Twisted Hearts: The Complete Duet

by Max Henry

  “Because my pride isn’t your problem,” I answer simply.

  She’s rigid enough that I swear I could use her as a washboard.

  “Just say it,” I sigh.

  She waits for me to pull away, to give her space—tough shit. I won’t back down this time.

  “I can’t keep doing this, Zeus.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t keep starving myself, worrying if we’ll get our power cut off or if I can stretch the bill another week, stressing about how to feed you both with the shitty amount of groceries I can afford to—”

  “I said, I know.”

  Her breath rushes out her nose, ticking my bicep where my arm lays across her chest. “What if I left it too late?”

  This time I pull back. The pale light cast from Sera’s nightlight across the hall is barely enough to make anything out, but I know she stares straight up at the ceiling, much like I was not so long ago. “Left what too late?”

  Belle twists to face me where I now lie propped up on my elbow. “Establishing a name for myself.” Our legs remain tangled at the knee.

  “Dove, anyone who sees your work is blown away by it. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  She stays mute, and I curse the lack of visibility. “Shut your eyes.” Leaning across Belle, I reach over to her nightstand and tap around for her phone.

  The torchlight sends white radiating across her face after I set the phone back down on its screen.

  “I don’t want to add pressure, babe.” I settle back beside her. “But if you want this to work out, you need to have confidence in yourself.”

  Her throat bobs. “I do.” Belle’s brow bunches. “I mean sort of. Ugh.”

  The sudden sense of deja vu hits me like a rock to the gut. This is the same as she was under her mother, Cerise’s influence. I stare down at the woman I love but recognise the child I knew first. Inside my beautiful babe is a scared kid, still second-guessing her God-given natural talent.

  I’ve never seen anyone pick up a pencil and be able to create magic the same as she does. It was only logical that she’d find a career in something artistic.

  “Dove.” Her gaze finds mine. “Listen to me.” I reach over and smooth the back of my fingers across her cheek. “The only thing you’ll need to worry about is how you’ll fit all the booking requests in.”

  A smile cracks her face, and she huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be that popular. It takes time to build a business, Zeus.”

  Don’t I know it. Talk about pinpointing my biggest fear when it comes to pursuing what I want.

  “Mind over matter,” is all I say instead. “Believe you can do it and you’ll fucking do it.”

  Her smile grows shy. “You honestly think I have that much pull?”

  “Babe.” I snort. “You know as well as I do the guys all harass me about when you’ll be opening up time for them as a favour.”

  She smiles a little more.

  “Believe in the end result, and eventually, you’ll get there.”

  She prods me in the arm, her finger bending against the solidity of my muscle. “Shouldn’t I be saying this to you?”

  “Perhaps.” I shrug my topmost shoulder.

  Belle’s brow dips as she drops a sigh. “I don’t want this to come between us if I do get the loan from Dad.”

  “It won’t.” The bed puffs under my weight as I drop to my back.

  Her concerned frown peeks into my periphery. “Say that again like you mean it.”

  “Dove.” I roll my head her way and implore her with my gaze to let it go.

  It’ll hurt. And yeah, it’ll take time to drop the petty jealousy around it. But Belle doesn’t have to worry.

  I could never stop loving my woman. Not now. Not ever.

  I’m not the wisest or most travelled guy, but I know for sure there is no-one else in this world like her. Not for me, anyway.

  “I hate that we’re here,” Belle whispers, fingers dancing across the lines of my chest. “This isn’t us.”

  “I know.”

  “So why do we let it be?”

  Her rich brown eyes search mine. I bite my lip, studying her face as she does me. “We’re tired, babe. Frustration comes along with the package.”

  “I guess.” She flops to her back also. “It won’t be long.” Silence stretches before she speaks again. “I’ll get my business earning, and once we have an average over six months or so, we’ll go to the bank about your venture.”

  “Try two to three years.”

  “What?” She rolls to face me.

  “The deposit or even savings history I’d need would be two to three years’ worth of work,” I point out. “The bank won’t give me over a hundred thousand on the promise of six months of tattoo work.”

  She has no rebuttal. Good, because I have no interest left in the conversation.

  “Just call your dad tomorrow and jack it all up, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “And dove?”

  “Yeah.”

  I close my eyes and feel her stiffen beside me as I add, “Don’t talk to me about any of it, okay?”

  FIFTEEN

  Belle

  “Thank you so much for this.” I run my eye over the counter one last time to make sure I’ve left notes and instructions on everything she’ll need.

  “It’s fine.” Jodie snorts at my anxiousness. “I’m no stranger to babies, Belle. If you haven’t left me a note, I’ll figure it out.”

  I smile, patting my pockets. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Go.” She nods toward where Dad waits outside. “We’ll be fine.” Her brow lifts, and she peers at me from under her lashes. “I have your number if I need it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I check my phone on the way over to Sera anyway, just to be sure I charged it last night.

  I did what Zeus asked a week ago, and I phoned Dad. And just like he asked, I never told him the result. But I’m sure he knows.

  He’d be blind if he hasn’t noticed me clean out the home studio and prepare it for clients.

  Dad organised second-hand shelves for the garage and bought plastic tubs so I could sort and store all our things in a way that would be easy on the eye, considering I’ll have people nearby. I wiped, swept, and washed the outside of the house and the path until it was near new, eager for the first impression to be a good one.

  Zeus said nothing when he came home last night to a new pathway through our side lawn, leading to the external studio door.

  He said nothing this morning when I phoned Jodie to confirm she could still watch Sera. And he said nothing when he left for work, merely giving me a kiss on the cheek and Sera a ruffle on the head.

  He hates this; I know it. But if we want to move forward, this is the answer.

  I might only get one extra job a week to start with, but if I want to build my new client base at home, then I’ll need to take whatever I can get. Wade knows that I took the work at the shop to earn the capital for my studio. Our unspoken agreement was, though, that I wouldn’t steal his client base in the process.

  I can respect that.

  Today, I pick up the second-hand but near-new condition sterilising equipment I’ll need to set up and test before my first at-home session in two days hence why Dad came to help me out. I need the ute to get it all home; the back seat and boot of my Honda not large enough to fit it all in its boxes.

  “Got the address details?” Dad asks when I jump into the passenger side.

  I lift my phone between us. “All in the email.”

  “Good.” He pulls out of our driveway, pausing before entering the road.

  I can’t deny the pang of worry that swirls in my chest at leaving Sera with Jodie. I have no concerns that Zeus’s ex-wife will have it under control. It’s just the first time I’ve been away from her for more than the half-hour it takes to do a quick run to the shops.

  “Can we do a quick stop off somewhere else on the way?”

 
Dad glances over. “Sure. Where do you need to go?”

  I swallow away my fears and answer. “The daycare on Richardson Road.”

  I can tell he watches me in my periphery. “Sera booked in for next week, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Why does this feel so hard?

  If I counted the times on my hands that I’ve wished for a few hours to myself just to be Belle again, I’d run out of fingers. And yet, here I am, on my way to organise freedom and I want to weep at the thought of relinquishing my child to the trust of strangers.

  “I wasn’t able to print off the forms they emailed me, so they said I could just drop in and fill them out. Sign it off.”

  “Have you organised the subsidy for it?”

  Is my dad seriously asking penny-pincher me if I forgot to apply for free money? “Of course.”

  “Good. Good.” He takes the right turn that leads down to where Sera will spend three days a week while I colour people’s skin for income.

  Any less and the pay-off wasn’t worth it. As it is, I’ll have to keep full days booked to cover the cost of childcare and come out the other side with a few hundred to shake at the bills.

  I can’t see me saving for Zeus’s career shift any time soon. We have to get our head back above water first.

  “You want me to come in with you?” Dad asks as he eases into a vacant parking space.

  I eye the colourfully painted building and chew the inside of my cheek. “I should be okay.” No need to have any more of an audience than necessary if I crack it.

  The sun peeks between the grey clouds overhead as I step out of the ute, casting a golden glow in a strip across the parking lot to the door. It’s ridiculous but comforting at the same time, as though affirmation that I do the right thing. I follow the bright line, relishing the feel of the heat on my skin, warming me to the bone. With so much body fat loss of late, I’ve felt every damn chill and draft right to the core.

  I never thought I’d say it, but I can’t wait to put some meat on my curves again to provide a little extra protection against the bite of winter.

  I let myself through the safety gate and ring the doorbell beside the locked door. My memories of Kindy when I was little are few and foggy, but what I do recall is that our door never had a key card lock on it. Hell, we didn’t have the safety gates, or the security camera pointed at our face while we waited to go inside, either.

  Making the centre look like a prison sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier to think of leaving Sera here for eight hour stretches at a time.

  “Hello.” A warm and curious woman with a messy bun piled on her head greets me after the door swings inward.

  She doesn’t move to let me inside.

  “Are you visiting?”

  “Signing on my daughter. I phoned last week.”

  “Oh!” Her smile widens, and she steps back. “Belle, right?”

  “Yeah.” I’m greeted with the chatter and squeals of happy kids as they play in their classrooms. Do you call them classrooms at this age?

  “I’ll grab the forms. Once we have everything signed off, I’ll get you a code and a card so you can let yourself in.”

  “Does my partner need his own as well, or can he use mine?” I give an internal tick of approval to the high door handles and lack of anything stored below knee height.

  “He’ll need his own.” The smile melts off her face. “We have strict rules around entry due to the familial disputes that some attendees of the centre have.”

  Oh Oh. Of course. I nod like a good girl as the reality of how much worse my situation could be is laid out before me. At least Sera has two parents who get along and live together … at this stage.

  If Zeus keeps up his jealous silent treatment, I’m not sure how long our unit will stay intact. I know he said he’d get over it and that his feelings aren’t my burden to bear, but damn, I want my man back.

  If I wanted to live with a shell of a partner who was there for no more than a bedwarmer at night, I would have stayed with Damien.

  I blaze through the forms, amazed at the sheer amount of information required. The pen scratches across the paper as I sign away Sera’s time and become an official working mother. The centre manager hands me a key card and a slip of paper with the door entry code printed in large bold lettering.

  I return to Dad’s ute feeling strangely hollow with the foreign plastic in my hand.

  “No problems?” I get a lift of his brow as he turns the sportscast on the radio down.

  “No.” I bury the reminder in the bottom of my bag to deal with later. “I’ll message the guy and say we’re on the way now.”

  The vehicle doesn’t move.

  “What?” I frown a little. Why the hell is Dad staring at me like that?

  “Talk about it, Belle.”

  “Talk about what?” My thumb coasts over the screen of the phone.

  “What’s the matter?” He shifts into gear and slowly eases out toward the road. “You’re more in your head than usual.”

  “I’m not in my head.”

  “Aren’t you?” He pointedly flicks a slip of cardboard balanced on the dash.

  I don’t need to read the scripted lettering to know what it is. Oh, my God.

  “I put that there while I waited for you at your house.” He lifts it, eyes on the road, and drops it in my lap. “And you haven’t said a thing. I don’t think you even noticed it.”

  He’s right—I hadn’t. Pinching the glossy card between my fingers, I stare at the gorgeous contrast of the rose-gold foil against the black background. “Yeah, okay. I’ve been distracted.” My thumb skims the date. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you approve?” His hands squeeze the steering wheel.

  I stare at him, wide-eyed. “What does it matter what I think? Are you happy?”

  He nods to the invite. “I said I’d marry her, didn’t I?” He grins. “I think that makes me happy.”

  Back up. “You said you’d marry her,” I clarify. “Dad! Were you not the one to ask?”

  “Sharon asked me. Leap year, Belle. Different rules.”

  Wait a minute. “We’re midway through July,” I point out. “Have you been engaged since February? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugs. “We hadn’t found the right opportunity, and then after time dragged on, Sharon and I figured we’d skip the whole engagement gig and just invite everyone to the wedding.” His face falls. “Not that there are many people to ask.”

  “You don’t need a huge guest list to validate it, Dad.”

  He nods, relaxing in his seat while we wait at a red light. “You’re right. All that matters are that those we love attend.”

  He’s holding back. I can tell because he won’t look at me. His eyes narrow while he studies the cars lined up across the intersection from us.

  “Now you’re the one who’s in his head,” I tease.

  He snaps his gaze to me, and a slow smile spreads as the light turns green. “No fooling you, is there?”

  “After so many years of it just being us, I think we have a pretty good gauge on one another, don’t you think?”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners, focus back to ferrying us to where my new not-so-new equipment awaits. “I was worried for a while that you might not want to join us,” he states. “You and Zeus have been distant, and until the other day, I had no idea why.”

  “He’s finding it hard,” I admit before I have time to censor my traitorous mouth.

  Zeus’s grief with Dad is his to share; I shouldn’t have said anything.

  “I know.”

  My shoulders relax, the buzz of betrayal dying off in my limbs. “Really? What did he say?”

  “That he can’t stand the idea of me helping him like I’m trying to be his father.”

  So much for not saying a lot when they were outside. “What else?”

  “Nothing.” Dad hesitates to focus on merging into another lane. “I understand where he’s coming from, but t’s hard to step ba
ck and let him do it all himself.” Dad frowns. “Yes, he’s my age, and so he judges his success, or lack of, on what he sees me doing. But Zeus has to remember that he may as well write off the ten or so years he spent fucking around with the wrong crowd. He might be in his late thirties, but life experience-wise, he’s in his mid-twenties at best. He has a few years of progress to catch up on.”

  I didn’t think of it that way. I know Zeus struggles with his need to more-or-less start anew when he divorced Jodie, but Dad has a solid point. While he began a family and settled into his career, Zeus drifted in and out of trouble with the law, struggling to hold down a job.

  He might be reformed now, but you can’t escape your past by wishing it away.

  “This is why you didn’t want us together, isn’t it?” I stare out the side window, not particularly interested in the answer.

  “He tries hard,” Dad says gently. “But he’s still got a lot to learn.”

  “You talk about him as though he’s a child,” I snap.

  “Are his actions lately anything else?”

  “Yes.” They’re the desperate attempts of a man who is tired of people treating him just like Dad is now. “His pride might be what makes him stubborn,” I explain. “But his insecurity is what means he won’t ask you for help.”

  Dad glances my way with a confused frown.

  My heart aches as I lay it out for him. “Zeus wants nothing more than to prove to you he can do what you said he couldn’t: take care of me. He wants to make you proud, Dad. He wants his friend to care about him and admire him.”

  “I do care about him.”

  “Bullshit.” I glare at the side of my father’s face. “You care about me. If he were doing this with anyone else, you would have abandoned him long ago.”

  “If he was doing this with anyone else,” Dad grumbles, “then we never would have fallen out, to begin with.”

  “And whose fault was that?” I signal I’ve said my part by folding my arms across my chest.

  He grips the steering wheel tighter.

  The awkward silence extends until Dad relents and admits he doesn’t know where he needs to go. “What’s the address again?”

  I punch the screen of my phone and then reach across to snap it in his handsfree clip. The robotic woman on my map app directs him on where to go.