Beautiful Series Boxset, books 1-4

by Lilliana Anderson

  “How is pushing me into a new relationship going to help?”

  “Because in her mind, her ultimate happiness came from marrying your dad and creating a family. It’s how she defines herself. She just wants that same level of happiness for you, however misguided.”

  I look down, picking at an imaginary speck on my pants as I think about it. “Maybe. But I really need her to stop.”

  He slides an arm around my shoulder and hugs me into him. “I know, baby girl. I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss in my hair.

  We sit like that in silence for a while, my head against his shoulder as I inhale deeply, breathing in his familiar scent. I feel at home in his arms, like I belong. I don't want this to end.

  “Hey Trina?” David speaks, nudging me gently with his shoulder.

  “Hmm?” I murmur.

  “Do you blame me for what happened too?”

  I sit bolt upright and look at him, my brow knitted tight. “No. How could I ever blame you?”

  “Because I didn’t protect you,” he says, breaking my heart as he lowers his eyes.

  “But you did, David. You saved me.” My heart aches with sorrow at the thought of him blaming himself. Especially when he was the one who risked his life to get me out of there. I don’t think I’d be alive if he hadn’t broken through that door.

  “Barely,” he says.

  “Entirely,” I counter. “You know, if we break it down, I’m mostly angry at myself. I should have listened when you said you didn’t trust him. I should have stood my ground and never moved in with him. I rushed into it with blinders on and my head in the clouds, thinking you and Christopher would just get used to each other because you both love me. I was naïve and foolish, and I never expected it to explode the way it did.” I take his hand and lace our fingers together. “But it did explode. Now we move on,” I say, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.

  “Then why don’t you?” he asks in an almost whisper.

  I drop my eyes, unable to look at him as I shake my head at the memories flashing through my mind. “Move on to what? A new relationship isn’t going to fix me, David, and I can’t do what you do. I can't go out and pick up, have it mean nothing. It’s different for me. I’m fine as I am.” Fine.

  Fine as his friend. Fine outside a relationship because they only bring me pain. I’m done trying to have it all. It doesn't work.

  “I get it.” A strange look crosses his face as he drops his gaze for a moment, returning it with nothing but anguish in his eyes. “Everything is different since that day.” He reaches out and brushes his fingertip along the pink scar that runs down the side of my face, along my hairline and past my ear. “For all of us.” My eyes flutter closed under his touch. It makes my chest ache, and I want to lean into it. But I don’t. “Does he ever call you?”

  “Yes,” I admit in a whisper, moving my hair to cover that side of my face when he pulls his hand away. “But it’s nothing to worry about. He just leaves messages, and I delete his texts. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the day you got me out of there.” I bite my lip, uncomfortable with yet another lie. It’s what my life has become now, a series of tiny lies designed to protect the people I care about, to protect myself from unwanted questions and judgement. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to stop. Like David said, everything is different since that day.

  Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, I get up and move away from him. “I should go talk to mum. Tell her I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

  “All right. I have to go meet someone, anyway.”

  “Can’t keep your ladies waiting,” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

  He gives me a small smile and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later. Be nice to your mum, OK?”

  “I will,” I whisper, swallowing hard as I watch him turn and walk away from me, hating that he always leaves me to go visit one of his conquests.

  I wish he’d choose me. Despite his argument for the contrary, I know he’d stick around and make it work. He’s not his father. He wouldn’t fuck it up.

  With my heart in his hands, David heads for the front door, saying a quick goodbye while thanking my mum for dinner. As always, she hands him a takeaway container full of leftovers and sends him on his way. He’s family.

  Taking a deep breath, I shake away my troubles and walk over to Mum, putting my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She stops what she’s doing and leans against the sink, a sob breaking out of her chest. “You were right,” she chokes out.

  “No, I wasn’t. I was wrong.”

  She turns to face me. “But it’s true, Katrina. If I hadn’t encouraged you to move in with him when he asked, it never would have happened.”

  “You don’t know that. It could have happened anyway. Mum, I’m sorry I said what I did. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame David. I only blame him. Just him.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “I snapped at you because I don’t want to talk about guys and dating right now. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. Goals and dreams that don’t involve boys. And I’m happy this way. I need you to be happy for me too. I will date again when I’m ready. But it has to be on my terms. Is that OK?”

  “Of course,” she sniffs, grabbing a hold of my hands with her damp sudsy ones. “And please don’t move out. I missed you when you were gone, and I’m overjoyed to have you back.”

  I give her a hug and grab a tea towel to dry the dishes. “Why did David go so soon?” she asks.

  “Oh, he’s fine. He’s off to meet his current girl for a quickie, I think.”

  “Katrina! I can't imagine David is like that. Why do you have to be so crass?” she chides, flicking bubbles at me to make light of the situation.

  I grab some and flick them back at her. “Because I like seeing your face go all pink.”

  “I’ll show you pink.”

  I squawk with laughter when she claps her hand against my face in retaliation, bubbles finding their way into my mouth.

  “Now you’re gonna wish I moved away,” I yell, flicking water over the front of her dress.

  She gasps and grabs the scourer, throwing it at me so it lands with a wet thud against my shirt.

  Things escalate quickly, and it’s on for young and old as suds and water fly around the kitchen, both of us ducking and weaving while trying not to slip in the mess. But we’re laughing so hard we’re crying, our frustrations forgotten and love found.

  When Dad walks in the door, we both look like drowned rats.

  “What’s all this then?” he asks, shock registering on his face as he takes in the ridiculous scene.

  With synchronised movements, Mum and I glance at each other before looking back to dad and saying, “She started it.” Bursting into hysterics again.

  “God help me. I need a beer,” he mutters, leaving the room.

  Mum turns to me and hugs me tight. “I love you, baby girl,” she says, borrowing David’s pet name for me.

  I squeeze her back and close my eyes. “I love you too, Mum.” Family. It’s the only kind of love I have.

  Five

  After a night filled with unsettling dreams, I wake up the next morning way before my alarm is due to go off. The moment my eyes pop open, I know there is no way I’m getting back to sleep. My heart is racing and my skin feels tight. I need to work this agitation out of me; exhaust it with exercise.

  I flick on my bedside lamp before I swing my feet out of bed, catching my reflection in the mirror as I do. I’m a mess. My blonde hair is sticking up all over the place, and I have a crust from drool in the corner of my mouth. My normally clear blue eyes are dull and bloodshot with dark circles underneath them, and my golden tan looks pale, causing my scar to look an angry red instead of the pink it’s faded to.

  “You’d be gorgeous without makeup,” I mutter, recalling Elliot’s words from the day before. At the time they felt honest and flattering, but faced with my sallow complexion, I’
m feeling lied to. What kind of game is he playing?

  I pull out a cleansing wipe and clean my face, discarding it before raking my hair back into a ponytail.

  If Kayley is to be believed, Elliot has never had a friendship with a woman from the office. Priya said he’d never risk his job for the sake of an office fling. So, why is he going to the effort of getting to know me? Is this some joke they’re all playing on the new girl? Was I befriended for the sole purpose of seducing and mocking? Would they do that?

  Holding out my index finger, I squeeze the cream I use to help fade my scar onto the tip and rub it across the jagged line.

  No. That’s too ridiculous to even consider. I’m running on too little sleep and need a heavy dose of caffeine to get my brain functioning in a somewhat logical fashion again. “You’re not in high school anymore, Trina. Maybe he just wants a running partner?” Or maybe he’s interested in you?

  That seems almost as crazy as the plot to make a fool out of me.

  Sighing to myself, I quickly put on my bathers, along with a pair of shorts and a hoodie jacket. Then I pad quietly into the kitchen and grab a banana and my training bag before I slip out into the cool morning air, heading for the local pool.

  Swimming is my weakest triathlon leg. To help with my technique, I usually train with a squad. But arriving so early means I’ll miss them. I haven’t even checked if I can get into the swim centre at this time—something I wish I’d considered before driving here.

  Thankfully, another squad is already training, and after a quick chat with their coach, I’m allowed to join the squad in the water.

  For two hours, I drag myself through the water, up and down the pool, trying to clear the fog from my mind. But it won’t leave me.

  I lied to David the night before. I have seen Christopher. He came to the hospital while I was recovering after his attack on me. I didn’t want to see him. I was so hurt, both physically and emotionally, that I just wanted him to go away and never darken my door again.

  But he insisted on talking. And since I was in no position to run, I was forced to listen. He broke down and cried, begging me not to leave him. He swore he loved me, that he’d change if I’d just give him another chance. He admitted to being on some sort of steroid and blamed their side-effects for the aggression behind what happened.

  Steroids. What possessed him to take those things?

  Despite the drugs, I knew I could never forgive him or even consider taking him back. But after talking to him, after seeing his remorse, I promised not to press charges. That decision didn’t go down well with my dad, my brother or David. But it was what felt right to me. Christopher made a horrible mistake, and I’d suffered the consequences. But I didn’t have the heart to destroy him because of it.

  After I was well enough to leave the hospital, I went with my dad to pick up my things from the apartment. Christopher did as I asked and stayed away, making the move as easy as possible. Getting out of there, I thought I was free. But after a couple of months, he started leaving notes or gifts on my car; he’d call to beg me to take him back. It freaked me out at first, made me wonder if I'd been wrong to drop the charges. I'd thought if he quit taking the drugs and got himself together, he could move on with his life, far away from me. But he couldn’t seem to move on.

  In the end, I caved to his request and met him for coffee in a public place. It wasn’t because I still felt something for him; it was to say that I needed him to stop with the gifts and the begging. It was over for us. Thankfully, he listened, and now, he only calls occasionally to say he misses me, and he regrets scaring me away. I wish he didn’t call at all. I let it go to message bank every time.

  I stop swimming and heave myself out of the pool, sitting on the side as I pull my swim cap and goggles off my head.

  Every problem in my life stems from the men around me. No wonder I’ve sworn them off.

  Six

  Still on for tonight? David’s text lights up my display as I collect my bag for the gym.

  After the altercation I had with Bianca on Wednesday, I figure going to the gym upstairs might help me avoid her altogether. It’ll also mean I skip seeing Elliot. Despite the fact we got along and I really enjoyed my run with him the other day, I think it’s best I keep my distance. I don’t need the extra drama in my life.

  Of course, I type back. Where do you want to meet? We’re still undecided about which nightclub to patron. Some of our uni friends suggested Home or Marquee. But we don’t want to go anywhere that has a line.

  Will meet you downstairs. We can grab food first. Don’t need you puking on me again