Damon straightened up. “It’s called swimming.” The harsh low grate of his voice almost matched his appearance. His hair was matted, damp and stiff with salt, his t-shirt wet against his chest, the board shorts that once fit so well hung off his hips. He was unshaven again and he needed a haircut. He’d traded sleeping most of the day away to hardly sleeping at all. She’d wake to find the bed empty. He’d be somewhere in the house with his headphones on, music leaching through them, locking himself away again even when he no longer needed to, but this—swimming in the surf on his own—this was a different kind of lashing out.
“You went in without Jamie.”
Damon shrugged. He walked straight at her, knocking her shoulder even as she tried to get out of his way. She followed him through to the kitchen where he got a beer from the fridge, not bothering to ask after anyone else.
He’d had been drinking steadily every evening. None of them had been able to get him interested in leaving the house other than for his specialist appointments, and those he would only do alone, until Jamie suggested the swim.
Watching Damon sip his beer, Jamie said, “Cheers,” rolling his eyes, then his temper got the better of him. “Fuck, Damon.” He looked at her and mouthed the word, sorry. “You could’ve been taken out by a rip, by a fucking shark. How did you even think you were going to find our place on the sand after you got out of the surf?”
“You found me, what are you worried about? I knew you would.”
“Jesus, you dickhead. That was too much of a risk. What if I didn’t? What, tell me what was I supposed to do? The beach is closed after six, there wasn’t anyone around to help.”
“I wasn’t asking for help.” Damon coughed and took a slug of beer. “I was swimming.” He walked to the table, felt for a chair, pulled it out and sat. Georgia kept her distance from him. His voice was so uneven, uncertain, if he’d needed help there’d be no way he could’ve effectively called for it.
Jamie watched him like he was an unexploded grenade. “Are you trying to step it up from drunk to death wish?”
Damon coughed again. He wasn’t meant to be drinking fluids that were too hot or too cold and he knew it, like he knew all his current choices were bad ones. “Are we back in drama class? Dalia would be proud of your performance.”
Jamie jammed fists on his hips. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Damon gave the word gravel rash; it fell from his mouth gutter low, hateful and mean. “You asked me if I wanted a swim. You told me you had to take a call from the car. I knew you’d be back.” His voice failed on those last words, dropping to a whisper. He took a long drag on the bottle then slammed it on the table. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Jamie smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “He doesn’t see what the big deal is.” He looked at Georgia and barked out a laugh, fake and forced, then his eyes shifted to Taylor now standing in the doorway.
“Leave it,” she said, coming into the room. She made a throat slashing movement with her hand, then put it on Damon’s shoulder.
“Leave it?” Jamie’s voice squeaked with incredulity. “Did you not just punch him because he might’ve drowned, and now you want to leave it?”
“We know why this happened.”
Georgia stepped forward from where she’d been standing by the sink. She’d meant to put the kettle on, make tea, make peace, try to get Damon to eat something, now she wanted to stop Taylor and Jamie going at each other in front of him.
“No, we fucking well don’t, and don’t speak for him,” said Jamie.
She was too late.
Damon stood, brushing Taylor aside, knocking the chair over. He stepped wide around it, hiccupped, cleared his throat, went to the fridge, took another beer out and left the room. And all the three of them did was watch him, impotent now, as they had been for the last month, to help him adjust.
Taylor flew at Jamie. “Why did you leave him alone? You’re such an idiot.”
Jamie kept his place, butt against the cupboard, legs stretched out in front, arms folded across his chest. “He’s not a kid.”
“He’s not right in the head.” If Taylor could’ve gotten in Jamie’s face she would’ve, but he was well defended, his limbs a fortress, his expression shut down to grim. “How could you leave him alone like that?”
He pushed off the cupboard and leaned towards her. “Don’t make this about me. How does making this about me help things?”
Taylor’s chin shot up so fast she was courting whiplash. “Oh, God forbid I should make it about you. The perfect corporate machine.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Georgia had missed any chance to stop this. Assuming Damon hadn’t jammed his headphones on, he’d be hearing every word. But it was time every word had a hearing.
Taylor’s chin dropped. “Nothing.” She stepped back. “It means nothing at all.”
Jamie followed, standing straight, stepping towards her. “No, you tell me what that means. What did I do to you?”
“You did nothing to me.”
“So is that the problem? All this time, is that the problem? Did you want something from me, Taylor? If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask.”
She waved a hand, a sneer of displeasure on her face. “I’m out.”
Georgia moved first. She zipped behind Taylor and stood in the kitchen doorway. She half expected to cop a punch. She got, “What’re you doing?”
“Neither of you leave here till you’ve had this out.” She looked over Taylor’s head to Jamie. He wore the same expression Taylor did, anger, but under it fear held together by destitute hope. She focused on Taylor.
“I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Jamie?”
“This is Taylor’s issue.”
Georgia sighed. Neither of them was Jeffrey and there’d already been punching and now that Damon was home, no one was physically in danger. “It’s time to fix this. It’s enough that Damon is in trouble and we don’t know how to help him. Start talking.”
The only sound was the fridge motor. No one moved. “It can’t be that bad,” she said.
Taylor folded her arms, she tapped a foot. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“You’re right. I don’t. And you know the last time I tried this you told me I made things worse. I sure didn’t make them any better. I have a history of making things worse, but I can’t stand here and do nothing. Whatever this is, it’s hurting you both.”
Taylor shook her head and stepped forward. Georgia braced.
Jamie gave. “We were both drunk. You left my bed so fast I figured you were sorry it’d happened, that you had a terminal case of regret.”
Back still to Jamie but surprised eyes on Georgia, Taylor said, “I wasn’t drunk. I’d had one vodka. I left your bed because it shouldn’t have happened and it meant nothing.”
“I wasn’t drunk either, two beers. You know how I remember that, because it was the best night of my life.”
Taylor’s eyes were saucers of shock. She stopped breathing. All of Jamie’s hurt was in the softening of his expression and the fall of his shoulders.
“But you took off, Taylor, you ran so fast, left me nothing to hold on to, and when I got home you didn’t want to know me.”
Taylor turned her head but she wouldn’t face around to Jamie. Georgia didn’t trust her enough to leave her post by the door.
“You were drunk. You were, you had to be, and you were leaving the next day so what did it matter.”
“It mattered to me. It’s about time you tell me why it still matters to you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Then why do you punish me? You can’t even look at me. Angus knows and he won’t tell me. I gave up trying to get it out of him, but I’m not giving up now.”
Taylor turned. Georgia could see the tension in her from the way her elbows bunched in close to her ribs and her collar blades lifted.
“You
’re wasting your time. I’m out.”
Taylor wasn’t getting past her without a fight. She was ready, both arms out to form a barrier in the doorway. “No, you’re not.”
Taylor fumed. “What do you want from me?”
Jamie answered. “The truth.” He was watching out the kitchen window to the darkening yard beyond. He looked beaten.
Taylor turned again. She was anything but beaten, she was on the attack.
“What version of the truth do you want? How about the one where we’re best friends forever, why don’t we go with that one? The one where I grow up worshipping you, and you barely know I exist unless I have a mic and you have a guitar. The one where you sleep with any woman who has a mouth.” Jamie closed his eyes but otherwise stood immaculately still under the onslaught. “You want that truth. How sad. Poor little Taylor thinks she’s in love with her best friend, but happily she grows up and gets over him. There’s the truth for you.” She’d fair hurled it at Jamie. “Happy?”
“You kill me. If you’d have stayed in my bed, I’d have stayed in the country. I’d never have gotten on that plane.”
Taylor marched across the kitchen and pushed Jamie’s shoulder until he faced her. “That’s not true.”
“That’s my version of the truth. The one where I always thought I was too straight for you. Too much accountant. Not enough rock star.”
Taylor shook her head like it was filled with bees. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Why not? It’s the version where my best friend finally let me be more.” Jamie closed his eyes and Georgia considered leaving the room, but she still didn’t trust Taylor not to retreat from the punch of Jamie’s words. “Where my best friend became my lover and I thought I’d found what I needed for the rest of my life, until she dumped me when the sun came up.”
Taylor clutched at her throat. “You lie.”
“It’s the version where I hoped she’d call me, email me, get on a plane and visit, anything to acknowledge that night meant something to her, and I get nothing. And when I man up after all the silence and call her, I get voicemail, ignored emails, more nothing. It’s the version where I call my brother and I ask what’s wrong and he says nothing and I know he’s lying. Let’s go with that version of the truth.”
“No! Jamie, stop. Shut up.”
“No, Trill. No more. Because I’m still living that truth, the one where the only girl I’ve ever loved can’t look at me and I don’t even get to be her friend anymore, just someone she once knew who plays her music to sing with on weekends.”
“You don’t want this truth.”
“I’m standing here in front of you asking for it, like I’ve done a thousand times, a thousand different ways. No plane to catch. No other woman in my life. Shit,” he put a hand to his hair and pulled at it, “I’m almost gay for Sam it’s been so long since I’ve been interested in another woman.”
“You think it’s bad between us now.” Taylor flung her hands out in front of her, either in defeat or she was regrouping. Georgia kept her place in the doorway. “If I tell you, you’ll hate me forever.”
Jamie sighed. “How far off that do you think we are now? How long do you think I can hang in there thinking we might get past this?”
“I got pregnant.”
Jamie’s breath snagged and he reached for Taylor, then just as quickly dropped his arm. Georgia stepped towards them then stopped. What did she think she was going to do?
“Yeah, that’s right. Me pregnant.”
Jamie frowned. “Okay, so—”
“It was yours.”
He shook his head, the movement ricocheted thought his body. “But.”
“You only thought I slept around. You weren’t first, but…” Taylor looked at the floor. “I don’t know how it happened, but you can’t have been quick enough pulling out that first time, and it was enough, it was enough, I got pregnant and I didn’t want a baby and I knew if I told you, you’d quit and come home and want to, I don’t know,” she shifted restlessly, “marry me, do the right thing. I didn’t want to be your right thing. I wanted you to have your career because it wasn’t what you wanted first, but you were trying to make it that way anyway and I loved you enough not to want to stop that.”
“Oh God, Trill.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Jamie went to the table and pulled out the chair he’d righted after Damon knocked it over. He slumped into it, elbows to the table, head in his hands. His breathing stuttered in his throat.
Taylor rounded the table to stand in front of him. “The truth goes like this. I was so sick, sick all the time and Damon was in LA, but Angus knew something was wrong, so I told him and he was good to me. I didn’t tell him it was yours. It was better that way because I wasn’t keeping it. He drove me to the clinic, and he sat with me in the waiting room and when I panicked and changed my mind,” Jamie’s head came up, he stared at Taylor, “he brought me home again and I told him it was yours and I wanted to keep it.”
“Oh my God.”
“He went out to get food. We were going to call you together. You want more of this truth, Jamie, because it goes like this: I felt sick, I’d felt sick all day. I thought it was nerves. I was terrified about aborting the baby and scared to death of keeping it, but it was yours and that’s all that mattered. By the time Angus got back none of that mattered. I lost the baby anyway.”
Jamie stood, the chair barking on the floor. He gripped the table edge. He was having trouble breathing, his mouth open. Georgia felt Damon’s presence behind her and eased into his arms. Tears sat on Taylor’s cheeks and she wiped them away with jerky movements. Someone should’ve gone to her but they were all transfixed.
“There’s more, you want more? If I told you, you’d have come home.”
“Of course I would’ve.” Jamie gasped but the words came out of him as if they were a universal truth, like gravity. He moved around the table to where Taylor stood, but she didn’t let him close.
“And screwed up your career for something else you didn’t choose.”
“But I did choose, Trill.” Jamie moved again and so did Taylor. “I chose you before I even understood what that meant. When we were kids back home and Damon could still see.” He put his hand to his chest and pressed down. “I’ve never not chosen you, but you kept this from me. Angus too. I could’ve been with you.” He pulled out a chair and sat down again abruptly, struggling to catch his breath. “My kid, fuck. This is fucked.”
Damon’s arms tightened on Georgia. This was all news to him as well.
Taylor wiped at her face again. “I made Angus stay quiet. There was no point telling you.”
“There was every point.”
“You’d have quit and come home for nothing.”
“I’d have come home for you. You think I care more about my job than you. Jesus. And you’ve punished me ever since.”
“I didn’t punish you, I was letting you go.”
“Where the fuck was I going?” Jamie’s voice was an agonised wheeze.
“Anywhere you wanted not tied to me.”
“Would that have been so bad, you and me?”
“Yes, because I’m a hopeless failure and you’ve made a good life.” Taylor looked at Damon. “All of you have. I’m living off Damon’s charity. I earn more from Angus than my own gigs, and I can’t give singing up though we all know I’m never going to make it.”
“You were pregnant with my baby and you didn’t tell me.” Jamie stood up, hand to his chest again. He was pale, and wore a dangerous expression and he meant to make use of it. “I’m going to fuck Angus up.”
Damon moved. He released Georgia and stepped around her. He put himself in Jamie’s path.
“Out of my way, Damon.” An odd courtesy, given Jamie could’ve moved around Damon with the ease of a shadow, but that was Jamie, thoughtful, careful, even as he must be devastated.
Damon put a hand out. “Don’t leave it like this.”
�
�They chose this—the two of them.”
“Let him go,” said Taylor. “He’s allergic to me. He’s having an asthma attack. He needs a puffer.”
Damon turned towards Taylor. “Angus has always wanted to tell Jamie, hasn’t he? That’s why you and he were prickly with each other. You didn’t trust…” his voice gave out and he coughed, swore, “What did any of us do to make you not trust us?”
Taylor shook her head. She had her arms folded, but her legs apart, knees bent. Her eyes were wild. She was ready to run, ready to make a stand, ready for anything except kindness. Georgia crossed behind Damon and Jamie and planted herself in front of Taylor.
Taylor’s hands came up to push her away, but their eyes met and Taylor’s refilled with tears.
“Let them care,” Georgia said, softly, like you might to a skittish animal. “Don’t push them away. Angus did keep your secret. You’re so close to Damon, I thought you were in love with him until I worked out that you’re in love with Jamie.”
Taylor’s face crumpled and her knees sagged. Georgia stepped forward and touched her shoulder and in stuttered increments, Taylor came into her arms.
It should’ve been Jamie who was holding her while she broke apart, but Georgia looked around and Jamie had gone.
29: Blown
The band was a sonic scream and someone close was smoking weed and if the security had been tighter Damon would never have been allowed to stand so close to the stage. Georgia seemed to think he was in danger. She’d tried to pull him away from the speakers, but he shook her off. She didn’t get the danger had passed? He was blind. He didn’t have a voice reliable enough to record an answering machine message, let alone a commercial or a movie, and when they re-sectioned his vocal cords, he’d have even less.
If she thought he was in genuine danger of blowing his eardrums, all the better.
But of course, she couldn’t see things like he did. She was a good person. And he wouldn’t drag her down into all his mess. He should’ve broken things off with her already. He’d meant to, but he was a coward so he’d acted like an arsehole instead, being sullen and moody, taking risks like using his voice too much and going swimming alone.
Incapable (Love Triumphs Book 3) Page 27