boys had been in a fight.

I pulled my text books out of my bag and got to work. I could finish the lesson’s exercise while Oliver did his work and we would be home in time for dinner.

I looked up from my workbook when I was finished. Oliver was leaning back in his chair with his headphones on and eyes closed. The journal he carried everywhere with him was resting on his chest. I kicked him under the table to get his attention.

“Are you done?” He asked, slipping the headphones around his neck.

“Yep. I thought you had work to do?”

He looked down and began packing his Walkman away.

“You know we’re a team, don’t you? You and me?”

“Of course, crazy.
Why?”

“I just want to make sure you know it.”

I nodded and we stood up and left the library. We waved to the caretaker as he walked the hallways swinging his keys around his finger. We must have been in the library for ages.

Oliver took my bag off me and swung his arm over my shoulder. I swatted him away when he started messing up my ponytail.

“You know I’ll protect you, don’t you? Whatever it is, whoever it is, I’ll protect you. Don’t ever think you can't talk to me…about
anything
. Just promise me you know that.”

“I know,” I jumped up to throw my arm around his shoulder and walked on tiptoes. “You’re my big brother.”

I messed up Oliver’s hair and laughed when he playfully shoved me away.

I didn’t trust Beth as far as I could throw her. And the return of my estranged big sister wasn’t the only thing on my mind.

October 18
th
, 2010.

I slept like I was in a coma but woke up an hour early and felt awful. Thomas wasn’t in bed; I could smell his body wash from the shower and he’d left his wardrobe doors open like he always did.

I heaved myself out of bed, into the bathroom and skulked downstairs. I heard Beth and Thomas talking. I’d almost forgotten about her.
Almost. Thomas was leaning against the counter with his protein shake and a granola bar. It was gym day. Beth was sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” Thomas handed me my cup as I stepped into his arms. “I called Nina.”

“Thomas, I’m going to work.”

“I told you she was tameable,” he grinned. “You’ve got the week off.”

I rolled my eyes, “Great.”

He tipped the remains of his shake in the sink, washed it down and grabbed my hand as he pulled his jacket off the back of the stool.

“Bye, Beth,” she waved as he led me out of the room. “Get out of the house with her today. Let her talk and just listen.”

“When did you become an agony aunt?” I gripped his jacket when he’d put it on and straightened it. I didn’t want him to leave.

“I like to think I know what you need,” he kissed my forehead and pried my hands away. “It’ll be okay. I’ll call you at lunch. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Thomas opened the door and Jen was standing on the other side with a wriggly Buster in her arms. Thomas kissed her cheek as he stepped past and waved to me before he got in his car.

“Hi, Jen,” I took Buster off her. “Thanks for having him.”

“He likes socks,” she sighed and held up a pair of chewed up old football socks. “I’m guessing you don’t want a lift to work?”

She nodded at my t-shirt and tried not to laugh. Yes, I lived in my boyfriend’s clothes.

“Family stuff. I’ll call you later.”

She nodded, sensing the unease. I did finally tell the girls about everything – almost everything – pre-2003; I couldn’t keep avoiding answering the questions about what I was doing for Mother’s Day or where I was spending Christmas. I told them I was a twin – used to be a twin. I told them Oliver had died in an accident; I didn’t tell anyone how. I couldn’t relive the past and see the images in my mind when I told people what happened. I hadn’t even been able to tell Thomas. I told them I had no parents, using the pity that I detested to my advantage. People weren’t insensitive enough to probe, so I got away with telling them the bare minimum – enough to stop the questions.

“Sure thing,” she scratched Buster’s head and gave me half a hug. “If you need anything, call me, okay?”

“Thank you. Enjoy covering for me.”

She clapped her hands in excitement and skipped to her car. She wanted my job. She’d been at Poise as long as I had and was the office manager. She couldn’t go any higher until one of the bosses needed a PA, and she wanted to work alongside Nina. Everyone did. I put in a good word with the fiery divorcee and Jen covered for me whenever I was off. I closed the door as she honked her horn – at 7.30am – and pulled away.

Beth. I sighed. How was I supposed to deal with her?

I dropped Buster to the floor and he sniffed her out as I headed back into the kitchen. She was still sitting at the breakfast bar, picking at her nail polish.

“Can you make sure the specks go in the bin please?”

“Sure.”

She picked her nails when she was nervous; always had done. I hated it. So did Oliver.

“What do you want to do today?” I asked as I opened the fridge and stared in. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Can we talk?”

“Yes,” I pulled out some orange juice. “But not here. This house is our sanctuary and I can't face the past here.”

“I don’t want to be your past, Skye.”

“Go and shower and get ready. I need an hour to do some work and we’ll go out.”

I took my juice to the lounge and switched on the news. The presenter reeled of the football league tables while I emailed Nina to apologise and asked for some work to do at
home. I didn’t want to be alone in the house for a week. I’d kept myself busy, non-stop, for years.

The fight.
It was on TV again; the same clips as last night replaying. Curtis.

I slid off the sofa and crawled towards the TV, sitting as close as I could. He didn’t look how I remembered. He used to be so full of charisma, but all I saw in his eyes then was sadness. He hadn’t found the happiness he deserved. After all those years, I still hurt for him. I didn’t know about his past, not like he knew about mine, but I saw the burden. I
felt
it. And I knew he was alone – like I had been before I found Thomas. Alone and afraid, but putting on a brave face. His charcoal suit hid his tattoos and his hair was considerably longer than it used to be. He looked older; the same stress lines on his face I saw on Geoff’s the night I met him. I hated that I could see him and he had no idea. I hated that he saw me and ran. I hated that it
was
him on New Year’s Eve and I let him go. I knew how it felt to need a friend when it was impossible to let someone in. I hated that he was still alone. He deserved to be happy, to move on from the past that had tormented us both.

“Skye?”

Beth caught me with my face inches from the TV screen and the news had moved on to golf.

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat as I got to my feet. “I like golf.”

I hated golf.

***

“Come on Buster.”

I opened the back door of the car and he jumped out and sat by my feet. Thomas was a genius. In just three weeks, he’d trained our little Rottweiler puppy; he might have liked to chew on socks, but he waited for my permission to move. Ducks quacked, trees rustled in the breeze and the water sloshed nearby, but Buster stayed right by me.

I’d brought us to the lakes. It was an open space that would, hopefully, allow me to breathe during what was bound to be a tough conversation.

“Go on.”

Buster walked slightly ahead as we walked to a bench near the water and I threw him a toy as we sat down. He ran off to the shallows shaking the rabbit toy from side to side.

“So you’re getting married.”

“I am.”

“And he knows you’re here?”

“I’ve told Jack everything. I haven’t sugar-coated or made excuses,” she picked at her nail polish again. “He proposed a few months ago. I told him I can't marry him until I’ve fixed all of my mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes. We can't fix them all.”

“We can fix the ones that matter.”

“I don’t understand why it matters now,” Buster brought his toy over and I threw it back out for him. “We’ve had years to fix this.”

“Life is too short. We lost our brother with no choice. We have the chance to get each other back.”

“It’s not that easy. Too much has happened. I mean, what do you expect to happen now?”

“I don’t know. Phone calls, lunches, family dates. I just want my sister back.”

“I’ve
never not wanted my sister.”

“Just give me time, Skye,” she caught Buster’s toy and threw it back before he arrived at the bench and covered us in mud. “If there’s one thing we don’t know,
it’s how much time we’ve got left.”

“I know.”

I thought about that every day. Would I find out if Dad died? Would someone tell me if Mum died? If I died tomorrow, had I said and done everything that deserved to be said and done?

“What about Mum and Dad?” I asked.