CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

One week later

 

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days, but no matter how much time passed, the hollow, empty feeling inside my chest would not go. The loneliness of not seeing Drake every day is devastating and consuming. He’s all I’ve been able to think about.

But that’s the funny thing about time—it’s always the same. It ticks with each second, with each minute, and with each hour. But so much can happen within a moment of time. It only takes a second for your heart to break. Minutes to make the biggest mistake of your life. Days to fall in love.

There is no time limit when it comes to the choices we make in life.

And in three weeks, I royally screwed mine up.

Dramatic? Maybe, but that’s what you get when you’re the girl who feels everything on a deeper level. Who loves unconditionally and forgives easily. I’m that girl. The one easily broken.

The second Alison and I arrived home, I used her phone to tell my parents I wouldn’t be back until Tuesday. It gave me a few days to just be me—to mourn my loss, if you will. I felt bad for lying to them, but I needed space to feel a resemblance of normalcy.

It didn’t work.

Even now my heart is heavy, and I’ve been walking around like a zombie since I got back.

I’ve avoided everyone at all costs. When I ‘arrived home’, I went to my parents’ house, pretending to be happy, like there was nothing wrong. It took the very little energy I had left to pretend I wasn’t falling apart from the inside.

After that, I just wanted to be by myself. I lied to them, telling them I had to work on another event and would be busy for a few days. That was five days ago.

They’ve knocked on my door a few times, and I swear I’ve heard either my mum or Alison try to use their spare keys to get in. Thankfully I thought ahead and bolted the door. I even ripped my home phone out so I didn’t have to speak to anyone or hear their voice over the voicemail.

I just wanted to be alone for a while longer. It wasn’t a lot to ask.

For the past two days, all I’ve done is sleep and watch TV. I couldn’t even tell you what was playing. I was looking, but I wasn’t really watching; everything’s been a tearful blur.

Until today.

My eyes are red and puffy from crying non-stop. You’d think after seven days I would’ve pulled myself together, but if anything I feel even more lost now. I keep thinking ‘what if’ on so many things, that maybe things would be different. I wouldn’t be hurting, wondering if the man I love loved me back or not. Every scenario of what I could’ve done differently runs through my mind. But it doesn’t matter what I change, because the results are always the same.

I fucked up.

Big time.

The banging that woke me from my afternoon nap continues, thumping through my sore head. “Pagan, open the door!” Dean yells, banging some more—you know, in case I didn’t hear the first ten times.

Groaning, I hold a pillow over my head to block him out. I can’t deal with my brother right now. I feel like shit, and I have the headache to end all headaches from crying non-stop. Listening to Dean will just make it worse, and the second he sees me, he’ll know something’s up and demand answers… or someone to punch.

“Open the door, sweetheart,” my dad shouts.

I lift my head from under the pillow, wondering if I’m hearing things.

I’m not.

“Come on, Pagan, open up.” My mother’s voice is calmer, yet full of concern.

“If you don’t open the door, I’m kicking the fucking thing down,” Dean threatens, banging again.

“Dean, calm down. You’ll scare her,” Lola chides.

Oh God.

They’re all here.

“Come on, Pagan, open up. They know everything,” Alison calls out.

I groan into my pillow, wanting to strangle my best friend. I don’t even know why we’re friends anymore. “Go away.”

There’s no point in pretending I’m not in. Alison’s been delivering containers of food every day to make sure I’m eating, though they’re still in the kitchen where I left them. I didn’t want to have her overreacting, calling the police, ambulance, and fire station, telling them I’m dead.

She’d do it too.

“Open the fucking door, Pagan, and let us in. We’re worried fucking sick,” Dean shouts.

“I don’t think she’ll answer with you going all macho like this,” Lola snaps. “Pagan, open the door for me. We want to check that you’re okay.”

I’m actually tempted to open the door to her. I just don’t have the energy right now. Hearing her sweet, soothing voice makes me feel guilty for ignoring her, but I just want to be left alone.

I hear muttering, then a few curses before silence falls outside my door.

Well, that didn’t take long. I thought they’d be out there all day.

Rolling over and facing my bathroom door, more tears slip free. I hate feeling weak and pathetic, but right now, that’s who I am. And it’s infuriating.

A rapping gains my attention, and for a minute I think my brother is picking my lock, but then rustling follows, sounding a lot closer. I turn to the noise, a scream bubbling in my throat when I see a large form in a hoody climbing through my window.

Before a gasp of air can escape, I see my twin brother’s handsome face and hiss, “What are you doing?” My voice sounds foreign, raspy. I wince, wishing I didn’t sound as bad as I look.

They’re never going to leave now.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You look like shit.” His gaze sweeps over me, looking for any signs of injury. “We’ve been worried sick. And what is that godawful smell?”

Discreetly as I can, I smell myself, wincing when I do. I really should’ve taken a shower last night.

“I’m fine, as you can see. And I don’t smell anything,” I pout, glaring at him.

He tsks, shaking his head. “What’s wrong, Pagan? Do you need me to go sort him out?”

My eyes water. “No! I just want to be left alone.” I sound like a whiny teenager.

“So you can rot?” he snaps.

“Ugh, can you just climb back out of the window?” I growl, lifting the blanket over my head, trying to ignore him.

He walks towards the end of the bed and I relax, glad he got the picture and is leaving—

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I scream.

He rips the blanket the rest of the way off with a smug grin. “You’re getting out of bed and showering. Then you can talk to Mum about what’s going on. I don’t need to hear about my sister’s sex life.”

“I want to be left alone!” I shout, thumping my fists on the mattress.

“Tough shit. I’m not letting my sister lock herself away. It’s not you. It never has been. Even at your worst, you always manage to find the positive in life. You’ve never given in, and you never wallow. And you never blow off family, ever. I won’t let it happen now. Not to you.”

“Get out! I want to be left alone, just for a few more days. Please.”

“No! Now get up.”

I get up, but only because I want my blanket. He smiles like he’s won, but then I grab the blanket off the floor. He sees and growls, grabbing the other side and pulling. I stumble and grit my teeth, pulling it away.

“Go away, Sid. I want to go to fucking sleep. I’m tired.”

“At three in the afternoon?” he retorts, pulling sharply.

Giving up, I slap his hands away. Distracted, he tries to grab mine but I move quickly, pulling his hair. “Let me go to sleep.”

“Get off my hair, Pagan.” His voice is high-pitched; if I wasn’t in a mood, I’d be teasing him right now.

“Not until you give in and go away.”

“Never!” he screams, but I keep pulling. One thing he can’t stand is having his hair pulled.

He’s such a girl.

It’s the easiest thing to grab a hold of since he’s always kept it long, saying it goes with his bad boy image. But that’s just an image. He’s the softest lad I know.

The banging on my door starts up again, their shouting echoing around the room.

I pull harder, but before I can dodge him, he’s pulling my hair back, both of us bent over like teenagers.

“Get off my hair before I have to remove you myself, Pagan.”

“Like you ever could,” I growl.

He kicks my feet out from under me and I scream, landing with a thump on my back.

Wood splintering rings in my ears and I groan. Footsteps come running into the bedroom as Sid pins me down, sitting on my stomach to make sure I’m nowhere near his nether region.

He knows me too well.

“What on earth?” my mum gasps, taking us in and snapping, “How old are you?”

We both groan, turning to look at her.

“He started it.”

“She started it.”

We glare at each other. “You started it,” we say simultaneously.

“It’s like we’ve time-travelled back twelve years,” my dad groans, stepping forward. “Get off your sister, Sid.”

“What is that fucking smell?” Dean grunts, looking around the room with his nose in the air.

I moan, wishing I had my blanket to hide under.

Sid jumps off me, looking at Dean as he points down at me. “That.”

“It is not,” I snap, sitting up.

Mum steps forward, bending down towards me. She reaches out for me but then pauses, her face scrunching. “Um, Pagan, sweetheart, I think it is. You need to jump in the shower.”

“I want to know who to fucking kill first. She isn’t going anywhere until I get a name and address,” Dean growls.

“I told you it’s not like that,” Alison tells him.

I glare at my best friend. She tries to not meet my eyes, but after a few seconds she turns my way, shrinking behind my brother.

“I hate you!” I snap. “We’re no longer best friends.”

“I’m sorry, but you left me no choice. I’m worried about you, and I had every right to be. You have food growing fur in the kitchen, and this bedroom? It stinks.”

Way to point out the glaringly obvious, bitch.

“Did you really need to point that out? In front of everyone?”

“Clearly,” she snaps, pouting.

“Whatever. Can you all go now? I want to be left alone for the night. You can see I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Lola whispers. Hearing her voice brings more tears to my eyes, and when I look up, I’m met with her watery, sad smile. “You haven’t smiled once since we walked in. You always smile.”

“Yeah, well….” I shrug, not knowing what to say as guilt consumes me.

“Okay, boys, you go get us some takeout. Her kitchen isn’t fit for me to cook in. Alison, you get the bin bags and gut the whole kitchen. Lola, you strip her sheets,” Mum orders, then looks at the sheets again. “And bin them.”

Everyone moves all at once.

“Wait… what… but…,” I stammer.

“No, no talking. You, my girl, are getting in the shower. Come on.”

With no choice, I let my mum help me to my feet, feeling a little weak. I haven’t eaten in two days, which probably wasn’t the wisest choice, a wave of dizziness hitting me.

“What am I going to do with you?” she murmurs sadly.

I stare at the troubled look in her eyes and burst into tears. I hate feeling so hurt, like such a failure.

“Let it out,” she whispers, pulling me in to her. I hold on for dear life, breathing in her fresh, earthy scent.

“I was such a coward, Mum. I just left without even explaining or telling him how I felt.” She rubs my back, cooing soothingly in my ear as I let it all out. I didn’t believe I even had any more tears to shed.

“You’re not a coward. Don’t ever say that again. You fell in love and got scared. What girl who’s been through the heartache you have wouldn’t do that? You have such a big heart, my darling girl.”

I cling to her harder, needing to be held. She does, wrapping her arms tighter around me, kissing my temple.

“I really messed things up with him. Now it’s too late to do anything about it or see if he feels the same. And even if he did, he wouldn’t now, not after what I did. I feel so stupid.”

She sighs. “You haven’t messed anything up. Have you tried calling him?”

Pulling away, I look up at her as I wipe my tears and shake my head. “I’m too scared to even turn my phone back on. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him. What do you say to someone you spent three amazing weeks with and then left without a word to?”

She runs her fingers through my hair, tilting her head. “Why don’t you start with sorry, and why you ran away?”

I laugh at that. “It won’t be that easy. He’s been hurt before, worse than me. His fiancée cheated on him with his best friend. But before he found out about them, he found out she was pregnant. He thought it was his. And according to his nan, he was hurt by the betrayal.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. It’s not like he has feelings for me. I’m just some stupid event organiser he had a three-week fling with.”

Narrowing her eyes, she steps forward. “Stop! Stop talking about yourself like you don’t mean anything, Pagan Lily Salvatore. I won’t have it. You aren’t someone to have a fling with. You’re more than that, and any man, even the slimiest, can see that. And from what Alison told me, he was infatuated by you. So you, my daughter, are going to get in that shower, wipe those tears and come out as the Pagan we all know and love. Then we’ll talk about what you should do next. Now go!”

My eyes widen at the heat in her voice. She’s shouted at us plenty of times, but never like this.

“But―”

“No buts, missy. You’ll do as you’re told. When you get out, we’ll put a plan of action together. You’re going to eat first though. You’ve lost too much weight.”

“But―”

“What did I say?” she says in that mum voice of hers, giving me a pointed stare.

“I know, but―”

“But what?” she asks, sighing.

“But I love you,” I blurt out, because anything else can wait. More tears spring to my eyes as I pull her in for a hug. I’m grateful for my brother climbing through the window because I really did need my mum. I just didn’t know how badly until she was here in front of me.

A thought occurs to me.

“Mum?”

She pulls away, sighing again. “What now?”

I give her a weary smile, concern worrying my bottom lip. “Um, who’s going to fix my door?”

She rolls her eyes. “If you had answered the door, then you wouldn’t be worrying over it. We should make you live without one for the worry you put us through.”

“But?”

“But we’re not going to. I’ll have Dean get a new one when he gets back. Now go shower. You really do stink, darling.”

I roll my eyes at my mother, then head to the bathroom.

My only concern now is what plan she’s going to cook up. There’s no way I can go back to the Donovans, and a phone call seems insulting somehow. I can’t possibly see how we can fix this.

But there’s no denying that the thought of talking to him again, maybe even seeing him, has lightened my mood a little.

Mums really can fix everything.