by Lisa Swallow
Deep down, I know why. I want to talk to somebody about Hannah, take her from my head and put her in the world, hear what somebody else thinks of my situation. Avery is the wrong person to tell, but she’s the only one I can talk to. An egotistical part of me thought Avery would be okay with the situation and would wait for me to sort myself out. Wait for us.
The hurt girl staring back at me, failing to hide the tears in her eyes doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m a bastard for leading her on and not admitting to myself this is what would happen.
“Okay. Well, I know now. I think it’s best if we stop whatever the hell we’re doing here,” Avery says stiffly and stands. She looks around for her bag.
Fear grips me, fear Avery will walk out of my life and take all the recent happiness with her.
Too late.
“Avery.” She stops with her hand on the door. “Wouldn’t you hate me more if I’d pretended I could give you more, so I got to indulge my obsessive desire for sex with you?”
Avery giggles which confuses the hell out of me. “No, it hurts more because I thought I had a chance. If this had been about sex, at least I wouldn’t have been strung along for two weeks. One night and it would’ve been over.”
“So you would’ve?”
She glances back. “I guess you’ll never know.”
At this moment, I hate myself more than if I’d used her, because in a way I have, much more than if I’d screwed her. I fucked with her feelings.
“I’m so sorry, cariad.”
She bites hard on her lip as tears fill her eyes. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your cariad. I never was.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
MARCH 2015
BRYN
Berlin. Six weeks of touring and we’re two dates from heading home for our final gigs in the UK, then another break. Already, I’m debating what the hell to do. Immersed in my Blue Phoenix world over the past weeks has led to a mix of emotions. The new tightness of the band is awesome; a sober Jem and his re-forged relationship with Dylan pushed us into performances to remember.
But the routine is about to end again and that curbs the happiness. The three guys and their girls have big things happening in their lives; there’s no album or tour planned for at least a year so we’ll go our separate ways again. Ruby Riot is heading back to the studio to record, but with Ruby and Jem’s happy announcement, Jem’s insisted no touring for them until next year.
Leaving me. Drummers aren’t known for their solo gigs; I toy with the idea of hooking up with Chainsaw Babies, and Ruby Riot wants me to session for them. I can ground myself in my music world somehow and forget about the emptiness without the boys.
A few months ago, my plans involved Hannah and Australia. Still attempting to come to terms with the end of my dreams of a future with my forever girl, I gradually switch off from what could never happen. We haven’t communicated since November and I’m impressed with myself for not attempting to. One stupid part of me refuses to give in and accept this fully; she came back once before, maybe she’ll do it again?
Avery. Some days I forget she’s no longer a phone call away. Funny things happen on tour; situations Avery would share my amusement at, while everybody else thinks my sense of humour is odd. Like today, during a TV interview, a mix up of words caused by language barriers led to some unintended innuendo. I followed the joke, wound up the interviewer, and wanted to tell Avery and make her laugh.
Unlikely, when the last time I saw Avery I made her cry.
When Avery enters my head more frequently than Hannah so does my realisation how I fucked up the situation with Avery, intensifying my regret over leading her on like I did. Avery had a part in that though; she wasn’t upfront with me either. We both fooled ourselves that our relationship was a temporary thing we could easily walk away from. I denied the growing bond with Avery and the effect she was having on my life.
I attempted to call Avery a few times over the last weeks but she didn’t answer my messages. I don’t blame her, tangling our lives again wouldn’t help.
Avery left that night because I never asked her to stay, and in the quiet moments that pull memories of her into my day, I realise how stupid I was to let Avery go. But I did the right thing. If I can’t give Avery my heart, I have no right to take hers.
****
Tegan got her own way, my sister tours with us and despite my hardest efforts and veiled threats, something is going on between her and Ruby Riot lead guitarist, Jax. I’ve warned him what will happen, with specific details, if he fucks around with her heart. Look at me, hypocrite of the year. Maybe, while they’re together, Jax won’t stray; but once they’re apart again, I bet things change.
That will be his funeral. He took the step into her bed and my little sister is worth more than him. A lot more.
Tegan checks in with me around the same time every day, usually to inform me what she’s doing. I’ve backed off watching her every move as the tour has progressed, but we catch up daily. Tegan has a key card in case she wants to get into my room, so I’m not surprised when she appears in the doorway with two bottles of fancy sparkling water in one hand and a huge bag of crisps in her teeth. Dressed in yoga pants and a purple tank top, long-brown hair scraped from her face into a ponytail, I guess she’s either on her way to or from the gym.
She heads over and drops the bag onto my lap before handing me a water.
“Today’s the day, Bryn.”
I’m instantly on alert. “For what?”
“For you to tell me what is going on in there.” She taps her forefinger on my head.
“Nothing.” I open the bag of crisps.
“Well, if you’re too big a guy to talk about this with the others, talk to your baby sister. You always used to.”
“Yeah, mostly because you had no clue who or what I was talking about. Now you’re older, you do and it’s my business.”
Tegan sits and shuffles along the sofa and leans against me. “Fine.”
The following silence is filled with the sound of munching as we share the crisps.
“Cerys said it was girl trouble,” Tegan says matter-of-factly.
“Did she,” I mutter.
“Said you were with a girl in England before you left and now you’re not.”
“Yours and Cerys’s detective skills are impressive.” Bubbles fizz to the neck of the bottle as I unscrew the lid on the lime-flavoured water.
“As is your sarcasm. Tell me; is this moody, unhappy guy because of a girl?”
Ignoring her, I switch on the TV, drowning her out with a local soap opera. Why do I refuse to talk to anybody about this – Avery, Hannah, anything in my life? I’m used to doling out the advice and being on hand to listen to others, but if anybody tries to get into my psyche, I shut down.
“Is this all because of Hannah?”
I stiffen. “Who?”
“Hannah Evans. The girl who moved to Australia.”
“Why the hell would it be about her?”
“A couple of years ago, you started going to Australia and then you suddenly stopped. No girlfriends for two years then this chick…”
“Avery.” I look back at her from the TV. “How did you know when I was going to Australia?”
“Bryn, I’m your nosey little sister.”
“Stalker.”
“Sister. I notice these things. Plus, Mum told me a couple of times.”
“Mum? What the hell?” Yeah, the media radar never picked up my overseas trips but, of course, Mum would.
She ignores me. “So, what happened?”
“I made a mistake.”
“With Hannah? Or Avery?”
“Leave it, Tegan!”
“Let me think about that.” She taps the bottle with her fingernails. “Nope. Tell me.”
“Jesus! Haven’t you got somewhere to go? Not seeing Jax tonight?”
“Not until you tell me why you’re this unhappy. When I arrived at the beginning of the tour, I thoug
ht you were in a bad mood with me but it’s more than that. I know you. I see behind your mask even if nobody else does.”
Draining the bottle, I pointedly set it on the table. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. You’re hurting.”
“For fuck’s sake! Tegan!”
I stand and she stands too. “Are you with Hannah? Or were you?”
I drag a hand through my curls. “You’re like a dog with a bloody bone!”
“Subtlety has never been my strong point.”
We glower at each other. “Excuse me, Bryn, but you have spent too much time trying to interfere in my life the last couple of months, using the excuse you were helping me. Now I’m returning the favour.”
She crosses her arms. My ‘favour’ pissed Tegan off, but she understood where my overprotectiveness came from. From that, I understand why she’s reciprocating.
“Fine. Yes, I was with Hannah for a while and now I’m not.”
“And Avery?”
“Same.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Cerys said…”
“Jesus! Is everybody dissecting my life?”
“No, she’s worried about you.” Tegan’s face softens into concern. Have I been transparent about this without realising?
“Nobody needs to worry. I can sort my own shit out.”
“How come you were with Hannah? That doesn’t make sense! She left your life years ago.”
“We found each other again.”
Tegan shakes her head. “Pfft. Never liked her.”
“Only because she was taking up my time and you were a jealous little kid.”
“Whatever.”
I roll my eyes at her useless comeback.
“Which girl do you want?” she continues.
“Tegan! Bloody stop this!”
“Fine.” She brushes crumbs from her top. “Something is making you a miserable bastard. If you want my opinion…”
“Which I haven’t asked for.”
“…decide if it’s worth giving all your emotional energy to relationships you’re not in, and find one you want to be in.” Tegan suddenly hugs me tightly. “The right person can give you energy instead of draining you; make the world a positive place. You deserve to be happy, find somebody who makes you love and laugh.”
“Thanks, Dr Phil.” I peel her arms from around my chest.
“Fine. I came to see if you’re coming out this evening.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Tegan nods and heads for the door before pausing. She looks back at me. “Who do you dream about? Before you fall asleep and when you wake up in the morning, do you think about somebody? I do.”
“Goodbye, Tegan,” I say firmly.
She gives me a small wave before dragging open the heavy door and heading out. Before the door closes, Tegan pokes her head around. “I’m Team Avery. She made you smile. I saw the pictures.”
I throw the empty water bottle in Tegan’s direction and it hits the door closing behind my interfering little sister and her home truths.
Team Avery?
So am I.
Chapter Twenty-Three
AVERY
I look at the plane ticket resting on the dining room table in front of me.
A flight to Paris. This weekend.
Is Bryn taking the piss after what he did and said to me? We haven’t spoken for two months and now this.
I pick up the card with trembling fingers and stare at his words.
‘I want to see you.’
Does Bryn really think he can send plane tickets as a grand gesture and expect me to change my mind? I pull up the Blue Phoenix tour dates on my phone. Germany tonight and a concert in Paris next week.
I almost deleted his number the day I realised I’d inadvertently given Bryn my heart when he gave it back to me torn in two. He’s attempted to contact me a few times over the last six weeks but, angry and upset, I refused to answer. Nothing could change what he told me and I’m not prepared to compete with his impossible ideal woman. Forgetting about him is easier. Theoretically. Ignoring him is no longer an option. I send Bryn a text.
There’s no response for a couple of hours and eventually a message arrives while I’m eating dinner.
The phone rings less than a minute later, his name on my caller ID unleashing a flood of emotion. Shakily, I answer the phone.
“It’s Bryn.”
“I know.”
“You got my present then?”
“A nice gesture but I can’t accept.”
“Why? I thought all girls wanted to go to Paris?”
“I don’t like big cities.”
“You live in London!”
“Other big cities,” I mutter, aware I’ve been caught out.
I take a ragged breath. “Why are you doing this, Bryn?”
“Because I miss you. I want to see you.”
I struggle for a response to his forthright answer. “Right.”
“Cariad, come to France. Have some fun with me and let me talk to you. If after the weekend you feel the same as now, fine, but at least you’ve had a holiday.”
I don’t hear anything after he uses the word ‘cariad’. “Don’t call me that.”
“Avery, come and see me. Or are you scared of flying? You could get the train.”
“I’m not scared of flying. I’m scared of getting hurt.”
He sighs. “I’ve thought about things a lot and I need to talk to you.”
I waver at the image of reuniting with Bryn, but remembering the useless tears I cried over him pushes them away. “Maybe when you get back to England. Call me then.”
“You may be cute, but you’re bloody stubborn,” he replies.
“You may be a hot rock star, but you broke my heart.”
“Don’t say that,” he says softly. “I don’t send just any girl plane tickets and I’m not in the habit of phoning girls who say no to ask them to change their mind.”
I want to blurt ‘apart from Hannah’ but what would be the point?
When the call ends, I remain frozen in the moment of Bryn calling to say he wants to see me. Does he seriously think I’ll drop everything and run back into his arms?
And do I seriously think I can say no to him?
****
The strong floral fragrance assaults my sinuses as I step into the house, and I fight back a sneeze. I drop my bag on the floor by the door and head into the lounge. A huge bunch of pink and white lilies in a tall glass vase sits next to two more on the small dining table. The sweet scent of the first bouquet Bryn sent masked the musty smell lingering since the house flooded, but three days of deliveries and the fragrance overpowers everything.
“More flowers?” I ask.
Michelle looks around. “Where are they all coming from? Does your boyfriend own a florist?”
The envelope attached to the vase has my name on, and I pull out the card.
‘If the flowers don’t work, I’m sending kittens’.
“Crap,” I mutter because I’m dealing with Bryn here and I can’t be sure he’s joking.
“Your guy is keen. Who is he again?”
Oh, just a rock star. “Bryn and he’s not my guy anymore.”
“He obviously wants to be.” Michelle returns to watching her reality TV show. “Romantic.”
Three days since I refused Bryn’s offer of a trip to Paris, three days of texts and flowers. What next? Possibly kittens. Then what? Puppies?
In the kitchen, I rest against the counter and pull out my phone.
Five minutes later I get a response:
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br /> I half-laugh to myself, at how I had the measure of him.
He’s messing with my head. Shaking him out of my mind, I pull out the ingredients to prepare a chilli for dinner. Ordinary. Real life. As I fry the minced beef, I stare out of the dirty kitchen window at the grey sky and small yard covered in rubbish and weeds. I’ve never been pursued by a man before, and this one happens to be more than just a man. Throwing spices and beans into the mix, I push down everything Bryn evokes in me.
Two weeks. How can something intense take over my heart and head in a short space of time? No, four weeks if I count December too. From the moment, I tipped soup in Bryn’s lap and his surprised eyes met mine, I was lost. The star-struck teen who missed out on lusting over rock stars pushed herself to the surface as he slowly appraised me. Every word he said, each time we looked at each other, I was dragged further into his spell.
When Bryn walked outside into the snow and asked if I was okay after being sacked, I wanted to kiss him there and then. How many men who I know would follow to ask if I was okay? Few, if any. Bryn did, and he didn’t know me.
Then the weird situation where he arrived pretending we were a couple. Why would he do that? Now I know Bryn better, I suspect this was one of his random, bright ideas he didn’t think through. He pissed me off at the time, but thinking back, I relish the idea he chose to do it. Bryn chose me. He kissed me. I may have been heading straight to his bed had the cocktails and unconsciousness not got in the way, but we connected.
Then he broke my heart.
Just a small fact I need to remember.
My phone buzzes. Bryn. My stomach lurches but what did I expect?
“Cariad.”
One of the reasons I hate him calling me this is because I love he remembers to, as if I’m his only ‘sweetheart’, even though I know damn well I’m not. I pull my fantasies into line.
“Mountain man.”
“Ah, I like that you called me that.”
“Why?”
“Better than ‘piss off, Bryn Hughes, and leave me alone’.”
I sigh at him dragging me back to him with humour. “What do you want?”