by Lisa Swallow
“Sky?”
And the day gets more surreal. “Lily. What are you doing here?”
“What happened to Dylan?” Her breathing and tone of panic matches mine. What a fucking nerve.
“I’m not talking to you about Dylan.” I cut her attempt at conversation dead as I walk past, legs trembling.
Predictably, she calls out after me. “Sky, please. Tell me he’s okay? I have to know; that’s why I came after you.”
Ignoring the fear of exactly how she knows my movements, I pause and turn back. “Why the hell do you care? You hate him!”
“I didn’t think he’d do something like this.…” The tiny voice reminds me of the day we met in the cafe, the day she tried to ruin Dylan’s life for the first time.
Lily thinks his overdose was deliberate.
I pause and squeeze my eyes closed, considering whether to say the next words. “You did this,” I hiss. “You made him do this.”
“I didn’t mean to. I never realised he felt… Sky, I’m sorry. Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay.” Lily’s hands goes to her mouth at my confirmation of her fears. A young couple walks by, the woman with puffy red eyes half-hidden behind her curly brown hair, and I sidestep to the wall. The last thing I need is Lily pursuing me through the hospital, drawing more attention to us.
This girl isn’t normal; this isn’t just revenge. Why seek me out and ask how he is when she makes out she hates him and wants him jailed?
“I don’t know. I’m flying out to the States this afternoon. Should I send him your best wishes?”
“I didn’t think he’d…” she repeats, half-talking to herself.
“He’s not in a good state of mind currently,” I say. “Didn’t you realise that when he did his disappearing act in the summer? Haven’t you seen pictures of him with the press speculating he’s been using drugs? So you telling lies to the police hasn’t helped!”
Lily sits on the orange plastic chair I recently vacated. “The Dylan I knew used people and threw them away. I didn’t want this to happen to you.”
“Bullshit!” I snap and Lily’s eyes widen. “You want revenge for a broken heart! Or money? Is all this about money?”
The wide eyes tear up and she shakes her head in response.
“Tell me he didn’t rape you!” I believe Dylan with my heart, but a small part of me needs to hear the words from her.
Lily continues to shake her head, but I can’t tell if that’s an admission or if she’s not listening. Suddenly, she leans over, drags her fingers through her hair and rests her arms on her knees.
“He hurt me,” she whispers. “I felt dirty when Jem told me what he’d done, how he tricked me. I’d never been with anyone before and he stole that from me. He shouldn’t have treated me like that.”
Alarmed by her sudden decision to tell me details I don’t want to know, I glance around to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Lily, this all happened three years ago.”
“I always thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn’t good enough or famous enough for him. Then I saw him with you and it wasn’t fair because you’re nothing special.” She twists her head to look at me, hair spilling across her legs.
I make a sound of disgust. “Way to win me over, Lily.”
“I don’t mean… I mean you’re like me. I could’ve been you!”
“No. If I’d met the Dylan from then, I can’t see things would’ve been any different. He was an asshole, and what he did to you disgusts me. But that isn’t who Dylan is today.” I pause. Can I make her see reason? “Which is why you have to drop the charges.”
“He shouldn’t have done what he did!”
When her intense blue eyes tear up, I stare back, refusing to be drawn into this. How can she be this screwed up about everything so long afterward? “I know, Lily. But he didn’t rape you! Did he coerce you? Did you have doubts?”
Lily slumps back and looks at the ceiling, not responding and my heart stutters. Maybe this isn’t as clear-cut as I thought.
“No,” she whispers. “Dylan Morgan wanted me, and I wanted him. I was young and stupid. But you know what?” She turns harder eyes to me. “Because of him, because of that night, I can’t stay in a relationship because I don’t believe anyone loves me if they want to have sex with me.”
Jeez, I don’t need to hear this; why the hell is she telling me this stuff? “This is your issue, not his,” I say. “I understand this affected you badly but don’t blame the man he is now. He doesn’t deserve to be accused of something he didn’t do. You need to talk to someone and come to terms with the mistake. This happens all the time; even guys who aren’t rock stars use people.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re defending him!”
“I’m not defending his behaviour; I’m telling you this isn’t him anymore! He feels guilty to the extent that he believes what he did was wrong, and it’s eating him up.”
Lily chews a nail, blinking thoughts across her mind and I think the conversation is over.
“Lily, if this isn’t true and this goes to court, the truth will come out and things will go badly for you. Look how easily you admitted to me and I’m not a lawyer! They’ll rip you apart.”
Lily continues to stare at the wall opposite. I doubt I’m getting through to her.
“Will he see me?” she asks, turning back to me, eyes reddened by tears.
I choke. “See you? I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s in hospital recovering from a drug overdose, remember?”
She winces. “Right. Afterward? If I drop the charges, do you think he’ll see me?”
Lily may as well have slapped me across the face because her words sting. Every time I think I have her motivation figured out, she says something else. She now wants to see the man she hates and is trying to get arrested.
Unable to respond or believe I’m having this conversation in a hospital corridor, I step back, not giving any more of my energy to this situation. “I have to go. Please reconsider what you’re doing to him. Move on. Don’t drag up the past.”
Lily’s eyes don’t shift from the opposite wall, and I don’t wait. I won’t indulge her. Will she listen? Will she stop what she’s doing? One thing for certain, I can’t deal with her on my own anymore.
I’m scared what her next move might be. I glimpsed something more beneath the hurt girl than someone looking for vengeance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sky
Dylan’s hospital is more like a hotel, completely different to Tara’s NHS surroundings. The huge room has thick brown carpet and coordinating curtains covering a window overlooking a garden where patients sit on wooden benches.
When I arrive, Dylan’s lying across a cushioned blue sofa, facing away from the door with his feet on the sofa arm, watching the huge TV in the corner. I hover in the doorway; surging emotions of relief and love mingle with my exhaustion. Taking a breath, I step into the room and walk around to see him properly.
Dylan pulls himself up to sit as he turns his pale face toward mine. The dark smudges beneath his eyes are more pronounced than I’ve seen and he’s pale, right down to his full lips. The look in his tired eyes is wariness.
“What the hell happened?” I ask hoarsely. Of all the things I’d planned on saying when I first saw him, this wasn’t one of them.
He blinks in surprise. “It was an accident. I didn’t think about what I’d taken…”
“You could’ve died! Mixing prescription drugs and alcohol, you idiot!” I half-yell and hug my arms around myself, frustrated by my reaction.
“Sky.” Dylan pulls himself to his feet. “I’m okay, come here.”
He attempts to wrap his arms around me and I push him in the chest. “No! You said you’d stopped! You could’ve died!” I repeat.
Dylan grabs my arms and I fight against him, pulling away to continue pushing into his chest. He fights my half-hearted assault as I fight the tears. There’s nothing wrong with his strength as
he catches my arms and grips them tight. I give up and sink into him, letting go of the tears I’ve held in.
“I’m so sorry. I love you. I didn’t think. I wanted to forget everything.” He strokes my hair, rubbing his cheek against the top of my head. “Fuck, I needed you. I didn’t realise how much.”
Pulling away, I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “Don’t blame me!”
“I’m not; I’m saying I lost some of my strength to cope without you.”
Dylan cups my face with a cool hand and I tremble with the relief of us touching, existing, and being pulled back together.
“I love you, Dylan. You scared me. I thought I’d lost you; that they were lying about what happened and you were really sick and…” Dylan interrupts my pouring emotions by placing his lips softly on mine and hushing me.
A week without Dylan’s touch and I’m ready to lose myself in him again. But I’m scared. I pull back and search his tired eyes for the answer to my biggest fear. “Dylan, this was an accident, wasn’t it?”
“Of course it was an accident! Shit, Sky. Why would I want to die when my life is starting again? When I have you? My mirror, the girl who gave me life and let me breathe again?” He seizes my face in both hands, fingers digging into my cheeks. “You are my whole world; my breath, my warmth, my strength - everything and I wouldn’t want to leave that world.”
I want to reply, my heart and mind are fit to burst with words and feelings I struggle to express, and in Dylan’s face is a pained need to hear them.
“You won’t leave after the tour?” he asks, brows tugging together.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be your today. I don’t want to wait for a tomorrow that will never exist.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
Dylan breaks into the smile I remember he gave me the first evening at the beach house, as if the darkness around has been lifted. My tears are ruining the reality of my smile and he wipes them with his thumb before placing his mouth gently on mine. The familiar, natural moulding of our bodies and mouths fuses us again, as if when we let go the world might fall apart. The gentle kisses become fierce, a mixture of frustration and desire coming out in the hardness of my mouth on his. A week away from him and with everything that’s happened, it feels like a year.
When Dylan withdraws, there’s something is in his expression I can’t fathom, as if he’s worrying about something. “Sky…”
The door to the room slams open and Steve walks in with Bryn. “Good news, mate.”
Steve, as usual, barely registers me. He’s aware of how I feel, and a couple of weeks ago, I heard him muttering about how I wanted his job, which I thought was hilarious. I’m not keen on having kids, especially not four big kids like Blue Phoenix.
Dylan huffs, drops his hand from my face and sits back on the sofa. I place myself next to him and he wraps his arm around, pulling me close.
“Good news? That’s a first.”
“Well, you’re alive for a start. I’d say that was fucking good news,” says Bryn.
I tense and Dylan closes his fingers around mine. “What’s happening?”
“Lily Parker dropped the charges.”
Just when I’d stopped crying, too. Dylan hugs me closer and I not so discreetly cry relief into his t-shirt.
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, but the press know who she is now, so she made a mistake there,” says Steve snidely, “serves her right. We did right by her three years ago and she fucked things up herself by doing this.”
I pull away. “Help her again.”
All eyes in the room look at me in surprise. “I saw her. She’s a mess; she can’t cope with press scrutiny as well.”
“When did you see her?” asks Dylan hoarsely.
“Yesterday. This morning. Whatever this time zone is. She’s been trying to contact me and when she heard…”
“Trying to contact you? What the fuck, Sky? Doing what? When?” Dylan attempts to be gentle in his questioning, but fails.
“She tried to get in touch with me a few times before she went to the police.” Steve inhales and I snap my head up. “What’s that reaction for?”
“Sweetheart, you should’ve told us. Maybe we could’ve avoided the whole police business.”
“What the hell? Are you saying this is my fault?”
“If you’re going to be part of this, there are ways to deal with things. If you’ve got a stalker, let us handle the situation.” The simmering tension between Steve and me has a lid, but I don’t think it’ll stay on much longer.
“Part of this? The Steve Bennett Experience?” I become aware of Dylan rubbing my leg and tense. If he defends Steve’s attitude…
“Sky makes her own decisions, Steve.”
“Fine, but she needs to realise she doesn’t have a fucking clue how to deal with this shit.” The dark look thrown at me suggests ‘fine’ isn’t true.
“Well, I did deal with the situation,” I retort. “I told her to drop the charges by pointing out exactly what she was getting herself into! Maybe she doesn’t listen to bullying.”
“You’re an idiot if you think this is the end of Lily,” he says quietly, glancing between Dylan and me.
Bryn hovers in the doorway, watching proceedings in his quiet manner and he winks at me. I smile back, glad of his calming presence in the room.
“Well, she backed off. Let’s be happy and move on,” says Bryn.
“But help Lily get the press off her,” I say.
Dylan frowns and I place my finger on his lips before he can speak. “You owe her that, Dylan, and then this is will be over.”
I consider telling him about Lily wanting to see him, but know what a disaster that would be. Nothing dredged up would disappear from the surface any time soon if they spoke again. Reconnecting the pair of them rewinds the situation back three years. I’ll have the conversation with him, but not while everything is fragile.
Steve’s phone rings and he swears under his breath when he looks at the caller name. He answers. “Shit. Okay. I know, but Dylan Morgan just took a fucking overdose, what do you expect me to fucking do?”
I swallow the rising lump in my throat and Dylan sinks back. “I did not take an overdose.”
“It’s still an overdose whether deliberate or not, mate,” says Bryn.
Steve spins around and leaves the room, evidently dealing with the next Blue Phoenix problem on his list. He certainly earns his money from maintaining his well-oiled machine.
Bryn remains leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He intrigues me; his laid-back nature and sense of humour are at odds with the rest of the band. Once, he even joked to me; he wished he’d learned guitar instead then more of the girls would be interested in him. Not that I’ve seen him with many girls, the odd one, but he tends to shut himself away more. He says he prefers his own company and I’ve heard the others tease him about the time he spends gaming.
“How’s your friend?” asks Bryn.
“Shit, sorry, Sky, I haven’t even asked,” says Dylan.
I shake my head to tell them not to ask anymore.
Bryn peers into the hallway of the hospital to where Steve continues his phone call then quietly closes the door. “This shit ends now, Dylan.”
“What?”
“This fucked up mess. Not just you. This. I’ve arranged to get us together while he’s not around.” He tips his head toward Steve.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. Jem’s sober-ish; I think he’s in shock from what happened to you. Two deaths in his life would’ve been the end of his sanity I reckon.”
“Jem?” I ask. “Was he there?”
“Yeah, we were drinking together. If I hadn’t been with him, I would’ve been on my own.”
Crap, no more tears. Too late. The vision of Dylan alone in his hotel room, unaware what he’d done to himself and nobody knowing he was… I gulp in breath at how easily I could’ve lost him and how cl
ose I came.
“I’m leaving hospital this afternoon,” begins Dylan.
“Are you sure? Are you okay?” I ask.
“Things could’ve been worse. I was lucky Jem didn’t think I’d passed out drunk. He was straight onto getting me to hospital and sorted. So, yeah, they’re not happy I want to go, but I’m not in any danger.”
I look to Bryn and he nods. “Lucky for Dylan that Jem had a bit of a sixth sense about this.”
I sit on my shaking hands, not wanting another reminder of what could’ve been.
“Is your stuff at the hotel?” Bryn asks me.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll catch up with you later?” He turns to Dylan. “You might want to get more detail from Steve about the Lily situation? I’m guessing Sky’ll want to go back to her friend?”
Bryn’s ability to read the situation, including my need to go back to Tara amazes me. I’m not used to guys being this intuitive.
“Yeah, okay,” says Dylan.
“Get his help before we piss him off.” Bryn arches a brow and Dylan doesn’t respond. “I guess you’re staying with Dylan, summer Sky?”
Always.
Chapter Thirty
Dylan
There’s running from problems, and there’s killing yourself trying. I guess I crossed the line. Even without the support of the guys, I’m out of here. Why fool myself any longer? I need space. To breath. To be.
Sky. I fucking hurt her again by letting her down. Knowing that the pain in her eyes when she walked into the room was partly due to me, sears the reality across my mind. I need to change.
No more running. No more hiding.
Getting away from the hospital (leaving behind the unimpressed medical staff) and back to the hotel was a military manoeuvre. We timed me leaving out the back with Tina walking out of the front with a statement for the press, one quashing rumours I’d tried to kill myself. I’m suffering from “exhaustion” apparently, which isn’t far off the mark.
My head pounds and I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi-trailer, but I can’t stay at the hospital. Doctors were all over me about what meds I’ve been taking and when and how much. Too tired to deal with that, I flick them off promising I’ll address this when I get back to England. When the young doctor looked at me doubtfully, I grinned and said there’s this girl I know who’ll kick my backside if I don’t.