The Vine

by C. A Ellis

  My smile fades as I realise what is being played out in front of me. Is someone playing a kind of cruel practical joke or something? There are images of Luke in the hospital—my Luke, my beautiful man—and at that thought alone, my heart splinters. At first, he is all I see; after all, if he’s in a room, he is all I ever see, but then I notice a woman with him—lying with him, crying next to him, comforting him, cuddling him, kissing him and loving him. In some of the pictures, he still looks gravely ill, but in the kissing ones, he is propped up, and I’m sure he’s awake.

  Oh, God, please don’t let him have woken up briefly and I wasn’t there! My stomach is recoiling, and it has nothing to do with my hangover now. Who is this woman with him in all these pictures? Luke has a lot of admirers, and a lot of exes; one of them, maybe? At this moment in time, I don’t actually care. The thought that he woke up and I wasn’t there is like a vice grip around my neck, choking me. Then, suddenly, it bothers me again. Of course it matters! Luke woke up, and not only was I not there to comfort him, but another woman was, and I still don’t bloody well know who she is!

  My mind flits between the devastating realisation that I wasn’t there for Luke when he needed me, and sheer anger towards the woman who had the audacity to be there in his hour of need when it should have been me. I know I don’t fully realise at this point what exactly the enormity of these pictures mean, and that’s when I see more.

  I cup my hand over my mouth as it hits me. I’m not just seeing Luke wake up, but I’m seeing Luke alive, and by the looks of it, he’s alive and well. I cross my arms in front of me and try to comfort myself, and then what I see makes me shudder from head to foot.

  Luke with Katy.

  If it’s even possible Luke has miraculously recovered from that horrendous accident, I would expect Katy to care for him, but not like this. They are kissing and hugging, and it’s making me feel sick to my stomach. Who is putting me through this nightmare? I am still trying to get my head around the fact Luke could actually be alive, yet the images still keep coming.

  The last picture is of the woman from the hospital, wearing a rock of an engagement ring. At this, I can take no more. I run out with my hand still over my mouth, trying to suppress sob after sob. I run through reception, not even noticing if Giovanni is still there. I run through the glass doors and out into the dark pouring rain of the street. I am slowly choking on my own sobs. This is how I’m going to die—choking because of my shattered heart.

  As the tears stream down my face, I just keep running, not knowing anything about where I’m going until I reach the café. I stand at the door, drenched by the rogue summer shower, and with shaking hands; I put the key in the lock and let myself in. I lock the door behind me and put my back against it.

  My chest is heaving with the wracking sobs taking over my body as my back slides down the length of the door. I physically do not have the strength to hold myself up anymore. As my bottom hits the floor, I pull my knees in close and hug them to me, clutching them tightly with my arms. I’m shivering I’m so cold, I’m shaking with shock and I’m rocking slowly forward and backward in the foetal position that, over the years, I have learned comforts me when things get too much. This—all this—is too much. Far too much. And that’s when my mind starts racing.

  He survived?

  He’s alive?

  He woke up, and I wasn’t there?

  He’s alive?

  Some other woman took care of him?

  He’s alive?

  He leaned on Katy because I wasn’t there?

  He’s alive?

  He and Katy have been intimate?

  He’s alive?

  He’s met another woman—a woman who was there for him when I wasn’t?

  He’s alive?

  They are engaged?

  Oh, my God, Luke is alive! He woke up, and the bottom line is—I wasn’t there. Why didn’t he come to find me? Of course he didn’t come to find me; I walked out on him when he needed me most.

  So he’s moved on with someone who did take care of him at that terrible time. As I cry my heart out, I feel like I’m being watched. I turn my head to look behind me, to check outside the door of the café, and as I stare through the raindrops running down the glass, I come face-to-face with familiar eyes—eyes belonging to a woman I would have once trusted with my life.

  Shock rams back into me. It’s Katy—normally my saviour and my friend, only today, she’s the enemy.

  Chapter Twenty-eight – Katy

  I’m on my way back to the penthouse after following Lizzy back to her hotel from the club. At least we now know where she is staying. I still cannot believe we’ve found her. This has been one crazy night. It certainly must have gotten to Lucas in the end, as he just walked out on me at the club and disappeared without a word. It takes a lot to ruffle his feathers, but that was before Lizzy entered his world. It must be hard after thirty-eight years; his whole life’s dynamic changing the way Lizzy had changed Lucas’s.

  I’ve decided I’m going to get a few hours of sleep, and then I’ll go back to Lizzy’s hotel to keep an eye out for when she leaves. I can’t believe we’ve found her! I mean, I always hoped we would, but I couldn’t get my hopes up, just in case we didn’t. And now, maybe even as soon as tomorrow, I will see her, talk to her and hug the goddamn life out of her. I smile at the thought of it.

  I know how hard this is on Lucas, but as soon as I’ve spoken to Lizzy and prepared her, he can swoop in and sweep her off of her feet. Although, I’ve got a feeling after all this, he’s never going to let her out of his sight again. I mean, jeez, he’s always been protective of her, but now he’ll probably want them to move into a fort and never go out, not even to work. I will have to have a little talk with him about not smothering her; he does seem to listen to me…sometimes.

  I think back to last night and the fact I got to see Jett, and although brief, it had been wonderful. I had managed to scramble through to the front of the crowd, and I had jumped around to tune after tune, and then I waved my arms in the air along to all the slow ones. That man’s voice is truly mesmerising. Jett was mid-song when his eyes caught mine. I saw them widen quickly in surprise before he composed himself for his crowd. He is so professional, I think as I let out a sigh.

  After the first part of his set, he had asked one of his security guys to bring me backstage. I went willingly, of course, much to the annoyance of all the girls and groupies around shooting me daggers. I just smiled sweetly, enjoying all the attention I was getting. As soon as I saw Jett, I had ran to him and thrown my arms around him, and I hung onto him for dear life. I put on a brave face, but all the emotion of the last few weeks was clearly starting to get to me—which was obviously the cause of my meltdown earlier—but I wasn’t about to go there again.

  I heard Jett chuckle at the force of my body being thrown into his arms, but he held me there though, recognising I needed this from him for whatever reason. When my arms loosened on him slightly, he pulled me away from him a little, and there was his trademark smile.

  He held my arms and looked me over, and after a moment, he said huskily, “Katy, you look fantastic…as always.”

  “Of course,” I replied, smiling.

  Jett laughed. “You still have no problem accepting a compliment, do you, girl?”

  “Nope, and especially not from aging rock stars,” I answered cheekily.

  Jett’s mouth gaped at my nerve, so I squeezed him affectionately. Normally, I don’t care who I offend, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Jett.

  He smiled again, and I knew I was forgiven. It was chaos around us, but it felt like it was just him and me standing there looking at each other—well, it was like that for me; maybe not so much for him. I didn’t like that thought at all.

  Eventually, Jett broke the silence. “Have you heard anything from Lizzy?” he asked, concerned. I shake my head at him sadly before saying, “We know she’s been here in Verona, which is why I’m here, but other than that,
nothing. Can you think of anything else from the night she called you? Anything she said or that you heard that might give us any more clues?”

  “No, sorry, it was her mobile she called me from because her name came up, but that’s all,” he said sadly. I look away from him wistfully before I heard him say, “Look, Katy, it’s been lovely to see you, and we really must catch up soon, but I’ve got to go.” He nodded to the stage where I could hear the chanting.

  I laughed. “Oh, of course.”

  “Call me soon, yeah?” Jett shouted. Then he ran off and jumped onto the stage to a rapturous applause and the highest decibel of screaming I think I’ve ever heard. These guys were huge. As I walked off from the backstage area, I was still thinking of Jett, and how I would’ve loved to be able to speak to him properly, and how maybe one day I would give him a call.

  I had then thought of Lucas. I needed to get back to see how he was; knowing gorgeous Lucas, he’d probably gotten his own crowd of groupies surrounding him by now, and I smiled at the thought.

  My smile dropped as soon as I had spotted him—something was up. I touched his arm and he flinched, but when I saw him nod in the direction of the overhanging balcony, I looked around searching, trying to find what had freaked him out so badly.

  And then I balked as I saw her. It was her—it was our Lizzy! I blinked, not quite believing what I was seeing. As I looked back, there was no mistaking it was definitely her, albeit an even more beautiful version. I mean, not that she could ever see it, but she’d always been beautiful, but now, with that hair—wow! I could see she was laughing, but I looked at her eyes, which have always given away what she was really feeling, and that’s when I saw the truth—pain, deep rooted pain. Oh, Lizzy, I thought, feeling nothing but love and sympathy for her and for what she’s been through.

  Snap out of it, Katy, I berated myself. I needed to get Lucas away from her quickly, because I knew what he would want to do, and I’ve got to talk him out of it.

  And so I had talked, and then he had walked.

  After being so deep in thought, I am now at the penthouse. It’s the early hours of the morning, and Lucas should be asleep, and although it’s dark as I enter, I sense something is wrong. I put the light on in the lounge, and I gasp as I throw my hand against my mouth.

  The room is trashed—chairs have been thrown, tables are turned over and there is smashed and broken china and glass everywhere. My first thought is that we’ve been robbed, and my second thought is Lucas—Please don’t let him have been here when intruders smashed this place up!

  Are they still here? I panic. No, they can’t be; it’s too quiet. And that thought fills me with a second wave of panic—the quietness. Maybe Lucas was here, tried to stop them and is now hurt. I run to his room calling for him, and as I barge into his room I am prepared for the worst, but he is not there. Where the hell is he? I check his bathroom, and then I walk over to my room, but he’s not there either.

  As I stand in the lounge completely confused, I spot him outside on the balcony. I run out to him relieved. “Lucas,” I call as I step out with him, and as I do, I look him over. He is still in the same clothes he went out in, his face is tight and he looks exhausted—handsome, but exhausted. Then I notice his hands. There are huge cuts on his knuckles, with dried and congealed blood all over them.

  “Lucas, what the hell happened?” I ask incredulously, sitting down beside him and putting my hand on his knee.

  “I lost it,” he mumbles numbly.

  Then it hits me. “You did all this?” I wave my hand to nothing… to everything.

  He nods. “I guess so.”

  “Lucas, the room is completely trashed.”

  “As I said, I lost it,” he repeats with no tone or feeling to his voice.

  I sigh. “Look at your hands; let me clean them up before I start on the room, and you can be telling me what the fuck is going on.”

  Lucas gets up and walks in slowly behind me, and as we enter through the glass doors, I hear him say, “Fucking hell, did I do all this?” His voice isn’t raised, but there is slightly more life in his tone than before.

  I sigh again, shaking my head as I head to the bathroom to get a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit. Over my shoulder, I say, “I thought you would have been over the moon that we’ve found Lizzy; I just don’t get it.”

  As I come out of the bathroom, I see his face is tight and angry.

  “Lucas, stop,” I say. “What on earth is creating this monster in you?” I pull his hand and get him to sit, and I take a seat next to him, preparing to play nurse. As I take his other hand, I can see he is holding something, and then I realise it is his phone. He’s clutching onto it for dear life; I try to remove it, but his grip tightens. I look at him in question, and he looks back at me, then to his phone. He opens his palm and taps out his code, taps something else and then holds the phone up to me so I can see the image. I take the phone so I can look at the picture of Lizzy more closely. It looks like she is in a café of some sort, and she’s laughing with a young man. I look back to Lucas, still confused.

  “There’s more,” he says, so I start to slowly flick through the images. There is picture after picture of Lizzy in variations of her day-to-day life, laughing with different men, in embraces with them, arm-in-arm with one and then finally, kissing another. I feel Lucas’s demeanour change and tighten beside me as I look at this one. It does look quite intimate, but it could also be innocent.

  “She’s moved on,” I hear him state bitterly.

  “I don’t know, Lucas. This could be innocent.” He makes a sort of pffting sound, and I know it means yeah, right. I look back at the picture, and the more I look at it, the more I’m unconvinced.

  “I might as well pack up and go home; I’ve lost her,” Lucas says; his emotions are all over the place, and he now sounds sad and defeated.

  “Where did you even get these pictures anyway?”

  “They were emailed to me,” he says detachedly.

  “Who from?”

  “I don’t know—an unknown, anonymous. Probably that smooth Italian fucker who’d been like a leech all over her at the club,” he says with pure venom in his voice. “So this is a new side of me Lizzy brings out, eh?” Lucas asks me. I don’t answer, because I don’t think he really wants one; I think it’s more of an observation. I see him look around the room.

  “I don’t even remember doing all this. I remember looking at those pictures after spotting Lizzy. I remember nearly falling apart when I left the club, and throwing my guts up outside. Then I was walking back here, thinking, ‘It’s all done; it’s all over,’ and I felt a sadness like I have never known wash over me, and I remember thinking this is how Lizzy must’ve felt when she thought I was going to die.

  “Then I got so angry, and I was winding myself up with thoughts of him and her. When I got back here, it was like the proverbial red mist all-encompassed me, and that was it. That’s all I remember until you found me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Lucas, but I don’t buy it. This stinks of a setup to me.”

  He swipes his hands down his face, then rests them on his hips as he says, “Okay, just say it is a setup, as in someone is secretly taking photographs of Lizzy and sending them to me. The pictures still speak for themselves. Lizzy is happy; she has made a life for herself. She’s got a connection with that Italian guy—I saw it with my own eyes at the club, and I’m seeing it here in this picture.”

  “Did you see him kiss her last night?” I ask.

  “No, but he was looking at her like he wanted to—”

  “No,” I interject, “from what I saw, they were just a guy and a chick fooling around and having a laugh. Lizzy deserves to laugh after all she’s been through, Lucas. It doesn’t mean she loves you any less. The grief, the sorrow and the complete sadness I saw in that girl’s eyes was pitiful, and all that emotion in them is for you, Lucas; it’s only love for you. Also, as far as that picture goes, don’t believe all you see. The mor
e I look at it, the more I see an innocent, friendly kiss that has been captured to look like something more. Someone is setting this all up and is obviously trying to piss you right off. Come on; who have you upset? Actually no, don’t answer that, because you upset everyone,” I say smirking.

  Lucas ignores my playful banter as I hear him ask, “Do you really think so? Do you really think we still have a chance?”

  “Yes, I think if we play this right, you really do have a chance, but it’s a very delicate situation. Poor Lizzy still thinks you’re dead,” I try to convince him.

  “Okay, okay,” he gives in, “I’ll do anything. I’ll even follow your lead and your rules of how we’re going to play this.”

  “Good,” I say, glad to finally be getting through to the stubborn arse. “Well, the good news is I know where Lizzy is staying,” I continue, trying to brighten his mood.

  “That’s great,” Lucas says, and I can tell he’s really trying to be enthusiastic. I also see his eyes light up in hope. Sometimes Lucas’s relationship with me reminds me so much of mine with Cole, in the way that one minute I want to scream, kick his arse and hate him, and the next I want smile, give him a hug and love him. There is a slight difference between the two though, and it’s the fact I have never thought of Lucas in a sexual way, whereas with Cole, I’ve not only thought about it, but I’ve acted on it, and he is one hot, kinky son of a bitch. Damn these bloody Castle men; they get under my skin one way or another.

  “So,” I continue, “I’m going to get some sleep for a couple of hours, and then I’m going to head over to Lizzy’s hotel and wait until I see her leave. I’m going to see if I can get an opportunity to speak to her.” I get up and walk to my room yawning and stretching. Damn, it’s been a long night.

  “I’ll just tidy up a bit, and then I can work out any damages and offer to pay the hotel,” I hear Lucas say in the distance before I flop on my bed and crash without even getting undressed.