And I missed Luke. Where the hell was he, anyway?
I trudged back to my room to retrieve my phone. The screen lit up with a message he’d sent at eight a.m.
Luke: gone to sort my tyres. catch u later if you still want to visit Billy with me?
I’d clean forgotten about that, but my reply was instant.
Mia: Of course. Call me when you’re ready.
I set the phone aside and flopped on my bed. Driving to whatever shithole Billy had wound up in was the last thing my hungover self wanted to do, but I was fast learning that with Luke by my side, any journey was a blessing.
The sense of foreboding in my veins as I drifted back to sleep was incidental...right?
Chapter Thirty
Luke
Luke: do u know Morgan Benson?
Billy: i know Faye Benson, his sister, and he has a bunch of brothers too. why?
Luke: no reason
Billy: okay then
Luke: should i know him?
Billy: don’t think so. he was a year below me at school. little weirdo kept showing his willy to old ladies
If Billy was trying to make me laugh, he was doing a shit job. If he was serious, I wanted to puke. My memories of school were hazy and felt like they belonged to someone else. I couldn’t recall anyone showing their dick to anyone, let alone old ladies, but I did remember the weird kid who’d followed Mia and her friends around.
I put my phone down as Fran came back in the room.
“I’ve got these for your brother.” She handed me a Tupperware container of something that looked suspiciously like she’d baked it. “Tell him I’ll come up in a few days when he’s home. Help him get settled in.”
The chances of him agreeing to that were less than zero, and we both knew it, but I took the Tupperware anyway and put it by my keys. “Do you think I should tell him I’m coming?”
Fran straightened the already straight magnets on my fridge door. “I don’t know. Maybe. You parted on good terms, didn’t you? And you’ve spoken since?”
“Yeah, but he asked us to stay away...give him some space. Ambushing him in hospital again is probably a bad move.”
“So tell him you’re coming.”
It seemed like madness. But my thumbs flew over my phone screen as I tapped out the message.
Luke: lock the doors. I’m coming to see u
Billy: when?
Luke: in a bit
He didn’t reply. And perhaps without Mia’s drunken encouragement I’d have backed out. But even if Billy told us to fuck off, getting out of Rushmere for the night could only be a good thing after the police had pretty much washed their hands of the harassment case.
My thoughts turned black again. Gus had called me an hour ago, but I still wasn’t at peace with what he’d told me. “She thinks it’s a coincidence. Her ex was being a dick about the divorce, and some Rushmere kids went on the rampage around the same time.”
Gus hadn’t offered an opinion either way, but I knew him well enough to assume his thoughts mirrored mine, and had given him the rest of the day off to stick around the house until I picked Mia up this afternoon—a decision that came back to bite me on the arse when she called a little while after Fran left.
My phone was in my hand, fresh from the nervous text I’d sent Billy to tell him I was coming. “Hey.”
“You told my brother to stay home and babysit me?”
“No.” I set the phone to speaker and carried Fran’s Tupperware to the bin, knowing Billy would appreciate being spared her odd smelling sponge cake. “I’m knackered from necking cocktails all night and carrying your trashed self home, so I gave him the day off.”
“Liar,” she spat for what felt like the thousandth time.
“If you say so.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Mia fucking hissed, venom seeping down the line and into my kitchen. “Brilliant. We’re back to that, are we? Evasive fucking bullshit that sends us round in goddamn circles?”
“Mia—”
“No,” she snapped. “You told Gus to stay here because you were worried about me and this ridiculous harassment crap the police think is coincidental nonsense. It wouldn’t kill you to just fucking say so.”
She hung up, leaving me half bewildered and half delighted that our relationship had returned to something resembling our teenage years. In hindsight, perhaps I had been habitually evasive, but I’d admit the truth when I saw her, and she’d be okay with that. I got her, and she got me.
I fired out a text to say as much, but she beat me to it.
Mia: Sorry. You just frustrate me. Still. I love you xx
I deleted my original message and tapped out a reply.
Luke: i know. i’m working on it. love u x
But my phone battery died before I hit send. Sighing, I jogged upstairs to plug it in, then came back down to figure out what I needed to do before I made the three-hour round trip to see Billy. Fighting through the traffic around the IKEA roundabout to get to the timber merchant was unfortunately at the top of my list.
I drove the van—complete with its monkey’s worth of brand new tyres—out of town to the retail park in the industrial estate. The traffic was shit, and I’d left my phone at home, so without Spotify to distract me, my thoughts returned to the strange events Mia and the police apparently thought weren’t worth further consideration. Logic told me they could be right, but my gut said otherwise. The break-in, the van, the weird packages in the post. Even without the black car that had trailed me around Rushmere a few weeks ago, it all added up to something I couldn’t shake. Maybe it wasn’t her ex, but I didn’t find that notion comforting. A pissed off ex-husband made sense. A rando doing this shit didn’t. At all.
A shiver ran through me. Fuck, I needed to talk about this—preferably with someone who took me seriously. Frustration and disquiet was building in my veins and I knew what would happen if I didn’t find an outlet for it. Nothing. Old habits would die hard and I’d shut down, derailing everything Mia and I had been through to get to this point. But who could I talk to? Who could I confess to how fucking terrified I was that there was some lunatic out there about to amp up this bullshit? What if Mia had interrupted whoever had broken into her van? Would her face look like the battered roses I’d swept from the concrete?
Nausea rushed me. I swallowed thickly and tried to push the macabre image from my mind, but it was tough when I had nothing but the back end of a wanky Range Rover to focus on. Anxiety buzzed in my veins, my blood roaring in my ears, and I swear my teeth fucking trembled.
Thankfully, though, the traffic moved on before I could have a complete meltdown, and navigating the roundabout from hell pulled me clear. I parked outside the timber merchant and opened the back of the van to make space for the wood I needed for the week ahead. After a busy few weeks, it took a while, but keeping my hands occupied was good for my soul.
With a clear space and a lighter mind, I shut the door and turned towards the shop. The roar of an engine spun me round again. A black car was speeding across the car park. I met the gaze of the driver as it careered towards me, and his name was on my lips as metal crunched bone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mia
Four o’clock came and went, and with it Luke’s window for being caught in traffic.
Dick. I tossed my phone on the kitchen counter, sending it clattering towards Gus.
He caught it, thick eyebrow raised. “I don’t know what you’re getting shitty about. You’re the one who bitched him out and hung up.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Did you?”
“Yes,” I growled, before remembering Gus was neither psychic or had access to my messages. “I sent him a text.”
Gus snorted. “That’s a copout. You don’t get to be a
moody cow then get out of it with a lazy message.”
“What else do you suggest I do? It’s not like you’re going to let me out of the house, is it?”
“I never said not to go out, just that you should maybe keep a low profile for a couple of weeks. See what happens before you figure out what to do next. I haven’t locked you in, have I?”
More rage bubbled inside me, and I fought to keep it there. My childish temper had weakened as adulthood had progressed, but there was a huge part of me that wanted to reach across the counter and dunk my brother’s head in the vat of tomato soup he was eating. Besides, he might not have locked me in, but he’d made his feelings and his fears perfectly clear, and the part of me that didn’t want to deck him agreed with him. Rebecca’s theory made perfect sense, but it just felt...off.
I reclaimed my phone.
Mia: Are we still going to see Billy?
The message delivered, but Luke hadn’t been online since I’d last spoken to him, and the two ticks next to my innocuous words remained resolutely grey.
I wondered if he had his phone set up to show previews of messages on his lock screen. If he was reading them without having to open the app and show his face. I’d never thought to look at his phone.
Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something nicer.
Mia: Look, I said I was sorry, and I really want to be there for you tonight. Please don’t go without me xx
“Go where?” Gus peered over my shoulder.
“To see Billy,” I said absently. “He had surgery at the weekend.”
“He okay?”
I glanced at him. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because he’s Luke’s brother and I’m not a cold-hearted wanker.”
Fair enough. “He’s okay, as far as Luke knows, but they need to reconnect.”
Gus nodded. “Makes sense. They’re quite similar in that respect. That’s why it’s so hard for them to move forward.”
“I didn’t know you were the expert on the Daley brothers.”
“I’m not, but we lost Mum just like they lost their dad. You ran away and I stayed here, but we never shut each other out the way they did. Yeah, shit went down we didn’t tell each other, but we were still... I don’t know. We were still us, I guess. Fuck, I ramble when I’m hungry.”
I couldn’t see how he could possibly be hungry after three tins of Heinz and most of a loaf of bread, but the rest of what he had to say sank in. Festered. Luke and Billy needed each other, and the idea that me being a grumpy bitch had waylaid Luke somehow galled me.
Back in my room, I sent another text.
Mia: Me again. And I’m sorry again. Go without me if you’re pissed off with me, but PLEASE GO. And give Billy my love xx
I didn’t know what else to say. Luke’s voicemail kicked in when I called him, so I took the hint and left it alone. But I couldn’t sit still. My bones felt like they were crawling out of my skin, and I paced my room like a lioness in a cage. Silence was Luke’s armour when he was upset, but the more I replayed our last conversation in my head, the less I could see him sulking over something so trivial. Back in the day, every other phone call had ended in me hanging up on him. I wasn’t excusing my immaturity—hell no, I was a brat when I got fired up—but Luke was a better person than me. Always had been.
Eventually, I wore myself out and flopped on my bed. After checking my orders for the following day, I wrote a to-do list and took a shower.
Gus was waiting in my room when I got back, his handsome face twisted in a concerned frown.
“What’s the matter?”
“Billy just called me. Luke didn’t show up to visit him.”
* * *
Gus wouldn’t let me drive. He forced me into the passenger seat of my own fucking car, and drove like a pensioner to Luke’s house.
The van was gone. My heart lurched. Luke and Billy’s relationship was a work in progress, but there was no way Luke would’ve let him down. Not now, after everything they’d been through.
“Gus—”
“I’ve got a key. Let’s check inside. If he’s not here, I’ll call Fran.”
“Billy didn’t call her already?”
“He couldn’t get through. Call Luke again while I check inside.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Gus pushed me back into my seat. “No. Stay here.”
He was gone before I could argue, but I got out of the car anyway and called Luke while Gus disappeared into the house.
It rang and rang before his automated voicemail kicked in. I called straight back, but hung up when Gus appeared in front of me, clutching Luke’s phone. “Shit.”
“Don’t panic,” Gus said. “Wherever he’s gone, he’s just forgotten it. He might be caught in traffic on the way to see Billy as we speak.”
“It’s nine o’clock. He was leaving at four.”
“Then maybe Fran knows where he is, but listen. You two are—”
“Don’t.” I snatched Luke’s phone and saw my apology messages unread on his screen, along with a couple from Billy. “Just don’t, okay?”
We got back in the car and drove to Luke’s childhood home. I had no idea what car his mother was driving these days, but Gus’s muttered curse told me it wasn’t where it should’ve been.
He fished his phone from his pocket and made a call, cursing again when whoever it was didn’t answer either. “Fuck. She’s not here and her phone is ringing out too. We can check the pub, but if he’s not there, I don’t know what else to do.”
I had nothing. Just panic and fear melding with the dread I’d been carrying for days. Something was wrong. I couldn’t say how I knew, but I did.
“Hang on a sec.” Gus’s gaze flickered to something outside of the car. “I think Barb next door is trying to get my attention. Wait here.”
He left me in the car again, and once again, I got out, but this time I followed him, and reached him just as Fran’s friendly neighbour confirmed my worst fears.
“The police came,” the old woman said. “Luke’s been in a terrible accident.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Luke
I’d never been so confused in my fucking life. I blinked hard, willing Fran’s worried face to morph into someone else, but when I tried to figure out who, white spots danced in front of my eyes. “I want—”
But for the thousandth time, I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Fran shushed me, and pushed me down on the padded shelf I seemed to be lying on. “The doctor said you have to stay still.”
Doctor? The fuck? I hadn’t seen a doctor since my last navy medical. Hadn’t visited my local GP since I was twelve. Why the hell was a doctor telling me to stay still?
Thinking about it made the bone-crushing headache throb even worse, but since it was the only thing keeping me awake, I went with it and forced my fragmented brain to come together and take stock of the weird situation I seemed to be in.
Headache aside, my whole body hurt, and the sensation of my mother holding my hand was almost as strange as the arctic cold air blasting up my nose. I reached for whatever was resting on my face and ripped it away.
Fran sighed. “Really? Again?”
“What?”
She said something, but I couldn’t hear her. Her lips moved like a cartoon, and then she was gone.
I couldn’t say how much time had passed when I next saw her again, but I knew the moment I opened my eyes that something had changed. Her features were sharper, more familiar, and though my surroundings still made no sense, I recognised them for what they were.
Fran gripped my hands as I struggled to sit up, but she couldn’t keep me down.
I shook her off. “What the fuck am I doing in hospital?”
“You don’t remember?”
I tried for a glare, but m
y head hurt too much to pull it off. My vision swam and my stomach lurched, but a vicious pain in my left side kept me upright. “What’s going on? Where’s Mia?”
“Mia?”
Brilliant. On top of everything else, I’d apparently neglected to keep my mother up to date with my love life too, but Fran spoke again before I could. “I don’t know where Mia is. I can ring Gus and ask, but you have to lie down, okay? Your ribs are broken and you have a head injury.”
Broken ribs. Head injury. I matched the words to the pain radiating through me and groaned. “How?”
“You were knocked down by a car outside the timber merchant. Hit and run. The police are looking for the car. Do you remember anything?”
I wanted to. Every instinct I had screamed at me that I did, but chasing it hurt too much. I shook my head helplessly and lay back down. Pain pulsed through me, and I closed my eyes to it, willing it away. But pain had never worked like that for me. Absorbing it was all I had, and I let it pull me under, dragging me so deep that even Fran stroking my face began to feel normal.
* * *
“We’re looking for her,” Rebecca said, holding my gaze. “We went to the house, but there was no one there, and her car was gone. Hopefully, she’ll turn up soon.”
Not good enough. I wrapped an arm around myself and peered over the edge of my bed for my missing boots. Waking up to the police looming over my bed had kicked my concussed memory back to life, and now they were telling me not only was the lunatic who’d run me down still on the run, but they had no idea where Mia was. If she was safe. Alive, even. Because no one was denying that Morgan Benson had intended to kill me with his fuck-stick black Ford Focus.
Morgan Benson. I turned the name over in my head. I knew him—vaguely, but I didn’t know him. Billy had, though. Maybe Mia did, too.
My jolted brain retraced the last two days to the uncomfortable encounter I’d shared with my apparently would-be killer. The house, the path, the tiny fucking gate...she’d walked straight past him. Hadn’t talked to him, smiled at him, or so much as glanced his way. I was sure of it, but there were holes in my recollection of just about everything right now, and thinking too hard made me too dizzy to be taken seriously. I had to get out of here.
Forgiven--A Second Chance Romance Page 17