Fake (23 page)

And now I can't quite meet his eyes, because now he knows.

I'm tainted because I wasn't enough for my father. Mum and I and the little family we created weren't enough for him to come home to every night, and so he found people who were. Twins who he talks about with pride.

Sebastian crosses his legs just like me and takes my hands. ‘Must have taken some balls to write to you.'

I shake free and stand. ‘You're on his side?'

He follows. ‘I'm on your side. Always.' He half reaches out as though he wants to hold me.

I fold my arms and lift my chin. ‘You don't know what it's like to miss having a dad your whole life, and then have him not care enough to ask your favourite subject at school, or what you want to be when you grow up, or whether you have a boyfriend.'

His hands drop to his sides. ‘You're right. I don't know that.' His indrawn breath is shaky. Full of importance. His eyes meet mine and he's never seemed so mature. He swallows nervously and hesitates.

Dread sinks its claws into my belly. I think I'm about to hear something I don't want to know.

His mouth opens. At last we've run out of excuses to avoid this conversation.

‘But I do know what it's like to be a dad.'

CHAPTER

18

Sebastian moves to catch me when my knees threaten to give way.

I brush off his help, hating my body's melodramatic reaction. On shaky legs, I cross to my desk and dump my books on the ground before sagging onto the chair. It gives him plenty of time to take back his words. He doesn't.

‘You have a kid?' I squeak.

‘Yes. She's the reason we had to move.'

She … ‘Poppy.' I whisper the name of his little sister … his daughter … and everything suddenly clicks into place. No wonder he's responsible for her and Lana's not. No wonder he had to stay home when she was sick. No wonder he spoke of her with a glow in his eyes.

He nods. ‘When Poppy's mum didn't want her I promised I'd do my best never to let her down.' His gaze drops to his hands. ‘Mum and Dad sorted out the move. They thought it would be better if we all had a fresh start.'

My brain tries to take in what he's saying but he might as well be speaking in programming code. ‘And you're raising her?'

‘Yes.'

I can't sit still. His revelation makes me feel like tiny ants are crawling over my body. I pace the small space. I should have questions for him but I can't stop staring at him and trying to picture him as a father.

‘You're freaked out,' he says. ‘I shouldn't have told you.'

I can hear in his voice that he wants me to say I can handle this. But I can't. ‘This is too … something … I don't know.'

He waves his hand to encompass my rug and my special quilt and the locket at my throat. ‘You love all these imagined romantic stories but you're too scared to live your own.'

‘You?' I choke out.

‘I could be.' His voice lowers. ‘Or maybe you think you're too good for ordinary, and yes, messy, relationships. Sorry if I'm too real for you, Kath. I never claimed to be perfect.'

‘But I don't think I'm too good.' If anything I'm permanently afraid that I'm not good enough.

He doesn't seem to hear me. ‘I tried to tell you about Poppy so many times but you didn't want to know. I think you like the fantasy you've created in your head more than the real me.'

He pauses a beat, but I can't think of what to say. He's right. I don't want this. I hate the thought of him being different to the Sebastian in my head. It's hard to let go of the boy I've fallen for.

He shakes his head. ‘People make mistakes. And I made a freaking huge one. But you know what? I'm dealing with it as best I can. It might take me forever to make up to my family for what I've put them through, but I will.' He runs a hand through his hair. ‘And do you know what else? I don't actually need to make a single thing up to you.'

He's looking at me like I'm the enemy and every word is a blow against me. His eyes are sad, but I haven't let him down. It's the other way around. He's gone from the only person I could talk to about my father to a stranger. He might not have lied but the truth he's been hiding is so big my mind can't take it in. ‘Who are you?'

His jaw hardens. ‘The same person I was ten minutes ago.'

‘You led me on. You made me think …'

‘What?'

I swallow over the lump in my throat. ‘That I knew you. I believed we had something special.'

‘You don't want to know me. You never did.'

His words are too close to home so I do what I do best. I turn my back on him and wrap my arms around my waist to keep the pain locked up inside. ‘Go,' I say without looking at him. ‘Please leave.'

He stands in the middle of my bedroom for long seconds before walking out, slamming the door behind him. His footfalls are loud down the stairs but the front door clicks softly closed. I marvel that he's still considerate of my neighbours despite how pissed he is with me. I pad out to the window in time to see him storming down the drive.

A car pulls in, heading straight for him. Mum's car.

He freezes. His hands come up in front of his face like they're trying to protect him from impact. For a moment he's in her headlights. Stiff and tall and strong. Then the car stops and the lights go off.

He glances back this way and I swear he can see me at the window trying not to spill pieces of my broken heart all over the floor. The window fogs and I realise it's from the warm tears on my cheeks.

He breaks into a jog and is halfway up the street before Mum is out of the car.

‘Are you all right?' she calls after him.

He doesn't break stride.

I fight a giggle as she detours past the lime tree. Like it's going to have grown in the last few hours. She frowns up at the window and I back away, letting the curtain fall. I stumble toward my room, in no mood for a conversation with Mum about Sebastian or her date or anything else.

‘Kathleen McKenny.' Her voice snakes up the stairs ahead of her, freezing me at my bedroom door. ‘Where do you think you're going?'

I rub an angry palm across my eyes and stare at the ground. ‘To bed.'

She's reached the top and she's pretty much steaming from the ears. ‘Not before we've talked about that boy.'

‘What boy?' It's a pathetic attempt to pretend I don't know who she's talking about but I make it anyway. Right now I'd do anything to gain the comfort of my bed and my pillow so I can sob in peace.

‘The one who was fleeing this house when I arrived home.'

I shake my head. ‘Technically he was fleeing a good minute before you arrived home.'

‘Don't use that smart tone with me.'

Smart? I'm the dumbest person going around. The guy I thought was perfect has a
baby
. A shaft of jealousy takes my breath away. The full ramifications are a slap in the face. He pulled away from me after barely a kiss but he slept with some other girl and then she had his baby.

Where's the girl now? Who was she anyway?

‘Kathleen, you're not listening to me.'

I look up. Mum's arms are folded and her eyes narrow slits of annoyance. She's waiting for me to answer some question but I can't hear anything over the rushing in my ears and the shattering of the last fragments of my heart.

‘I was thinking.'

‘About that boy, I bet. How long has this been going on?'

‘What?'

‘How long have you been sneaking him in here when I'm out.'

‘I haven't …' And then I remember that he came by on Sunday too. ‘I never meant to go behind your back. He's been here twice, but it's not like I planned it that way.'

She notices my change of tack mid-sentence. ‘I thought I could trust you.'

‘You can.'

Her brow arches. ‘And yet I've seen a boy running from the house tonight and you've admitted it's not the first time he's been here when I'm not home.'

I cross my arms, refusing to be in trouble when I haven't done anything wrong. ‘It's not like we had a rule. Chay's here all the time.' Or at least she used to be, before she got obsessed with revenge and began acting odd and secretive.

Her hands go to her hips. ‘Chay isn't a boy. And as far as not breaking any rules, have we never talked about respect?'

‘I haven't done anything wrong.'

If only she knew. Part of me wants to scream the truth – he didn't want me anyway – but I suspect it won't reassure her that I've behaved responsibly. The rest of me is too freaking angry that she's making up the rules as she goes along.

Before tonight Mum's always given me a chance to explain but she's more pissed now than I've ever seen her. ‘You are grounded until further notice. What hurts me the most is the way you have lied and gone behind my back.'

The accusation hangs in the air between us. The silence so taut I can almost see each letter suspended within it.

This is where I defend myself. Tell her she's wrong, that I haven't lied, but … ‘I …'

I have.

Not about Sebastian so much, because nothing happened and I never once thought about the consequences of having him here without Mum being home. But I did arrange to see Marty.

I can't meet Mum's gaze, and the lump in my throat is now a block of epic proportions. I couldn't speak if I tried. It doesn't matter because the only thing I have to say might be the thing that kills my mum's trust in me forever.

She comes closer. Her scent wraps around me as familiar as a hug, but tonight it's cloying. She studies my face and I squirm.

‘Is there anything else you need to tell me?'

I could say no. I'm in enough trouble without admitting my coffee date, but if she finds out later it will be worse. She'll look back to this moment, here in the house we've shared together for nine years, us against the world, and she'll know I looked her in the eye and lied.

I don't really have a choice. My nod is a slow movement of my chin.

She straightens and I can see her bracing herself for whatever it is I'm about to say. Her eyes are wide and fixed on me. She shivers but it's not that cold. And she waits.

‘Remember how I tried to call you on Sunday?' It's important to get that said, so she knows I didn't intend to go behind her back.

‘Yes, you didn't mention anything when you came home.'

I press my hands together, trying to rub warmth into the skin. An image flashes in my mind, of Marty doing the same thing. I drop my hands to my sides.

‘I met Marty for coffee.'

‘Who?' she begins. Then her jaw drops and her lips form an Oh. She steps backwards. Her hand reaches out to grip the balustrade as she sways on her feet. ‘Marty.'

I follow her, wanting to make her understand. ‘I tried to call you.'

She frowns. ‘How?'

She's not asking about the mechanics of calling. ‘He texted me that he was in the area. It was last minute.'

Her brain is filling in all I'm not saying. For him to text me he'd need my number. ‘You wrote to him?'

‘You said you wouldn't mind.' It comes out in a whine.

She shakes her head, half laughs in a completely unfunny way. ‘I don't mind … But I thought … You didn't tell me.'

Now I want to go to her but she's staring at me like I'm a stranger.

Like Sebastian did.

‘I meant to tell you,' my voice rises, ‘but it's kind of hard to have a conversation when you're either working or out with your boyfriend.'

Her hand lifts to stop my words. ‘You have had plenty of chances to tell me this.'

And my stomach churns because the anger is gone.

There's utter pain in her tired eyes and sadness in the lines around her crumpled mouth. It's an echo of the Mum I remember from when we first came to town.

The tears I'd managed to get under control well up again.

Is Mum going to cry?

My body shudders. I can't do this.

I hated Marty for what he did, the lies he told and all the times he made her cry. But it seems I truly am my father's daughter.

My trembling hand pushes at my bedroom door, my sanctuary. When I look back at Mum she's still staring after me.

I bite at my lip. ‘I would have told you but you weren't here.'

* * *

It's 1:00 a.m.

I blink and stare at the digital clock next to my bed with sore, gritty eyes. I don't remember falling asleep but I must have cried myself to slumber.

My phone is ringing. I grab it off the nightstand. Sebastian. Why is he calling me in the middle of the night? I answer it with fumbling fingers. ‘Hello?'

‘Have you seen Lana?' He barks the question and I pull the phone away from my ear and glare at it groggily before replying.

‘No. Why would I?'

‘I don't know, but she's not answering her mobile and none of her friends have seen her. She left a note saying she was meeting this Aaron guy.'

I sit up, now wide-awake. ‘She said Aaron?' He huffs out an annoyed breath. ‘Did she say where?'

‘Going to see his band. But that's all I know.'

‘Give me a few minutes. I'll see if anyone else knows where he was playing tonight.'

‘Fine.'

That one word is full of fear and worry. He cares about her.

I end the call and ring Chay. As it rings my mind goes to the picture Marty had on his phone. My half-brother and half-sister. How would I feel if they were missing in the middle of the night?

I shake my head and will Chay to answer. I must be still half-asleep. I don't know those kids at all. There's no reason for me to feel protective.

The phone rings through to messages.

Wake up
, I mentally shout at the blank screen. I'm pacing around my room but trying to keep the noise down. I don't need any more trouble from Mum after our argument earlier.