by Nina Levine
* * *
I kill plants.
I can’t keep them alive to save myself.
Seriously, in my twenty-two years, I’ve not once managed to keep a plant alive. And I’ve tried to be a plant mother many times, so that’s a lot of failures on my record. I try not to take it as a sign of my likelihood of maternal success if I ever have a child, but maybe it’s nature’s way of telling me to never go down that path. I mean, there are plenty of other things I’m good at. Yoga, running, boxing, baking. And let’s not forget marketing. My first love. Well, besides my other first love who is no longer my love at all. But I’m trying hard not to think about him today, which is one of the hardest things to do because Storm is the reason I’m here today. And when I think of Storm, I can’t help but think of him.
Shit.
I reach into my bag and fish around for a tissue. And my phone. I want to take a photo of the flower I’ve been looking at for the last five minutes. Maybe I’ll be able to figure out what it is so I can buy one and try my hand at keeping yet another plant alive. God knows I need something to take my mind off everything going on.
“Zara.” I turn to find Devil coming my way, his features grim. Most likely due to the current worries of the club. “When did you get in? King said he didn’t think you’d make it in time.”
“I wasn’t sure I would either, but I got all the packing done and the removalist truck filled sooner than I thought. I flew into Sydney this morning and came straight here.”
I eye the grave in the distance where my mother stands with King, Winter, and Birdie. The anguish blanketing them threatens to bury them as deeply as the casket just lowered into the ground. King is a raging contradiction of sorrow and anger. God help whoever did this to his club. And I’ve never seen Winter look so savage. The man is intense, yes, but it’s a controlled kind of intense rather than this stormy, unpredictable energy surrounding him.
Devil places his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
“No. But are any of us?”
Devil rakes his fingers through his hair and blows out a long breath. “Fuck, this shit is doing my head in, Zar.”
“It’s doing everyone’s head in, Devil. Don’t feel alone in that.”
“Yeah. It was a fuckuva lot easier to deal with when we all didn’t have kids to worry about.”
I want to ask him how his kids are. I really do. But I can’t stand here and do this anymore. I shouldn’t have come in the first place. Not when the grief of losing my father is still right there on the surface. But I wanted to be here to support Mum and King, so I did my best to push those feelings down deep. Turns out funerals are a trigger for a damn roller coaster of emotions. Emotions that I don’t know what to do with.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I have to go.”
Without waiting for his response, I spin around and leave, walking as fast as I can towards my rental car. I need to get to my hotel and go for a run. A long one. That should lock my thoughts and emotions down tight. God, how have I ended up with all these feelings coming at me? I’ve been working so hard with my shrink to sort through everything. I thought I was past the worst of it.
My phone rings.
Holly.
“Where are you?” I answer the call. “You promised you’d be here.”
“I’m stuck at work because Del slept in this morning, of all damn mornings, and so we’re running behind and I can’t leave yet. I’m sorry, Zar.” She pauses. “Have you seen him yet?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think he’s coming.” I’m both relieved and disappointed by this. A sure sign of my insanity.
“He’ll be there. Take my word for it.”
My veins hum with the nerves caused by thinking of him. “Well, I’m leaving now.” So I won’t see him today. “Are you still going to take the day off?”
“Yeah. I’m hoping to get away in the next half hour. Where will you be?”
“At the hotel. I’m gonna go for a run.”
“Are you still checking out apartments this afternoon? I could come with.”
“Yes. Come. I need you. My first one is at two.”
“Done. I’ll go to the wake for a bit and then I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“I love you.”
I end the call and check to make sure I got a good photo of that plant when I hear someone call out, “Fury.”
My head snaps up and my breathing slows as I see Fury walking my way carrying his son. Well, I’m guessing it’s Noah, but since I’ve never seen him, I can’t be absolutely sure. I’ve heard a little about him, but I’ve refused to look at any photos or put myself in a situation where I’d meet him. I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to do it. But life has a way of catching up with us and forcing us to face the hard shit. And it’s caught up with me.
My legs feel weak as I take in the red hair of the little boy, his laughter, the way he struggles against what his dad wants him to do, and the way Fury finally gives in and lets him down to walk. And, oh God, the way Fury reaches for his hand and keeps him safely by his side. His actions are gentle. Tender. Loving. There’s none of the frustration and annoyance I see from so many parents when their child doesn’t behave the way they wish.
They continue their trek to the grave while I helplessly continue watching them. While I drink in the man I haven’t gone a day without thinking of in the last four years.
And then it happens.
Fury’s eyes lock onto me.
Tension sparks through my arms, my legs, my chest. My heart.
The need to breathe the same air he does pulls me towards him.
I’ve almost reached him when his son yanks his hand from his father’s and takes off running. My eyes dart to Noah and then back to Fury. It all happens in a split second, in which I see Fury mouth, “Fuck,” with one last look at me before taking off after his son.
I stare after him, every limb shaky, my chest pounding with apprehension, and I know I have to get out of here.
I can’t do this.
Four years of heartache has been too high a price to pay for loving him. I won’t allow more of that pain.
Hurrying to my car, I throw myself in and drive as fast as I can towards safety. Safety from him.
I knew moving home to Sydney would be hard.
I spent months preparing for it.
I made plans for how I would survive him.
But none of anything I did readied me for the reality of it.
My body knows it, my mind knows it, and my heart knows it: Fury is a living, breathing part of my soul as much today as he was four years ago. And I have no idea how to cut him out.
“I like this one,” Holly says as we look around the fifth apartment for the day. It’s also the last one on my list, and I have to agree with her; it’s the one I like, too.
The real estate agent picks up on our enthusiasm and starts rattling off a long list of reasons why I should choose this one. I zone out, struggling to think of anything but Fury.
“Zara.” Holly hits me. “Thoughts?”
I blink and come back to the conversation, realising they’re both staring at me, waiting for a response. To what, I don’t know, but I nod. “I want this apartment.”
Holly narrows her eyes at me before saying to the agent, “Can you give us a minute?”
He nods and walks away, heading for the front door.
Holly drags me out onto the balcony. “Okay, spill. What the hell is going on with you? You’ve been distracted all afternoon, and I’m a little concerned you just agreed to rent an apartment you don’t even know for sure you want.”
I stare at the park the apartment looks out over. “I saw Fury.”
“Shit.” And then—“What happened?”
“Nothing. He had to chase after Noah. I didn’t hang around for a catch-up. Lynette wasn’t with him, so there was that at least.”
My phone sounds with a text and I quickly glance at it. I’m waiting to hear from my boss about work o
n Monday.
* * *
Angus: I just went to the apartment. All your stuff is gone. What’s going on?
* * *
“Fuck.” I look up at Holly. “It’s Angus.”
She pulls a pained face. “What does he want?”
I return her pained face. “I didn’t tell him I was moving this week. He’s just been to the apartment.”
“Dude, you guys have been broken up for five months. What was he expecting?”
“I told him I was moving back here, but I think he thought it was just talk. I probably should have given him the date I’d be moving out so he could have organised to rent the apartment out. That’s probably what he’s going on about.”
“Um, no. Angus thought he could fool around on the side while keeping you in his rich daddy’s apartment, and now he’s shocked you meant it when you said you wouldn’t be running back to him. He doesn’t need the cash, Zar. He doesn’t give two shits about renting that apartment out. Not when the only shits he gives are about keeping you as his property.”
I arch my brows. “I see someone feels strongly about this.”
“Well one of us has to, and since you don’t seem to care at all about what he did, it has to be me.”
“I do care, Hols, but it also made me realise I don’t love him and that I don’t think I ever did.”
My phone buzzes again.
* * *
Angus: Zara. I can see you read the message.
Me: I told you I was moving. I moved. I left the key with Zoe.
* * *
He calls me and against all my better judgement, I answer. I know he won’t let up if I don’t.
“Don’t call me, Angus. I’m not—”
“Where are you?”
“In Sydney.”
“Fuck, baby, why? I thought we were working stuff out.”
“I know you did, but I never said that. Not once. You fucked your assistant; there’s no coming back from that.”
“It happened once, Zara. Once. And I told you it would never happen again.”
I sigh. “I’m so bored with this conversation. We’ve been having it for five months and I’m done. I’m not coming back to Melbourne.”
He turns silent for a beat. “I’ll give you some space. And then we’ll figure this out.”
Jesus. “Listen to what I’m saying, because I’m only going to say it once more. We are over and there’s nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind. Goodbye.”
I stab at the phone to end the call and make eyes at Holly. “Good God. He just won’t take no for an answer. I might need to change my phone number if he keeps going.”
The real estate agent interrupts us, sticking his head out of the balcony door. “I need to get to another appointment.”
“Sorry,” I say, shoving my phone back in my bag. “I do want the apartment.”
He smiles broadly. “Okay, great.” He then tells me what paperwork I need to submit and we discuss the next steps.
Once we’re back in Holly’s car, I rest my head against the seat and say, “I need to be more like you.”
She starts the car. “How? Why?”
“I need to just sleep around and stop getting into relationships. I’m not built for this shit.”
“You are our mother’s daughter, Zar. You’re not built for anything but relationships. So yeah, good luck with that.”
“Ugh.” She’s right. “I’m done for a while. If you catch me looking at a man, slap me.”
“I would if I thought I was going to get to see much of you over the next couple of weeks.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“You chose a hotel over my place. You told me you foresee many early mornings and late nights at work for weeks. I don’t know when you’ll have time for me.”
I grin. “You’ve become needy in your old age, big sister. I told you the reason I chose the hotel is because it’s close to work and they’re paying for it. The fact you’re in the middle of painting your house is another good reason for me to stay away. I don’t do well with paint fumes.”
My phone rings again and I pick it up straight away, determined to give Angus a piece of my mind. “Angus. Stop. I told you—”
“Zara.”
Shit, it’s not Angus.
“King.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m with Holly. I just found an apartment to rent.”
“You’re free now?”
“Um, not really.” Not if you want me to come to the clubhouse.
“Either you are or you aren’t.” He uses his firm tone with me.
“I am,” I say softly, wishing I didn’t respect him so damn much. If I didn’t, I’d just lie to him and get out of doing whatever he wants me to do.
“Come to the clubhouse. Your mother is here.”
“Okay.”
The line goes dead and I eye Holly who’s watching me with a knowing look.
“We’re going to the clubhouse?” she asks.
I nod and don’t even bother to send a prayer up for Fury to not be there. He will be there. I know it for a fact. With everything going on, there’s not one club member who isn’t there today. King’s law. And he’s been laying that law down a lot lately.
30
Fury
* * *
“Christ, Lynette, I’m about to leave now and bring him over,” I say into my phone as it rests between my ear and my shoulder so I can change Noah’s pants.
“I was expecting you ten minutes ago. I have stuff to do, you know? I don’t sit around waiting for you to grace me with your damn presence.”
God fucking help me. If she wasn’t the mother of my child, this conversation would be going a lot differently. Hell, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, because I wouldn’t have anything to do with her.
“Noah, stay still please,” I say, trying like fuck to keep him where I need him. He’s full of energy today and proving to be more of a handful than usual. Then to Lynette, I say, “I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”
Putting the phone down, I finish getting him into clean pants after a toileting accident.
“I wanna go play,” Noah says, busting his ass to get back to playing with all the kids.
“No can do, little man. We’ve gotta get you to Mummy.” I scoop him up and throw the backpack with all his shit in it over my shoulder.
“No!” He thrashes in my arms, fighting for what he wants.
I shift him so my hands are around his waist, and crouch down with him. “Hey,” I say softly, “Mummy hasn’t seen you all day. She’s missing you. Don’t you wanna go play with her?”
His bottom lip pokes out. “I wanna play.”
“Yeah, I know you do, but guess what? We’re gonna get some ice cream on the way.” I try never to bribe him, but at this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to get him home to his mother. With the way she’s squeezing my balls at the moment, I’ll use ice cream any time I need it.
His little face lights up and he throws his arms around my neck. “Yes! Ice cream!”
Thank fuck.
I lift him back up and exit my room to head out to my ute. We run into King on the way out.
“You coming back?” he asks.
“Yeah. Once I’ve dropped Noah off, I’ll be straight back.” He has stuff he wants to go over with everyone and while he said he understands if I have to focus on Noah today, I want to be here for it.
He nods. “We’ll wait for you.”
I get Noah into the car and we drive to his mother’s place, stopping to pick up ice cream on the way. Lynette meets me at her front door with a filthy look on her face. Taking Noah from me, she says, “This can’t become a habit, Fury.”
Following her inside, I dump Noah’s bag on his bed before meeting them in the kitchen. The smell of soup fills the house and I take in the small containers spread out on the counter that she’s portioning the soup into for Noah. This is the reason why I put up wi
th so much shit from her; she’s turned out to be the kind of mother I wish I had. She loves our son in all the ways I could have ever hoped for. But fuck, she never lets me forget the fact I couldn’t love her how she wanted.
I check out the schedule for the next week that she has on the fridge. She could run King’s war for him with the organisational skills she has. “You need me to have him on Tuesday night?”
We have a standard schedule we follow, but we’ve agreed to be flexible where needed to help each other out. So far it’s working for us. But we’ve only been at this for four months, so fuck knows how long it will last.
She lets Noah down while I place the ice cream on the counter. “Yes. I have a date.” Her mouth pulls into a straight line when she eyes the ice cream that Noah’s clamouring for. “Why did you buy that? You know I don’t want him having it.”
“Ice cream Daddy!” His little body is bouncing up and down as he tries to reach for the tub.
“It’s a treat.”
“And if we’re not careful, treats become the norm. God, Fury, why do you always do this?”
I grab a bowl and spoon as Lynette and I do what we do best. “I’m not getting into this in front of him, Lynette.”
“You are such a—”
“Stop,” I order, my voice low in the way she knows not to go up against. “Let me get this for him and then we’ll talk.”
“Daddy!” Noah is still bouncing and excited for the ice cream.
Lynette shoots me one last dirty look before stalking out of the kitchen. I finish spooning ice cream into Noah’s bowl and then sit with him while he eats. We don’t rush; we never do when we eat together. It’s our time and I cherish the fuck out of it.
Once he’s done, I take him into his room and set him up with his toys so Lynette and I can talk in private. “I’ll be back soon,” I tell him. He’s already engrossed in his toys, though, and barely registers me leaving the room.
I find Lynette in the laundry, loading clothes into the washing machine. “I don’t intend to make a habit of giving him ice cream. He was fighting me over leaving the clubhouse; I bribed him.”