The Mighty Storm (40 page)

Will is sweet and lovely, but… no, something
’
s missing. And it
’
s been missing since Jake came back into my life, I now realise.

I wind my fingers around his neck, up into his hair, kissing him harder, pushing myself into him, into this kiss, trying to ignite the fire I feel in my belly whenever Jake kisses me. Whenever Jake looks at me.

But it doesn
’
t come.

Was it always missing? Or is it because of Jake. Am I done for life now? Will I never again feel with anyone, how I feel when I
’
m with him. When he
’
s touching me, kissing me, making love to me.

Am I ruined to him?

I break off breathing heavy. Will
’
s eyes are hooded, alive with love for me.

But all I feel is lost and confused and lonely.

And in this exact moment, I realise that I don
’
t want simple. I want Jake in all his crazy complicatedness.

I do love Will, but I love Jake more.

It
’
s always been him my whole life. And I don
’
t want to lose him. He
’
s my best friend. My everything.

I have to talk to him. I need to tell him that I don
’
t care about the redhead. I don
’
t care about any of it. All the mistakes we
’
ve both made. We can start fresh from now.

I
’
ll tell Will everything, right now, if that
’
s what he wants. I
’
ll do whatever he wants me to do. Because I love him.

Totally and completely love him. I always have. And I can
’
t imagine another moment in my life with him not in it.

I glance to where Jake was at the bar, but he
’
s nowhere to be seen.

Where is he?

“
I
’
m tired,” I say to Will. “You mind if we sit?”

I need to find Jake.

“
No, come on.” Will puts his arm around my shoulder and steers me back to our table. “We can leave soon if you
’
d like?”

“
Yes, that would be good.”

Where has Jake disappeared to?

Will smiles at me and plants a kiss on my hair.

I know I should feel terrible right now for Will, but I can
’
t seem to muster any guilt up at all.

All I want is to see Jake.

I sit down in the chair next to Stuart, the others now filled with Simone and Denny.

She looks so totally smitten with him. It warms my heart. I want to be sitting here like that with Jake. The world knowing we belong to one another.

“
I
’
m just going to use the bathroom,” Will says. “Then we can head back if you like?”

“
Sure,” I say distracted. I
’
m just relieved he
’
s going so I can find Jake.

When Will is gone, I take a surreptitious glance around the room, looking for Jake.

“
He
’
s gone, honey,” Stuart leans across and whispers in my ear. “Dave
’
s taken him back to the hotel.”

I get this terrible, awful, sick feeling deep in my stomach.

“
Did he … go alone?”

Stuart slowly shakes his head, no.

My heart starts to compress in on itself.

I swallow down, my throat tight. “The redhead?” I have to ask, even though I
’
m pretty sure of the answer.

“
Yes.” He gives me a sad look, pats my leg with his hand, and picks up a shot off the table, handing it to me.

“
Drink this,
sweetheart
. It won
’
t fix things, but after a few of these, things sure do start to seem a lot easier.”

Holding back tears that are burning my throat raw, I take the shot. I put it down in front of me, pick the salt shaker up, pour it on my hand, lick it off and then throw the tequila back without hesitation.

It washes the burning of my tears away, leaving me instead with the welcome burn of alcohol.

I don
’
t bother with the lemon or beer, inside I chase it down with my margarita, downing it in one.

“
You okay, honey?” Simone asks me, giving me a sympathetic smile.

She must know Jake
’
s gone back to the hotel with Zzhuilette too.

I plaster a bright smile to my face and nod, “Sure I am.”

But I know she knows better. She knows me.

And the alcohol, well that
’
s just a soother for my heart, which is currently broken and laying shattered in pieces under the heel of a leggy redhead, who is more than likely, right now in bed with my best friend and only true love of my life.

And really, I only have myself to blame.

I hesitated. You can
’
t hesitate with a man like Jake.

Oh God. I
’
m so hungover. I actually think I
’
m dying.

After I found out Jake had left with Zzhuilette the redhead, I set out on a mission to erase the knowledge from my mind
–
with the obvious help of alcohol. Basically I wanted to get slaughtered and I achieved just that.

By the time Will had got back from the toilets, I was three shots in, and back on the dance floor with Stuart.

I know he knew something was wrong with me. Honestly I think he probably thinks I
’
m overworked, or have developed a drinking problem from spending too much time with the guys.

Will finally brought me back to the hotel around 12am as I was wasted. I remember him carrying me back to the suite. I think I was singing Mr Brightside at the top of my lungs, and then I spent a long time in the toilet, throwing up.

Poor Will. He doesn
’
t deserve any of this. He
’
s kind and sweet. And I
’
m the devil.

I stretch my stiff body out, groaning, I blink my eyes open.

Will
’
s sitting in a chair by the bed, eyes on me.

“
I got you a coffee.” He hands me over a Starbucks container as I sit up in bed.

“
Thank you,” I say gratefully. I lean up against the headboard and take a welcome drink.

“
You went out?”

“
Just to the Starbucks out by the hotel. I needed the air.”

“
Oh. Sorry I got so drunk. Simone? Did she get back okay? Is she on the sofa?”

“
She stayed in Denny
’
s room.”

“
Oh,” I say.

Good for Simone. One day here and she pulls herself a fit drummer.

“
Look, Tru.” Will rubs his head, pushing his fingers into his hair. “Is there something going on with you? You just haven
’
t seemed yourself at all since I arrived yesterday.”

This is it. I can either tell him the truth or coward out.

Jake and I aren
’
t going to be together. Not now.

The thought causes me actual physical pain.

And then I just know what I have to do
–
I have my answer. Even if I
’
m not going to be with Jake, I can
’
t just stay with Will because it
’
s easier.

Yes, I love him. But obviously not enough or I would never have slept with Jake.

Will deserves to be with someone who loves him and him alone.

I put my coffee down on the nightstand and sitting up, crossing my legs in front of me, I face him.

“
I have to tell you something.” My body starts to shake. I take the deepest breath I
’
ve ever taken, trying to control my fears over what I
’
m about to do.

“
I
’
ve been sleeping with Jake.”

I see the shock, slowly morphing into horror and absolute pain echo across his features.

It is a look that will haunt me for a very long time.

“
What?” he says slowly.

“
I
’
m so sorry, Will.”

He stares blankly at me. His face now washed of any emotion.

“
What? Are you being fucking serious?” His tone is low and heart-breaking.

“
I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t mean for this to happen.”

He puts his head into his hands. “You didn
’
t mean for it to happen! You
’
ve been having sex with Jake Wethers and you didn
’
t mean for it to happen!”

“
I never meant to hurt you.”

I
’
m trying to keep it together and not break. It
’
s not fair on him if I cry.

“
Do you love him?”

The air seems to freeze all around us.

“
Yes.”

He puts his fist to his mouth, stifling a sob.

“
Do you still love me?” His words are all broken.

I look up at him. Will, my lovely Will, who I
’
ve just broken into pieces. I can
’
t help the tear that runs from my eye. I brush it away.

“
Yes,” I answer.

His face hardens. I barely recognise him for a moment. He
’
s out of the chair now, pacing around.

“
So you love me and him! How is that even possible?! We
’
re polar fucking opposites!”

“
I don
’
t know. I
’
m so sorry.”

Pausing, he grabs the back of the chair. “When did it start?”

“
Five days ago. The night before the article came out was the first time anything happened.”

“
So it was the fucking truth! You sat on the phone and lied to me, and all along it was the fucking truth! I actually felt sorry for you, I believed you! I fucking trusted you!”

“
I
’
m so sorry, Will. I
’
m so, so sorry,” I cry.

“
It just all makes so much fucking sense now! The way you
’
ve been acting since I arrived, and the way he has been with you, and how you reacted to him when he was with that girl last night! I
’
m so fucking stupid!” he roars.

Then he turns from me, covering his face with his hands.

He starts to cry.

Oh fuck.

I climb off the bed, standing behind him, I put my hand tentatively on his back, tears streaming from my own eyes, but he moves away. “Don
’
t touch me,” he says low and gruff. “Don
’
t you ever fucking touch me again.”

Leaving him, I sit on the edge of the bed, trapped in the mess I
’
ve made.

“
Do you want to be with him?” he says suddenly, voice rough. He turns to face me.

I bind my hands in my lap. “I don
’
t know. I don
’
t know what I want.” I put my head into my hands.

“
How could you have been with someone like him? He
’
s a fucking whore! All he does is sleep with women
–
it
’
s what sells his shit music! Jesus Christ, Tru, he was all over another woman last night! That
’
s how highly he thinks of you – he was off screwing someone else the moment you couldn
’
t give him what he wanted!”

I don
’
t know if it
’
s the look on my face that makes him ask it, but whatever it is I just feel sick, knowing I
’
m going have to tell him the truth when he says, “Please tell me you haven
’
t had sex with him while I
’
ve been here?”

I can
’
t lie to him. I want to. But I can
’
t.

Closing my eyes briefly, I press my lips together and nod my head, slowly. “I
’
m sorry.” Tears start to run freely from my eyes.

“
I don
’
t fucking believe this!” he yells. Holding himself steady on the back of the chair, he fixes his eyes on my face. “When?
”

Oh God.

I rub the tears from my face. “Last night.”