Broken, p.17
Broken, page 17
“And I’m not saying we’re destined to work out.” I downplay my desperation a little. “Relationships, from what I’ve heard –” I wouldn’t know “– are hard work, but I want to try. I want to give us a shot at least.”
I’m about to say something else, but Damien slides his finger over my lips to silence me. My heart pounding with anticipation, he leans in close, but I’m distracted by the sound of a woman’s voice.
“Damien?”
I push open the door to see a beautiful brunette standing halfway down the stairs wearing what looks like Damien’s T-shirt and not much else. Damien turns his head to look at her too, and I don’t hesitate, turning on my heel and racing back to my car. Damien is calling my name, but I’m already climbing into the driver’s seat. Without putting on my seat belt – irresponsible and stupid, I know – I start the engine and zoom off.
I keep driving, my seat belt now on, until I reach the first service stop on the motorway, and after parking up and switching off the engine, I let the tears flow like never-ending waterfalls of pain and heartache. I feel like my entire world has just come crashing down around me and I’m buried in the rubble, unable to breathe. After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t think anything could hurt me the way Adrian did, but I was wrong.
I had my shot, and I blew it. I pushed Damien away, and he found solace in the arms of another, who is no doubt able to give herself to him in ways I can’t. I don’t blame him, but the reality that I will never be with Damien is like a bullet to the brain. It’s excruciating.
You know what, I take that back. I do blame Damien, at least half as much as I blame myself. He’s not innocent in all this. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was texting me telling me he missed me and that nothing had changed regarding his feelings for me. Was all that just a lie?
Maybe I’m old-fashioned. Technically, we’re not a couple. Damien has every right to sleep with whoever the hell he wants, so I have no right to feel betrayed, yet I do. I feel like I’m just another conquest Damien’s failed to actually conquer, and it hurts like hell. I sigh. Maybe all men are the same, and Damien isn’t the diamond in the rough I thought he was.
My phone starts to ring, and one glance at the screen tells me it’s Damien. I don’t answer it. I don’t want to hear his excuses or his apologies or whatever he has to say. All I want to do is go home and lock myself away in my bubble of solitude where I belong.
I let myself wallow for a while longer before making the gruelling journey home. I’m not sure how I manage to stay awake after an almost non-stop ten-hour round trip, but as I lock up my car, my sluggish shoulders and aching limbs tell me the fatigue is kicking in. Thank God it’s Sunday – no work – and I have the freedom to go inside and crash.
I head inside through the communal door, and the sight of Jess appearing in the hallway, almost as if she’s been waiting for me, is not at all welcome. I sigh at the worry encompassing her face, failing to hide the anger lying underneath, and I instinctively brace myself for some form of lecture or interrogation. I open the door to my flat and let Jess follow me inside. She remains eerily silent, her hands firmly on her hips like a mother about to scold her child, and I revel in the calm before the storm. I throw myself onto the couch against the back wall, and Jess soon breaks her silence.
“What the hell is going on?” She raises her voice a little too loudly, awakening a shooting pain in my forehead. “I’ve had Damien on the phone, freaking out, wanting me to text him the second you got home.”
“Have you?”
“Not yet,” Jess states, sitting down on the opposite couch. “I’m not done being pissed off at you for taking off to Kent in the middle of the night and not telling me.”
“Last time I checked,” I say unnecessarily, but as you can imagine, my tiredness is making me crabby, “you ain’t my mother.”
“No,” Jess says, remarkably calm, though I can see a hint a frustration in her eyes. “But I am supposed to be your friend, and after the Kayleigh shit last night, I’m a little on edge. The least you could have done was send a text or leave a note on your door.”
As much as I hate to admit it, she has a valid point. I instantly soften, guilt replacing my crabbiness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Apology accepted,” Jess says far too quickly. “Now, are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on? Damien was vague.”
“Yeah, I bet he was,” I say spitefully.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Damien’s sleeping with someone else,” I answer flatly. No wonder he didn’t let me inside, I suddenly realise. Absolutely naff all to do with his dad.
“No,” she says in a ridiculously over-the-top manner. “Do you have proof?”
I sigh. “A woman on the stairs in one of his T-shirts.”
“So, you didn’t actually catch them in the act?” Jess asks, and I shake my head. “So, technically, you don’t know for sure they’re sleeping together.”
I scowl. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” Jess insists. “And I get I don’t know Damien all that well, but he’s like infatuated with you, and after everything Paul and Raif have told me about him, he doesn’t seem the type to throw in the towel and jump into bed with someone else.”
“If you were in my shoes,” I state, “what would you think?”
Jess mulls it over. “The same, but I’d have stuck around to give him what for.”
“I run and hide.” I shrug. “It’s what I do.”
“Was she really wearing one of Damien’s T-shirts?”
“It was definitely a bloke’s,” I say. “But I’m not on a first-name basis with Damien’s wardrobe.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” Jess suddenly spits, rolling over to my side of thinking.
“No, you’re not,” I order. “Damien’s done nothing wrong.” Technically.
“Are you kidding?” Jess raises her voice far too loud for my nagging head. “You may not have been officially a couple –”
“My doing.”
“It’s irrelevant,” Jess maintains. “You can’t come on as strong as he did and then move on to some slapper.”
I allow myself to let out a laugh. “You don’t know she’s a slapper.”
“Yes, I do,” Jess affirms. “Because I’m a slapper, and only slappers put out on the first date.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know that either. For all we know she could be an old flame or a friend with benefits he hooks up with when he goes to visit his dad.”
“Whichever way,” Jess states. “What Damien’s done is not on, and I’m not gonna let him get away with it scot-free.”
Again, I shake my head. “He’s a guy. It’s what guys do.”
“Not an excuse.” Jess’s serious voice is refusing to fade, and in a way, I’m comforted to know she has my back.
“It’s my own fault, Jess,” I say sadly. “I let my bullshit get in the way, and when I finally opened my eyes, it was too late.”
Jess sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault I’m fucked up.” I shrug, fighting back the impending tears, but either the tears are welling up in my eyes anyway or Jess is reading my mind because she moves to sit next to me.
“You’re not fucked up,” she says softly.
“Yes, I am,” I state, the tears starting to fall. Jess moves to put an arm around me, but I stop her in her tracks by sliding over a little. “Don’t, please.”
Jess sighs. “What is that about, Dani?” she asks, obviously fed up with being in the dark. “That’s the second time you’ve stopped me from comforting you.” She’s referring to the night of James’s attack, and her words only make me weep more.
“It’s a really long story,” I tell her.
“I got time.” She shrugs. “And you do know it’s hard to give advice without the whole story, right?”
Damien knows. Paul and Kayleigh know the gist. I guess there’s no point holding it back from the person I’m starting to think of as my closest friend anymore, especially when in truth, with Damien about to be history, Jess is the only person I’ve got left.
“You’re gonna want a drink,” I tell her. “Or several.”
Jess merely urges me to start talking, and after a long, deep breath, I oblige. I fill her in on everything, from getting shot, to my amnesia, Adrian, and everything else that makes up my bloody sob story. Jess barely says a word throughout, listening with her usual scary intensity, and now that I’ve finished, a miracle is occurring right before my eyes: Jessica Baines is speechless.
I’m now on my feet, making myself a brew. Jess is still sitting on the couch, gob-smacked and attempting to process everything, I think.
“You want a brew?” I ask her, but she shakes her head. I make my coffee in silence before moving back into the living room, taking my previous position next to Jess on the couch. “Are you gonna say something?” I ask, attempting to break the awkward silence.
“I don’t…” she starts. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, oh my God, Dani. It’s…”
“Unbelievable.”
“Except you lived it.”
Remarkably, talking to Jess has brought on a calmness I didn’t expect. I think I’ve told my story a few too many times in the past week, I’m getting used to it. That, and I know Jess cares about me. If anything, the truth can only allow our friendship to grow. Secrets and friendship, or a relationship for that matter, I realise, are not a good mix, and I’m glad Jess knows. It almost feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I have nothing to hide anymore, from anyone, and after the night I’ve had, it’s a welcome relief.
“So, you don’t like to be touched because you actually feel the pain?” Jess asks.
“I get flashbacks,” I explain. “And it’s like I’m there all over again, and yeah, the pain feels real too. Not as strong, obviously, but it’s there.”
“That’s…” Jess shakes her head in disbelief. “So much makes sense to me now.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“I’m so sorry I gave you a hard time about not going out,” she says. “If I’d have known…”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m glad you did. I mean, Damien can’t take all the credit. You’ve been here from day one. If you hadn’t forced your way into my life –” Jess playfully scowls “– I’d be alone right now. Believe it or not, but you are the only constant I’ve had since I moved here, and you’re the one person I can always rely on. You’ve been there for me the entire time. It just took me a while to see it.”
Jess grabs my non-coffee-cup-wielding hand and squeezes it tight, the brightest smile encompassing her face. “You really mean that?”
“I really do.”
If I was a hugger, this would be a perfect hug moment, but I’m not, so I settle for squeezing Jess’s hand just as tight.
“Well, as long as we’re confessing,” she says, instantly intriguing me, “I need to thank you too.”
“What the hell for?”
“For being there for me too,” she says. “If you put aside the fact you let me prattle on for hours about meaningless shit without complaint, which is a sure-fire sign of a good friend right there, you aren’t the only one who’s felt lonely.”
Jess and lonely are not two words I would have ever contemplated putting in the same sentence, but I should know by now, especially after Kayleigh, what you see on the surface is not always a reflection of what lies underneath.
“I’ve told you before I have no real friends,” Jess continues. “And I really don’t. Most of the people I partied with were James’s mates, who I’ve cut all ties with.” She didn’t need to say or do that, but I appreciate her loyalty. “I’m not great at the making-friends thing. Girls tend to hate me.”
“Jealousy,” I state.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging, but I do. Jess is gorgeous, and I can imagine a lot of women find her intimidating. “But you were different. Antisocial as hell, but I guess I saw something in you I saw in myself, and that’s why I never stopped asking you over for a brew even when you used to say no. And you’ve never once judged me for sleeping around.”
“Yes, I have,” I tease. “I tell you all the time you’re a sex fiend.”
Jess laughs. “Yeah, but you don’t really judge me. You wind me up, and you’re bloody brilliant at that, but I always know it’s in jest. You don’t judge anybody, and that’s what I love about you. You accept people for the way they are, and the more time I spent with you, the more I realised I didn’t need a massive group of friends like James to stop the loneliness. I just needed one friend who liked me for me, and that’s you.”
“I used to think you only made the effort with me out of pity,” I admit.
“Self-pity, maybe,” she says, and I give her hand another squeeze. “I used to be fat. All through high school. I was bullied relentlessly, but I lost a shitload of weight in college, and I told myself I’d spend the rest of my life flaunting it. That’s why I sleep around, to prove I can. It’s sad.”
“No, it’s not,” I reassure her. “We all deal with shit in different ways, and just because society says sleeping around is a bad thing, doesn’t mean it is. Hell, men do it, and they get a pat on the back.”
The woman on Damien’s stairs burns the backs of my eyes, and I silently seethe. Men don’t give a shit, so why should women?
“Don’t they just,” Jess scoffs, and there’s a moment’s silence before she speaks again. “The bullying affected me more than I like to admit, but thanks to you, I’ve gained a couple of extra friends too.” Raif and Paul, I’m assuming. “But the most important one is sitting right here.”
“Ditto,” I say brightly, and Jess smiles.
“Just promise me you will lean on me when you need to,” she adds. “It’s what friends are for.”
“I promise,” I say without hesitation.
“Now,” she says, letting go of my hand, “what are we gonna do about Damien?”
I sigh, the warmth of our conversation replaced with a sadness I can’t begin to describe. I had hoped with all the soppiness in the room, Jess would let the Damien conversation go, but her relentlessness is never far away.
“There’s nothing to do.” I shrug. “It’s done.”
“We could key his car,” Jess suggests, and I can’t help but laugh. “Or hijack a gig with a banner that says ‘Cheating Bastard’ on it.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing,” I assure her. “But I think I need to take the high road.”
“Spoilsport,” she teases, but I can see the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dani.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admit. “I really liked him.”
“You know he’s not gonna just go away, right?”
“He might.” I shrug. “I mean, if he’s found someone else, he’s got no reason to bother with me anymore.”
Jess sighs. “You know I’ve always got your back…”
“But?” There’s a definite but coming.
“Maybe you got the wrong end of the stick,” she says, and I sigh heavily.
“Maybe,” I say, though I don’t believe my words.
“I think you should hear him out,” Jess tells me. “Has he tried ringing you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But I put my phone on silent after the second time.”
“You should answer it,” Jess instructs. “If nothing else, an explanation might at least bring you some closure.”
I nod, knowing deep down Jess is right, but there’s something inside me already accepting that maybe Damien isn’t the one for me. I’d give anything to go back in time and do things differently, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, and now it’s too late.
“Or maybe,” I say softly, “I need to let him go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Blurry-eyed and in desperate need of some bloody sleep, I let my head hit the pillow as soon as Jess leaves. The next time I open my eyes, it’s to the sound of banging on my door. I groan, glancing at the time, groaning louder when I realise it’s only half-two in the afternoon. I’ve only managed a two-hour kip, and I’m contemplating rolling back over and ignoring my door completely.
I force myself out of bed, my entire body aching from the lack of sleep, silently cursing Jess underneath my breath. The banging is relentless, mirroring the banging in my head. Jess is obviously in desperate need of my attention.
“All right,” I scold the noise.
I open the door and immediately shut it again, slamming it in Damien’s face. I should know by now never to assume Jess is the only one with access to my front door. Shit. I don’t want to deal with Damien, not when the image of the woman on his stairs is so fresh in my mind. I was hoping I’d get a chance to calm down and process things rationally. Ha! Since when do I process anything rationally?
“Dani,” he says with a tone that tells me he’s not at all impressed by my actions. I guess that makes two of us, although I’m referring to Damien’s actions, not mine.
“Leave me alone,” I call, wondering if Jess betrayed me, or if my new neighbour moved in early.
“I’m not going anywhere until you let me explain,” Damien insists. “I will stand outside your door all day if I have to.”
Stubborn to the core. I relent, opening the door and allowing Damien to enter my living room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “Don’t you have your dad to take care of?”
“I did,” he says harshly. “But you took off and left me no choice but to come after you.”
“You didn’t need to come after me,” I argue, forcing myself to look at him. I’m pleased to say he’s ditched the pyjamas and is now fully dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans combo, just by the by. “I got the message loud and clear.”
“Do you honestly think I’m sleeping with someone else?” he asks, leaning his palms on the back of my sofa.
“The half-naked woman on the stairs is a bit of a giveaway.” My spiteful voice is back.
