by Amanda Dick
Jack blinked, coming back to reality with a jolt. “But it didn’t, did it? It didn’t ignite. Maybe I imagined it? Maybe there was no gas, maybe it was all in my head?”
“You didn’t imagine it!” Callum rasped sharply, tears gathering in his eyes. “I smelt it too – for God’s sake, this isn’t helping. Remember what the doc said? When she wakes up, she’s gonna need you. If she sees you like this it’s just gonna freak her out. You need to get a grip!”
Jack stared back at him, dumbstruck. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he couldn’t stand there in front of Ally and tell her that because of what he did, she was never going to walk again. He couldn’t apologise – there were no words for what he had done. And what did it matter anyway? Words wouldn’t fix it, nothing would. His whole body went numb as the realisation coursed through his veins, eating away at his insides, hollowing him out.
The door opened then, and it felt like time had slowed down again. His father appeared and at the look of anguish on his face, Jack broke down.
“Son,” he said simply, and then Jack was freefalling into his arms.
CHAPTER 9
“Not everything that is faced can be changed.
But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
- James Arthur Baldwin
Jack climbed into his car and sat there, staring into the darkness.
She wants me to stay.
He felt light-headed for a moment before joy quickly turned to uncertainty. He had convinced himself that she was going to send him away – and why not? What could she possibly see in him that he couldn’t see in himself? He didn’t deserve this. How would he ever prove to her that he was worthy of it if he didn’t truly believe it himself? How was he going to change things?
Get a grip. Don’t do this.
He couldn’t screw this up, not again. There was too much riding on it now. The strength in Ally’s voice as she talked about her injury had been in direct contrast to the look in her eyes. He was under no illusion that it was as straightforward as she made it sound. One thing was for certain, he had a lot to catch up on.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, declining the call and tossing it onto the passenger seat. It wasn’t the first time Ben had tried contacting him and probably wouldn’t be the last. He vowed to pick up a new phone, and soon.
Listening to the engine idling, he contemplated his next move. He had no idea how this would go but he had promised Ally he would try, so try he would. He pulled away from the curb and into the darkness, headlights illuminating the road ahead.
Driving through town, the roads were more or less deserted as he left the streetlights behind, detouring from the main road and onto a quiet side street. He hadn’t been to Callum’s house in years, but he drove on autopilot, as if he were here just yesterday. He pulled over to the curb opposite the last house on the street and sat in the car, staring at it. The house was dark and Callum’s car was nowhere in sight. What had happened to Callum’s van? He had put so much work into getting it on the road, he found it hard to believe he would ever part with it, yet apparently he had.
He could tell from the way Ally talked about him that they were close and while he understood why, it still hurt. He had to keep reminding himself that he had walked away – Callum hadn’t. It made sense, their bond. He swallowed down the jealousy he knew he had no right to feel. He had to work at gaining their trust back, and that was exactly what he was planning to do.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled away from the curb. Callum wasn’t at home so that meant he would have to go looking for him. Barney’s was his first stop. He hadn’t been inside since he returned to town but he was willing to play the odds. He started to sweat. Barney’s was familiar territory and he had purposefully avoided any such places since the debacle at the funeral. The curtain-twitching going on next door every time he left the house was getting on his nerves. What sort of reception would he get here?
Callum glanced up from the sink as the men’s room door creaked open. Andy McLeish stood in the doorway, wearing a self-satisfied smirk that Callum immediately wanted to punch off his face. Instead, he grabbed a paper towel and quickly dried his hands, tossing it into the tin bucket in the corner.
“Well, look who it is,” Andy purred.
“What the hell do you want? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Why? Am I making you nervous?”
“Nope,” he mumbled, pushing past Andy irritably. “But the smell of bullshit in here is making me gag.”
Andy grabbed Callum’s arm as he passed, twisting it up behind his back and pushing him up against the wall. Callum’s face smacked into the hardboard paneling as Andy pinned him in place, pain shooting up his arm.
“Careful,” Andy breathed in his ear. “That was almost assault. Wouldn’t that be a violation of your probation?”
Callum breathed heavily through his nose, his temper rising with every heartbeat. Just as he was sure he wasn’t able to rein it in any longer, Andy let him go and stepped back. Slowly, Callum turned to face him, flexing his hand and ignoring the dull ache in his elbow. He glanced at Andy out of the corner of his eye and turned to head straight for the door.
“I saw her the other day, on the street. She didn’t see me, but I got a good look at those skinny little legs in action. Much hotter than the wheelchair – you can tell her I said that, too.”
Callum stopped in his tracks, one hand on the door, not daring to turn around. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His lungs felt like they were sitting in his throat.
“I mean, there’s no doubt that the sex would still be weird, but I’m willing to bet that she could do other things just as well as normal chicks – maybe even better. I mean, is it kinda like blind people having great hearing? Y’know, other senses compensating for the one that’s gone? Something like that.”
Callum’s teeth clenched together so hard he thought his jaw was going to break. The image of Andy anywhere near Ally made his skin crawl. He turned around to face him, barely able to contain his temper. His face felt like it was on fire as they circled each other in the small bathroom. Callum’s fists clenched in anticipation. What he wouldn’t give to knock that cocky smile right off his ugly face.
Andy raised his eyebrows at him and threw his hands up in mock surrender, almost inviting him to hit him. Callum seriously considered it for a moment. Then he realised what was happening and knew he had to get out of there. Andy had positioned himself in front of the door again, smiling.
“Get out of my way,” he hissed, elbowing him aside and shoving the men’s room door open so hard it rebounded off the wall.
He stopped in his tracks as the door swung behind him. Jack stood at the bar, beer untouched in front of him.
“Hey!” Andy yelled, addressing Harry, the bartender. “You can’t do that – that was assault! Did you see that?”
“See what?” Harry turned his back and ambled down to the other end of the bar. Callum couldn’t help but smirk. Harry, in his usual straightforward way, was letting Andy know exactly what he thought of him. After what happened in court, Andy didn’t have many friends in here.
“He pushed me!”
Callum ignored him as he walked towards the bar stool he had vacated minutes earlier, reaching for his jacket.
Jack nodded at the half-finished beer on the bar in front of Callum. “I’ve never known you to walk away from a beer.”
“Yeah well, times change.”
“Hey!” Andy called. “Ferguson! We’re not done yet!”
Callum could feel the anger welling up inside him. He pushed open the door out into the street and fished his car keys out of his pocket.
“Ferguson!”
He heard the door creak open again behind him, Andy’s voice hanging in the cool night air. Sighing, he stopped. Clearly, this wasn’t going to just go away.
“What do you want?” he demanded, turning to face him.
Andy smiled, happy to
have his full attention again. The street was deserted. Could he risk it? It’d certainly be worth it.
“Look, I can see why you’re sweet on her. I mean, she’s pretty, and with her legs being all screwed up like that, she’d be grateful for the attention. But if you don’t make a move soon, I’m gonna beat you to it and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
“I’m not gonna tell you again. Stay away from her.”
“Or what?”
Callum’s fists clenched at his side. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sounds like a threat to me,” Andy chuckled.
“Whatever, man,” Callum turned his back on him again. Andy’s hand on his shoulder immediately sent his blood pressure soaring but before he could react, Andy had spun him around to face him.
“I’m not done with you, Ferguson.”
“Take your hands off me, you piece of shit!” Callum growled, shrugging his hand off him and taking a step closer in one fluid movement. “If you ever touch me again, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens to you, understand? I will do jail time for what I do to you and it’ll be freakin’ worth it, got that?”
He stared into Andy’s face a moment longer, mentally tying his fists to his sides so they wouldn’t reflexively jab up and under Andy’s chin. Andy stared right back at him, not moving a muscle.
“I don’t know how we got off to such a bad start,” Andy said evenly. “We got a lot in common. I mean, just look at her – we’re obviously both into the kinky shit. Now, I can’t speak for you, but I would definitely consider tapping that once, at least. Call it curiosity or whatever, but I’d go there. I mean, can she even feel anything down there? Cos if not, maybe foreplay isn’t really necessary y’know? Or maybe that’s out of the question completely – could be that she’s more of a giver than a taker, if you catch my –”
Suddenly, Andy careened away from him in a tangle of arms and curses. Jack bulldozed him across the pavement and slammed him up against the nearest wall, face-first. Callum, his brain struggling to make sense of what just happened, could only stand and watch as Jack leaned in close to Andy, whispering something. Then he spun him around to face him, punching him so hard that Andy’s head rebounded off the wall with a sickening crack.
Callum stood, frozen, as the scene unfolded before him. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that wasn’t Jack, but someone else. As long as he had known him, Jack had never been a fighter. He was the voice of reason, Callum was the one with the temper. Watching him now, though, Callum could see that something had changed.
“That’s assault!” Andy gasped, blood pouring out of his nose and dripping off his chin. “You’re gonna be sorry you did that – just like he was!”
Jack glanced over at Callum and his blood ran cold. What the hell was going on?
Jack turned his attention back to Andy, punching him again and sending him careening sideways. He reached down to haul him to his feet before driving a hammer punch into his ribs, doubling Andy over.
Callum tried to reconcile the Jack that stood over Andy now, with the friend he once knew. The two seemed worlds apart. As teenagers, they had brawled once, and it had been while Jack’s mother was going through chemo. Jack hadn’t had the skill or experience that Callum had, and it was over with one punch. Callum had put it down to stress and they never spoke about it again.
But this was different. He hadn’t had time to think about it at the funeral, but watching him now gave him chills. Jack fought like a pro – he knew where to hit, when to hit and when to dodge. His body moved differently. He seemed calm, even when he delivered a blow. He was calculated. It was chilling.
Jack hauled Andy to his feet yet again and pushed him out into the street. Andy staggered, hunched over with his arm held close to his ribs. He glanced up at Callum briefly, blood pouring from his nose, dark in the streetlight, before stumbling down the street towards his car.
“Why’d you do that?” Callum asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jack cradled the knuckles of one hand in the palm of the other. “He deserved it.”
Callum stared at him, trying to read him.
“I heard what he said, about Ally,” Jack added. “He’s an asshole, nailed to a pair of feet.”
Callum smiled in spite of himself. That was Tom’s expression and they both knew it.
“I don’t know about you,” Jack said finally. “But I could do with a drink.”
Callum nodded slowly, the blood still rushing in his ears. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn it was nerves. He had no idea what had happened to Jack in the last four years, but the guy standing in front of him wasn’t the Jack he thought he knew. This guy could hold his own in a fight. This guy had an almost dangerous air about him, hidden right beneath the surface. This guy had some explaining to do.
“Yeah,” he said. “I could do with a drink right now myself.”
Jack sat in a booth inside Barney’s, rubbing his aching knuckles. Callum waited at the bar, while Harry poured their drinks.
The bar was almost empty, except for a guy Jack thought he recognised propping up the bar, and a couple of guys he didn’t know playing pool across the other side of the room. One of them laughed loudly and Jack cringed as the sound echoed through the room. He couldn’t help but think that he and Callum used to spend hours in here playing pool, just like them. Life seemed to be split into two distinct chapters: before the accident, and after the accident. It seemed like it was a defining moment, for all of them. After that, everything changed.
Callum walked towards him with two beers in one hand, and two shot glasses in the other. He set them down on the table and sat down opposite him. Without a word, both men picked up the shot glasses and downed them in a single gulp. Jack glanced up at Callum as the fiery liquid burnt its way down his throat, wondering what was supposed to happen next.
He had come in here with a plan, but the fight outside the bar had upturned everything and he wasn’t sure what to do now.
He rolled the empty shot glass between his palms on the table. “Who was that guy?”
“Andy McLeish. Works at the mill.”
“He’s got a mouth on him,” Jack set the shot glass aside and picked up his beer instead, taking a quick swig.
“He has.”
An ice pack appeared on the table in front of him and Jack glanced up to see Harry walking back towards the bar.
“Thanks,” he called after him, picking it up and easing it onto his knuckles with a wince. “What was he talking about out there – something about me being sorry, like you were?”
“That’s part of his charm,” Callum said sarcastically, before taking a mouthful of beer and setting the bottle down on the table again. “If being a dickhead was an Olympic sport, he’d be a gold medalist, several times over. He said something about Ally a while ago and I pretty much reacted the same way you just did. He pressed charges, I ended up in court. I’m on probation and he knows it. It was worth it, though.”
“Probation?”
“Good behaviour bond. And some anger management bullshit.”
Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Callum took a hurried swallow from his beer bottle. “So enough about that. I thought you’d be long gone by now. Why are you still here?”
The smile faded. “I heard what you said the other night, and I get it. I messed up and there’s no changing that. But I meant what I said – I’m not going anywhere. And if that means you want to take a swing at me again, fine. Go for it, I deserve it, and a hell of a lot more besides. Shit, if it’ll make you feel better, beat me to a pulp. I won’t stop you.” Callum raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to interrupt. Jack beat him to it. “But we’re still gonna have to talk about this when you’re done.”
Callum surveyed him from across the table, taking his time. “What the hell happened to you? Where’d you go?”
He was prepared for animosity, reflexive anger, wisecracks
and whole lot more besides. He wasn’t expecting sincerity.
“What do you mean?” he asked, buying time to think.
“I mean, where have you been all this time? And that – outside, with Andy – where the hell did that come from? What happened to you?”
“Didn’t Dad tell you?”
“I stopped asking. He acted like you were in Witness Protection.”
In spite of himself, Jack smiled; a sad smile that tore at his heart. Would it always feel like this when someone mentioned his father? Like a little piece of his heart was being ripped out?
He chose to ignore the last part of Callum’s question, and instead concentrated on the first part.
“All over,” he said, discarding the ice pack. “I moved around, went where the work was.”
He could feel the questions building as he clamped his teeth tightly together, hoping that would be enough. He knew it wasn’t, he knew he owed him more. But it felt like it was too soon to be talking about any of this. He didn’t need Callum judging him any more than he already was, especially when the full story was nothing to be proud of.
Callum’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Well, if those questions are too hard, let’s start with something easy. What are you doing here, tonight? Looking for me or just felt like getting out and about for old times’ sake?”
“I’ve been talking to Ally.”
He steeled himself, but Callum’s expression remained neutral. “Really.”
“Will you just hear me out?”
Callum’s response was to take a swig of beer. Jack took this as a sign of acquiescence so he barreled ahead before he lost his nerve completely.
“Something Ally said to me tonight really struck a chord. She said the only thing we can control is the present and the future. She’s right – the past is past, nothing I can do will change what I did. And I guess that’s why I’m here. I want to be there for her, from now on. I missed my chance with Dad and that’s something I’m gonna have to live with, but I don’t want to make the same mistake with Ally, or with you. I don’t want you to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it. I don’t even deserve to ask for it, so I’m not going to. I just want you to let me be there for her. That’s it, that’s all I’m asking for. Don’t fight me on this, please? I want to make a difference, here and now and as long as she’ll let me.”