“Hey, Mac.” Heath appears by my side. “Rafe’s looking for you. He just got a text from Jake, who’s ready to make his big arrival. But get this. You and Will need to be at the front of the room. Lucky you. Ha-ha.”
I’d wondered where Jake was. Although he did promise a grand entrance after he burned his hair off. “Can’t let the star of the night down, can we.” I slip my arm through Heath’s as we make our way back inside.
“Sorry, Mac.” Rafe approaches me, Will by his side. “I don’t know why my brother wants you and Will on camera with him. But he’s been insisting on it all fucking week.”
“Camera?” I keep my smile on my face, although it’s starting to hurt.
Rafe stares at me as though he’s no idea what I’m talking about. “He wants it going live on social media.”
Lovely. I should’ve guessed.
I release Heath and stroll to Will’s side. “Cheer up,” he whispers in my ear. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”
I smother my laugh. Trust him to see through my fake smile. There’s no way I won’t finish that quote for him. “I’ll try and stay awake.”
His grin makes it hard to see anything else, and although I’m smiling at him like an idiot, I don’t care.
Rafe leads us to a lift at the end of the room, where a space has been cordoned off with gold velvet ropes. Most of the guests are making their way in the same direction, and the other members of the band are already there. Everyone has their phones at the ready, and Rafe whips his out before waving for us to move closer to the lift door. I glance at Will, and he gives me the sexiest wink ever.
“Okay, bro,” Rafe says into his phone. “We’re set.”
The lift door opens, and my heart slams against my chest. The whole freaking lift is on fire.
It only takes a second for my horrified brain to adjust to the sight emerging toward me. We aren’t about to be engulfed in a nightmarish inferno.
“Fuck me,” Will says without moving his lips, which gives me the terrible urge to laugh. I bite my lip and can’t drag my mesmerized gaze from Jake.
The back of his wheelchair is ablaze. Literally. Well, it’s not real fire, but it’s bloody impressive. Massive red, orange, and yellow flames lick around him and fan into the air. He’s waving like a prince to the cameras and giving a speech, but I’ve no clue what he’s saying.
Because Will’s holding my hand. When did that happen? Not that I push him away. No one’s looking at us. Not that I’d much care if anyone was. But everyone’s dazzled by the spectacle in front of us.
“Jesus, Mac,” he hisses in my ear, but he’s trying not to laugh, which sets me off. “Look at his head.”
I tear my eyes from the special effects and focus on his head. He completely shaved his singed side, and—oh my God, is that a tattoo emblazoned on the side of his skull?
“The Grim Reaper?” I nudge Will in the ribs but still don’t let go of his hand. “Dramatic, much?”
“At least now I think it’s safe to say the fundraiser will definitely go ahead.”
“That’s true.” Relief washes through me. One less thing to worry about.
“Mac!” Jake waves me over like the royalty he is, and with reluctance, I release Will’s hand and go to stand with him. The things I do for charity. I smile and nod at the crowd, even though most of the people here have no clue who I am, and Atomic Fire’s fans, watching online, are all going to hate my guts, just because I’m standing next to one of their idols.
“If it weren’t for Mackenzie, I wouldn’t be here now,” Jake gushes, and I try not to squirm. “But she told me, Jake, you had a close shave with Death, but your guardian angel fought him off. Embrace it! And so, I am.”
I didn’t say that. Well, I didn’t say all of that. I chance a glance at Will and catch sight of the other side of Jake’s head. His hair almost reaches his shoulder, and the image of an archangel, brandishing a flaming sword, has been dyed into it.
When Jake decides to make a statement, he doesn’t do things by half.
The next few minutes are a blur, but when the furor dies down, Luke and Violet join us before I get the chance to make a run for it.
“I like your style,” Lucas tells Jake, who fairly glows under my brother’s praise. “Is this permanent?” He waves his finger over Jake’s head.
“Temporary tattoo,” Jake says. “Fucking awesome, innit?”
“I love it,” Violet says before she turns to me. “Did you design the graphics?”
I blink, taken aback. “Um, no.”
“Oh, sorry. When Jake said he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you…well bugger. You know what I’m like. Always jumping to conclusions.”
Lucas gives her a hug as if she’s the most adorable thing in the world, and I’m acutely aware that Will’s standing so close to me I can feel his body heat. Don’t think about his body heat.
Don’t think about giving him a hug, either. Even if I do think he’s completely adorable.
“No,” Jake says, waving his hand at Violet to get her attention, and she reluctantly pulls back from Lucas. “It was when Mac and Will came round the other night. Gave me the idea for all this. I thought, Jake, my man, go big or go home.”
“Huh,” Lucas glances at us. “You didn’t tell me you had to go see Jake again.”
“Guess I don’t tell you everything,” Will responds.
“I only called Mac,” Jake says. “I don’t know why he turned up as well.”
“That’s because it was nearly ten at night. Did you even look at the time before you rang her?”
Will sounds mad, and my insides melt at his sweet but misplaced protectiveness.
“Wait. Were you two together at ten at night?” Lucas laughs like he knows he’s got the wrong end of the stick somewhere. A spark of irritation flares through me. It’s none of his business if we were together or not.
“Catch you later, guys,” Jake says, before zooming across the floor on his flaming chariot.
“Good job we were,” Will tells my brother. “Otherwise she would’ve gone round to see him by herself. I’m the bodyguard, remember?”
“Ouch.” Lucas shoots me a glance. “You weren’t meant to tell her that. How come we’re both still standing?”
“I’ve already told Will what I thought of that. Do you really want me to give you a lecture right here, in the middle of the party?”
“You’re giving me a choice?” Lucas melodramatically staggers back, and Violet laughs. “You’ve mellowed in your old age.”
“Don’t push your luck. I could still change my mind.”
Lucas and Violet are swept into another celebrity-studded cluster, leaving us alone. The urge is great to hook my arm through Will’s and lean my head on his shoulder, but I manage to resist. Not that I care if anyone sees us. But this is our last weekend together. I don’t need my brother giving me any grief. Regret burns through me, and I heave a sigh.
“I’m going to miss not hanging out with you.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. There’s no reason we need to split up this weekend. We’ve got a good thing here. Why mess with it?”
A strange pain twists through my chest. The whole point of this crazy relationship was so I’d get him out of my mind. It’s damn sure not worked, but God knows I tried.
“That’s not what we agreed.” My voice is hoarse, and I focus on the fiery spectacle of Jake across the room so I don’t have to look at Will. The last thing I want is him guessing how badly I wish things could be different.
What the hell am I thinking? When I go back to Uni, I need to focus one hundred percent on improving my grades. There’s no place in my life for a relationship. Especially one as all-consuming as this is with him.
“Oxford’s not far. We can get together every weekend. I could even make it up there during the week sometimes.”
Every weekend? And during the week? Even though it’s an impossible dream, I want that so much it hurts.
For someone wh
o’s been told how clever they are since the day she learned to read, I sure am a complete idiot when it comes to Will Hamilton.
“I can’t do that.” If only I could. My brothers have no problem balancing great careers with committed relationships, but I can barely scrape through my classes even without the added distraction of dating.
He tenses, and there’s no sign of his usual carefree smile or warm gleam in his eyes. “You’re telling me you want to end this? What, tonight? Now?”
A scary suffocation crawls through my chest and squeezes my throat. I don’t want our final goodbye to be here, in the middle of a party. But how would it be any better at his flat?
The end result would be the same.
“Why are you so mad? We discussed this. Besides, are you honestly saying you want a relationship after what happened with your ex? And while you’re trying to set up your business?” Why am I even asking him this?
“Why does it have to change? We don’t need to get serious. Would it really be so bad?”
My chest aches, and it’s crazy because it’s not like I’m looking for anything more. Not with Will. Not with anyone.
“I told you how it’s going to be at Uni from now on. No time for relationships. That’s why I wanted one last fling before going back.”
But even though that’s how it’s going to be until I graduate, the words are hollow, and my stupid heart cracks open.
“Right.” He doesn’t physically recoil, but the temperature seems to drop ten degrees. “Back to studying a subject you hate, for a degree you don’t want. Yeah, that sounds like a fucking good plan to me.”
I can’t believe he threw that in my face. My deepest secrets, which no one else but Brooklyn knows about, used as ammunition against me. I desperately need a scathing one-liner, a caustic retort to let him know what a total bastard move this is, but my mind’s folding up on itself, fetal like.
Fuck.
Not going to fall apart.
Too late.
Somehow, I locate my voice. “It is if I want a fucking good career.” I grind the words between my teeth, but they’re meaningless. Because he’s right.
“You could have a great career with your art.”
My laugh sounds like the creaking gates of hell. “Yes, sure. This is the real world. I can’t make a decent living with my art.”
“How do you know that unless you try? You’ve got a real gift.”
I might have a gift, but my family’s never taken it seriously.
And neither has he. Not when I really needed him to.
“But no one cares. You couldn’t even make time to come to my one and only exhibition.”
No. How could I have said that out loud? Am I completely hopeless when it comes to him? Please don’t discuss this. Even now, I don’t want him guessing how deeply his non-appearance hurt.
“Exhibition?” A frown slashes his forehead, and it’s soul-crushingly obvious he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. “What do you mean?”
I exhale a harsh breath. I didn’t want to talk about this. Still don’t. But the knowledge my art meant so little to him that he’s completely forgotten that whispered, midnight promise, just about rips my heart to shreds.
Get over it, Mac. I’d already guessed as much.
Maybe. But there’s a world of difference in surmising and having the truth thrust down your throat like scorched earth.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Yes, it does.
Fine, then. “Boxing Day, after we first slept together. I waited in the snow for two hours for you to show up.” I even messaged him, but he didn’t respond.
And my pride hadn’t allowed me to mention my humiliation to him the next time we saw each other.
His frown deepens as comprehension finally dawns. Maybe he’ll apologize? Better late than never.
Then, incomprehensibly, his expression hardens and something I can’t figure out flares in his eyes. “Sorry. I forgot.” There’s a savage note in his tone that renders his apology into an accusation. “Like I told you. Shit happened.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that. “Fine. Whatever.”
We both glare across the room. Well, I’m glaring. I assume he is, given the rigid way he’s standing beside me, as though he’d love nothing better than to get the hell out of here.
That works for me. Bastard.
I surreptitiously press my finger against my nose, in the hope that it prevents any sniffling. Don’t let my eyes water.
He exhales an impatient breath and turns to me. I pretend not to notice. “You know what? You can’t keep blaming your mum because you’re too afraid to go after your dreams.”
It’s like a physical punch to the gut. How can he say that to me? Before I can stop myself, I round on him. “That’s not true.” Instead of sounding strong, there’s an unforgivable tremor in my voice.
“It is, and you know it.”
Why’s he so mad at me?
I don’t know. Nothing makes sense anymore. Only one thing’s clear. There’s no chance that we’ll stay friends after tonight. Not after the way he’s betrayed my trust by flinging my confidences at me as though they’re of no importance.
I find my inner bitch rocking in a distant corner and drag her out.
“Go away, Will.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Will
The persistent banging in my head doesn’t fade when I open my eyes. My face is squashed against the sofa cushion, and my feet are dangling over the far end. No wonder every bone in my body aches. I didn’t even make it into the bedroom when I crawled into the flat in the early hours of the morning.
I roll onto the floor and stagger into the hall before my mind catches up with my brain, and I come to an abrupt halt. Why the hell did I agree to hang out with Lucas today?
He’s the last person I want to see when all I can think about is Mac. I press my forehead against the wall and screw my eyes shut, but she’s still there. Gorgeous, tempting, and untouchable.
Go away, Will.
The banging starts up again. There’s no getting out of it. Christ, this is so fucking messed up.
I pull open the door and squint in the blinding sunlight.
“You look like shit,” Lucas says with a grin, handing me a takeaway coffee.
I grunt, take the coffee, and shuffle back along the hall. He shuts the door, and we end up in the sitting room, where I sprawl again on the sofa.
“Surprised you didn’t bring a chick back with you,” he says as he makes himself at home on the other sofa. “What happened? Losing your touch?”
I chug down the coffee, relishing the caffeine as it floods my bloodstream. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“That’s a first.”
Why does he sound so fucking cheerful? And just for the record, it’s not a first. I glower across the room at him. “I’m not talking about my sex life.”
“This got anything to do with your mystery girl?”
Jesus, he won’t give up on that, will he. “There’s no mystery girl.” It comes out between my teeth. Not even lying. One last fling before she went back to Uni. Don’t know why that burns me so much. She told me she wasn’t looking for a relationship before we even went to Wales.
She wasn’t talking about me then.
I don’t fucking do relationships, anyway.
In that case, why do you feel like shit?
“Bollocks. I know that look, bro. You’ve fucked up. Am I right?” He tosses another grin my way, and I fight the temptation to give him a black eye.
I’m in danger of crushing the takeaway cup, so I put it on the floor for safety.
“You’re a fucking wanker.” I lean my head back against the sofa and shut my eyes. It doesn’t stop the dull pounding in my brain.
“That might be true,” he concedes, “but at least I’ve got Violet.”
I make a gagging noise, but it’s half-hearted. He does have Violet. And I don’t have Mac.
&nb
sp; “Why aren’t you with her, then?” I already know the answer—she’s spending the day with her mum—but it’s the only deflection I could think of.
He ignores my diversionary tactic. “Did I ever tell you what Harry said to me when I fucked things up with Violet?”
He didn’t, and I don’t want to know. “I don’t need second-hand dating advice from your brother.”
The smirk on Lucas’s face says it all. Bloody idiot. I’ve just admitted he’s right.
You just admitted you were dating Mac. And not in the casual fake-dating way we discussed when we were in Wales, either.
It’s never been casual with her. Not even that Christmas night when I lost my mind and took her to bed. I was over my ex by then, and Mac’s always meant more to me than any other girl, even before we first slept together. Why didn’t I see that before it was too late?
“Your call,” Lucas says, sounding way too smug. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
After Jenna, I swore never to get involved with another girl. I couldn’t risk having my heart crushed again after having the person I trusted most in the world turn her back when I needed her. But whenever I thought of the future, Mac was always there.
I was serious, all right, and didn’t even realize.
And Lucas is the last person I can take advice from. A strangled groan escapes, and I slump forward, my head in my hands. I broke the bro code, big time, and this is karma’s payback.
“You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?” He still appears to find the whole thing funny. “I’m gonna give you Harry’s advice for free.” He leans forward on the sofa, and I have a freaky, fatalistic conviction that whatever he says will straighten out this clusterfuck. Without the nuclear meltdown.
“The only way to get her back,” my best friend says, “is to grovel.”
I wait, sure there’s more, but he lounges back on the sofa and proceeds to finish his coffee.
Grovel? That’s the golden advice Harry gave Lucas? What a crock of steaming shit.
Mac doesn’t want anything more to do with me. And making a prat of myself in front of her won’t change that.
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