Spike (16 page)

I can’t have the love of my life, our sex-life go viral. I won’t share that moment with anyone. I don’t care about what it could do to me, but it would destroy Eevie … and when she hurts, so do I. I can’t let this happen. When Eevie was drugged and nearly raped, I wasn’t there to stop her from being in that situation. And now this? I haven’t been there for her, or protected her like I’d promised.

Isn’t that the whole deal? Men protect their women? The roles have been reversed, and Eevie’s tried to save me from
him.
She stopped at nothing to keep him away from me. But she had to lie to do it.

****

* EEVIE *

I get in the door from work at about six o’clock. Aidan’s car is out front, but there’s no sign of him. I find a note on the bench.

Having a couple of beers, home by 7
xxx

I unpack my shopping bags and prepare all the ingredients to make a spicy sausage-pasta dish that I know he’ll love. Maybe I can get through to Aidan via his stomach. No, wait … the way to a man’s
heart
is through his stomach … how do I work it to get inside his head?

I blink for a moment, trying to find the answer, but I’ve got no clue. I’ll just have to make a kick-arse pasta dish. I’m pulling out all the stops.

By nine o’clock, Aidan still isn’t home. I send him a text. After ten minutes with no response, I give up waiting and reheat my dinner. I guarantee it would’ve tasted a lot better two hours ago.

I eat it, alone.

I cover Aidan’s dinner and put his plate in the fridge. My phone rings.
Finally he calls
. I reach for the phone, but it’s a number I don’t recognise. My heart pumps hard against my ribcage.
Oh, God
. I have to answer this. It could be them.

“Hello,” I manage to choke out.

“Hey, Eevie. It’s Ryan here.”

“Oh … hey, Ryan,” I say on an exhale. Thank God it’s him.

“Listen, gorgeous, I just rang to see how you are? Have you two talked some more about all this, and worked out what you’re gonna do?”

“It’s not the easiest thing to talk about, Ryan. I’m going to try to talk to him when he gets home.”

“You mean you’re home alone?”

“Yes.”
And all the doors and windows are locked. I’ve already checked them.

“Where is he?”

“Out.”

“Do you want me to come over? Keep you company until he gets home?”

“No. I’m fine.” This shit is hard enough as it is, and if Aidan came home to find another man watching over me in our house he would
not
be happy. I don’t have to be an expert in body language to interpret how Aidan was around Ryan the other night. I couldn’t tell, though I didn’t know if it were Ryan himself, or this whole situation that had Aidan almost beating his chest and ready to drag me home by my hair like a caveman. Ryan barely knows me and all of a sudden he wants to protect me? Is it because I’m Cassie’s friend, or because he’s a cop?

“Well, I’ve got nightshift in a couple of hours, so it’s no trouble if you want me to swing past.”

“Aidan should be home any minute now, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Alright, well, you’ve got my number now, so just call.”

“Sure. Thanks, Ryan.”

Nine-twenty. Still no message from Aidan. I wish he would talk to me. Tell me where the hell he is. When he gets home, I’m gonna make him talk. Even if I have to drag it out of him.

****

The more time passes, the more pissed at Aidan I become. At around ten o’clock, his phone rings out. No answer. I send him a text. No response.
Just pick up the bloody phone, Aidan! Is it really that hard?

By eleven o’clock, there’s still no word. I crawl into bed, feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life. Doesn’t he think I’m scared? Does he even think I might be worried that something’s happened to him? Dark thoughts drift around my head as I try to sleep.

I am awoken from the sleep that took so long to come to the front door slamming shut, and a bundle of keys crashing on the floor. What sounds like an elephant bumps against the walls on the way to the bedroom. I flick on the bedside lamp to watch Aidan stumble into the room. Eyes barely open, his long legs buckle as he collapses on the floor on his side of the bed. I have
never
seen him drunk. And man, is he drunk.

“What have you been drinking?”

“Bundaberg’s finest,” he slurs.

“Rum? I thought you were just having a few beers.”

“Oh, Eevie, Eevie, Eevie. I’ve had a few alright.” He crawls up to sit on the bed, his upper body jerking around like a jack-in-the-box. He can hardly manage to take his shoes off, so I get out of bed and take them off for him. He flops back onto the bed. Eyes closed, his lashes cast a shadow on his face. He’s a dead weight to move. I have to use all my strength to take off his jeans. I’m not even going to bother with his shirt. I don’t think I’m strong enough. He babbles incoherently, struggling to hold one very bloodshot eye open.

“I’m no good for you, baby,” he murmurs, as I pull the doona over him.

What?

“What are you talking about?” I struggle to contain the anger in my voice. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Of course he’s good for me. I slip under the covers beside him.

“What good am I? I can’t fuckin’ protect you. I failed you. First Dean, and now this …
Fuck
,” he growls.

“Stop it, Aidan. This isn’t your fault,” I warn. I haven’t wanted to push him and ask how he was dealing with this shit, but I guess his true feelings are coming out.

“You should leave. You’re better off without me.”

How could he say such a thing? “Is that what you really want? For me to leave?” I run my fingers through his dark, messy hair. Taking his face in my hands, I kiss him softly on the lips. The smell of rum on his breath is so lethal that I turn my head and gag.

He flops his hand to his face, knocking my hand from his cheek. His eyelids flutter open and then he squeezes them shut like he’s in pain. “Yes it is! You should go. It’d break my fuckin’ heart but then at least
he
can’t use you against me. It’s the only way I can protect you.”

I kiss him on his sweaty forehead and will myself not to cry. Unfortunately, my unshed tears have other ideas.
He’s drunk, Eevie. He doesn’t know what he’s saying
. Does he
really
want me to go? He snuggles his head into my chest. He doesn’t even pull me up on the fact that I’m wearing a shirt.
To bed.

“You’re stuck between me and my useless fuck of a father. Who knows what he’s capable of? I can’t see you get hurt again. It nearly killed me …” he says into my shirt, his words running into each other.

I knew what Dean did to me still haunted Aidan, but I can’t believe he blames himself.

“You’re talking rot, Aidan. Sleep it off.”

He rolls away from me, his warmth disappearing. “Just go!” he yells loudly, the words echoing throughout the room. Within seconds, his breathing tapers off and he starts to snore. Not a breathing-heavier-than-normal kind of snore, but a chainsaw-revving kind of snore.

I slip out of bed and pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I throw some clothes and my toiletries in a bag and scribble a note, leaving it on the bed. I close the bedroom door behind me, trying to keep myself calm until I’m at least in my car, before I fall apart.

Maybe he’s right. Ryan said this guy was dangerous, as well as the people that are after him.

Dean was a fucking teddy-bear compared to what we’re dealing with now. Would Aidan’s father be the curse we’d have to deal with our entire lives?

Does Aidan resent me for putting him in this position? If I had of just had the cash, this would have all gone away. Maybe I should have asked my mum for money, but I made such a big deal about moving out and being independent, I didn’t want her to think I couldn’t cope with the responsibility. I could have financed my car … taken out a personal loan. I would have the tape and it would be over. Why didn’t I think of that shit when I was on the phone with them? If I had’ve got the money, Aidan would have been none the wiser, and life would continue as it was. I’d be poorer than I’d ever been, but richer for having Aidan’s love without him being dragged into this mess.

My options are limited this time of night as to where to go without being bombarded with questions. Some questions I can’t answer. Some questions I won’t. There is only one place I can go. There’s only one person who understands this mess.

****

Cassie greets me with open arms, holding me like I wish Aidan would. I turn to water in her embrace. She doesn’t ask questions. She just hugs me and lets me cry.

I’ve got to believe he doesn’t want this. When I go back tomorrow, he’s gonna have some explaining to do. I’m not going to put up with this, but right now, I can’t bear to be near him.

“It’s all fucked, Cassie. This whole situation … and Aidan …”

“Aidan what?” she asks, her forehead creasing with delicate lines.

“He came home drunk, and in so many words told me to leave.”

“What the fuck is his problem? Where’s your phone? I’m ringing him.”

Cassie on the warpath. Oh, no. There’s no way she can talk to him. This situation is volatile enough as it is.

“No, you’re not. He’s dead to the world, anyway. He needs to sleep it off.”

“Why did he tell you to leave?”

“He thinks it’s the only way to protect me.”

“That fucking sorry son-of-a-bitch. Haven’t you already been through enough? I can’t believe he’s pulled this shit.” Cassie runs both hands through her tangled bed-hair.

“He’s obviously not coping. This mess isn’t his fault, Cassie.”

“Dammit if it isn’t. You don’t need this, Eevie. Maybe you should leave for good.” As much as her words sting, I know there’s no way I could ever leave him, but I’m not in the mood for an argument. It’s only going to upset me more, and my words would fall on deaf ears.

“That’s not gonna fix anything. I’m
not
leaving him Cassie. I just need space … and sleep. I’m exhausted. Can I crash in your spare room?”

She breathes out heavily, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, come on.”

I curl under the covers, and Cassie tucks me in like a mother hen.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just need sleep.”

“I’ll kick his arse if you want me to,” she says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Good night, Cassie.” I shut her down, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I’m lucky to have a friend so ready to do battle for me, but not with Aidan. When he’s ready to talk, that’ll be my argument to have.

“Night,” she says squeezing me in a smothering hug.

After she closes the door, I check my phone.

Nothing from Aidan.

The battery in my phone then goes dead.

Tears slip down my cheeks as his words from earlier sink in.
Just go …
How could he be so cruel? Doesn’t he love me? I would do anything for him. Anything for
us
. Maybe it’s just not enough.

I hide my head amongst the pillows to muffle the sounds of my pain. I cry like never before, so hard it hurts to breathe. After a while, I’m so worked up I can’t stop. Just another thing I have no control over. My body aches, my head is heavy, and my heart could possibly rip in two.

CHAPTER TWELVE

* AIDAN *

My head. Oh, my fucking God, my head. I don’t ever remember having a hangover like this. I never drink like that because I don’t want to acknowledge the alcoholic that’s in my blood.
My father’s blood
. I’d worked so hard to be the opposite of him, yet I went out and got royally shitfaced.
Nice one, Aidan
. Way to deal with this shit.

My brain pulses hard against my skull as if it’s trying to escape. Bright light drowns the room, stabbing at my eyelids. I roll over to nuzzle with Eevie. The one thing in my life that
is
right.

I’ve been a prick. I should have told her I’d be late, but I got too caught up with those fucking shots. I just can’t back down from a challenge.

My arm meets only a tangle of sheets. I force an eye open to find her side of the bed bare. I have no idea what time it is. She’s probably already up. I sit up and rub my eyes, trying to ignore the walls closing in on me. I think I’m still drunk.

“Hey, babe?” I call out, each word pounding in my head. No answer, but the door is shut. She probably didn’t wanna wake me.

I stumble over to the bathroom and take a piss. I’m half fucking undressed. A chuckle escapes my throat. I must’ve been a mess. I guarantee Eevie won’t be my biggest fan today, and she has every right to be pissed. I’d better make it up to her. She can’t resist my big breakfasts, with loads of everything, and after not having anything to eat last night I need some carbs or something to make me feel human. I just hope I can keep food down.

I splash cold water on my face, bloodshot eyes peering back at me when I glance in the mirror. I rest my hands on the vanity, and take in a deep breath. The vanity, which is usually overrun with Eevie’s things, is relatively tidy. She must have finally started using the drawers. Not that I ever said anything about the mess; it’s just part and parcel of having her live with me.

When I walk back into the bedroom, I spot a piece of folded paper with my name on it. I snatch the note from the bed.

When you wake up with the hangover from hell,
have a good think about what you said to me,
and if me leaving is really going to solve this mess.

Fuck. Motherfucking fuck
. What have I done? What in the name of fuck did I say to her?

I swing the bedroom door open, calling out her name. I hope this is a joke. A fucking mean joke, but it’s better than the alternative. My broken voice echoes back at me, taunting me.