Chapter Thirty-Two
Faith stepped back to let Zane into her flat. “OK, so let’s talk.”
Zane pulled off his jacket and bent down to remove his snow-covered boots.
“Right. I’ll try to explain. I wanted to tell you before, but…”
She nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”
He looked worried, she thought – like someone about to face the executioner. What could he possibly have to say to her that would make him look so anxious? Now he was pacing the floor, avoiding looking at her.
“Zane, can you sit down a minute? You’re making me feel on edge.” She perched on the sofa, her whole body tingling with nerves, as he continued to pace back and forth across the carpet. “What on earth is wrong? Please, just tell me.” She patted the sofa next to her. “Come and sit down.”
He stopped pacing, nodded and rubbed a hand to the back of his neck.
“OK. Here goes.” He sat at the opposite end of the sofa. “I cooled things off between us after the camping trip because during that time we spent together, I realised something.”
He stared at the floor, his fingers fiddling nervously with the leather bracelet on his wrist.
“I realised you’re the one,” he continued. “To say I love you doesn’t even begin to describe the way I feel about you. And that terrifies me. I panicked. I suppose some kind of self-preservation kicked in. It was as though I needed to get out of our relationship to try to keep my sanity.”
He was saying he loved her so much that he had to leave her? What on earth did that mean? Faith’s stomach was a jangle of anxiety and nerves. “Why does being in a serious relationship make you feel that way?” she asked gently.
“It’s a long story.”
He closed his eyes, as if collecting his thoughts. “Stuff happened in the last few years. It changed me.”
He paused, took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Faith could see he was finding it difficult to tell her all this, struggling for the right words. “What kind of stuff?” she prompted.
He opened his eyes, but still didn’t look at her. She wanted to reach out to him, but his whole body language was so tense that she sensed it would be the last thing he wanted at this particular moment.
“When I told you my parents were divorced,” he began, “well, I didn’t tell you everything. They split up because my mum admitted she’d been having an affair with an old boyfriend of hers. A guy she’d met at a school reunion. It had been going on for almost six years. She said she wanted a divorce so she could be with this other guy.”
This time Faith ignored the rigid set of his body, the whole leave-me-alone stance, and went with her instincts. She eased her way across the sofa towards him and placed a hand on his thigh. He glanced at her briefly; seeming surprised at her gesture, and then went back to staring at his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Zane,” she said. “I can’t even begin to understand what that must have felt like.”
“It gets worse,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Faith now knew that he’d reached the point of no return. He had to carry on, he had to let it all out, however painful it might be.
“Go on. You can tell me anything,” she said, placing a hand on top of his.
He slowly nodded before continuing.
“My dad said he honestly had no idea all of this had been going on. Whether that was true or not, I don’t know. Perhaps, on some level, he’d suspected, but didn’t want to face up to it – as though if he ignored it, it would go away. He was devastated when she confessed. As soon as Becca and I found out we tried to help them sort things out, but Mum was adamant she was leaving. I remember her packing all her stuff while Becca tried to plead with her to stay, maybe try counselling or something. I sat in the other room in silence with my dad while he drank whisky.”
He paused as though he was working out what to say next, choosing his words carefully.
“Mum left that night, moved in with this guy. Bex and I took it in turns to stay with Dad for a while, keep an eye on him. He was such a mess, it was horrible to see him like that. He just drank all the time, didn’t sleep or eat. We tried to get him to see a doctor or a therapist, someone he could talk it all through with, because he wouldn’t open up to either of us.”
Faith slipped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. She wanted to try, in some part, to ease his obvious pain and discomfort.
“What happened?” she asked.
Zane said nothing, his eyes closed. For a moment Faith wondered if he’d actually heard her.
“Zane?” she prompted gently.
Zane still didn’t open his eyes.
Eventually he spoke.
“He tried to commit suicide.”