Cash ended the call. The ache in his heart at hearing Natalia’s voice caused a physical pain so sharp he found it difficult to breathe. He strode into the bathroom and swilled his face with cold water as he stared at himself in the mirror. He should have told her. Why didn’t he? What a fucking idiot. Prime opportunity to tell her everything—about the help he was getting to manage the anger caused by his head injury and the fact that he’d begun playing tennis again, albeit poorly. And he could have explained why he’d pushed her away.

Shit, he’d thought he was making progress. And yet his response to hearing her voice had been fear that if he told her he wasn’t fixed—that he might never be fixed—all hope that they stood a chance would disappear.

He lashed out, his arm sweeping everything off the bathroom shelf. Glass bottles shattered, the contents spilling over the floor.

“Fuck.” His left hand slammed into the mirror. It splintered into several large pieces. He glanced down. His hand was covered in blood, and a two-inch shard of glass was embedded in the flesh. He gritted his teeth and pulled it out, causing blood to splatter into the sink. He wrapped his hand in a face cloth, but after ten minutes, when the bleeding hadn’t stopped, he picked his way through the broken glass on the bathroom floor and called for help.

Half an hour later, the on-call nurse had stitched and bandaged his hand, and the maintenance guy had cleared up and replaced the mirror. Cash certainly couldn’t fault the service, although considering he was paying far more than a five-star hotel would cost, it was nothing less than he should expect.

Alone in the dark, Cash closed his eyes and allowed himself to think about the conversation with Natalia. She’d called him. That had to mean she missed him—that she wasn’t over him—although after his cold response, she wouldn’t be calling again. He wanted so badly to see her, be with her, touch her. But the fact that he had four stitches in his hand and an urgent need to visit a pharmacy to replace all his stuff was a red flag. He didn’t have this anger shit anywhere near under control. Definitely not enough to consider begging Natalia to take him back.

Hit with an overwhelming urge to hear her voice once more, he picked up his phone and almost dialled. Almost. Mustering every ounce of willpower, he switched off his phone and tossed it into a drawer. No doubt, he’d be made to examine every single detail of the last couple of hours at his next appointment with Bauer, who would scribble notes in his pad, sagely nod in all the right places, and tell Cash he was making progress.

What utter bollocks. He wasn’t making any fucking progress.

His hand throbbed, and he threw back a couple of ibuprofen and climbed into bed. He craved the oblivion of sleep after the disastrous call with Natalia. No such luck on this night, though. He was still awake when dawn arrived. He crawled out of bed and drew back the curtains. It was raining again. It rained a lot in Northern Ireland, but Germany wasn’t too far behind.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered.

He glanced at his watch. Rupe and Mum would be arriving in a few hours. Despite his reticence, they’d insisted on spending the next couple of days with him. When he refused to return home for the holidays, he’d wrongly assumed they’d relent and leave him alone. Instead, his mum had got all excited about visiting Germany. Not the response he’d hoped for at all.

He made a protein shake and took it with him to the gym. To give himself a chance of getting through the day, he’d need to exhaust his body and hope his mind would follow suit. He loved his mum more than the world, and Rupe had been his best friend and wingman forever, but he could have done without their untimely visit. Rupe had made it clear he thought Cash was punishing himself by separating from everyone and everything he held dear and living in a kind of purgatory. Cash didn’t disagree.

Ninety minutes later, he staggered into his apartment. Every muscle ached, and his damp shirt clung to his body, but he felt calmer than he had in several weeks. Job done. He showered, changed, and settled on the couch to read. The author had also written the book Cash had read to Natalia during their holiday to the Maldives. The memory of Natalia curled into his side on a white, sandy beach while he read aloud made his heart clench.

He opened the bedside-cabinet drawer and took out his phone. The minute it booted up, he had an overwhelming need to call Natalia again. Now that he knew her number, it was as if a switch had been flicked, and he constantly wanted to meddle with it. From very early on in their relationship, he’d thought his attraction to her was as strong as heroin would be to a narcotic addict. Despite him being the one to push her away, that compulsion hadn’t abated. In fact, it had strengthened in the time they’d been apart, and hearing her voice the previous night had filled the syringe. All he had to do was plunge it into his arm.

After the fifth time of pressing Call and End in quick succession, he phoned Rupe instead. His call went to voicemail, and when he checked his watch, he groaned. They’d only just landed, so Rupe’s phone would still be switched off. Antsy despite the gruelling workout, he paced up and down, looking at his watch every five minutes. When he estimated Rupe and his mum would be off the plane, he tried again.

“Jesus, have you got a camera on me or something?” Rupe said when he answered.

“Yeah. I hired some dick to follow you around.”

Rupe snickered. “You okay, man?”

Cash forced a smile, hoping it would seep into his voice. “Yeah. What time are you getting to the hotel?”

“We should be there in half an hour.”

“Good.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Bollocks.”

Cash sighed. “I spoke to Natalia.”

Rupe inhaled a sharp breath. “You did?”

“Didn’t know it was her. She’s changed her number. I got a missed call, and when I called back to find out who it was, she answered.”

“How is she?”

“I miss her.” Cash’s voice caught, and he kicked himself for showing weakness.

“Did she say where she was?”

“No.”

“Did you ask?”

“No.”

“Useful conversation, then.”

“Fuck you.”

Rupe laughed. “Look, head on over to the hotel. Let’s get your mum a few gin and tonics, and then you and I can have a proper talk. Man to man.”

“Man to man? You lying to yourself again?”

“Fuck you right back.”

Cash chuckled, a lightness lifting his spirits. “I’ll meet you there.”

Despite his initial reticence at their visit, he couldn’t wait to see them. He opened the wardrobe door and checked the bag of presents, grabbed his overnight case, and set off.

The roads were empty, and it didn’t take long to drive to the hotel. He parked and walked into a reception area decked out with Christmas decorations and an enormous tree covered in twinkling lights. At least they’d made an effort. The hotel was definitely more festive than the residential facility.

He made his way up to the suite of rooms he’d booked on the top floor. He only had to knock once before the door flew open and his mother threw herself into his arms.

“Easy, Mum,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, tugging him inside. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Cash said, deciding not to tell her how close he’d been to bailing. “Flight okay?”

“Yes, lovely.” She looked him over, her keen gaze missing nothing. “What happened to your hand?”

Cash shrugged. “I had an accident. It’s fine. It’ll be good as new in a few days.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What type of accident?”

Cash expelled a breath. “Let’s not ruin the day, Mum. I’m making progress—so Dr Bauer says.”

“And what do you say?”

He wandered over to the minibar and grabbed a juice. “Some good days, some not so good.”

“What was the trigger for that?” she said, pointing her chin at his hand.

Cash inwardly groaned. “Do you mind if we don’t go into the details?”

A flicker of sadness crossed her face. “Of course not.”

“I’ll go and get Rupe,” he said. “And then we can open presents before lunch.”

* * *

Cash kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch. After a long and stressful day, the stirrings of a migraine had him reaching for his painkillers. He poured a glass of water and threw two back.

“You still get a lot of headaches?” Rupe asked.

“Not nearly as many as I used to.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Cash massaged his temples. “It’ll pass.”

Rupe’s gaze became shuttered. “I know you didn’t want us to come for Christmas. I’m sorry if we’ve made things harder.”

“It was more that I didn’t want to go home.”

“Why not?”

Cash teased at his beard. “Because I wouldn’t have come back.”

Rupe frowned. “You’ve been here seven weeks. Surely that’s enough?”

Cash waved his bandaged hand in Rupe’s face. “Yeah, I’ve totally got everything under control.”

“I think you’re being way too hard on yourself. But then again, you always have been.”

Cash expelled a sigh. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Rupe’s insistent questioning started to irk him. Cash lurched to his feet and began to pace. “You want to know what I’m most afraid of?” he said, his voice increasing in volume with every word spilt. “That I’ll end up like him.”

Rupe clenched his jaw. “You are nothing like your father.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Cash poked a finger into his temple. “You’re not inside my head.”

“Thank Christ for that,” Rupe said with a grin.

His anger began to grow at Rupe’s cavalier responses. He leaned down, his face inches from that of his best friend—and the man he badly wanted to punch. “Fuck you.”

Rupe gave a brief shrug. “If it makes you feel better, go ahead. Curse at me all you like. But remember, I’ve known you for eighteen years. You’ve always had a quick temper. But physically abusive? Come on.”

“But that was before!” Cash yelled in Rupe’s face, his hands curling into tight fists. “Before that pissed-up bastard ruined my life.”

He launched himself upright, closer than he wanted to admit to headbutting the supercilious fucker who was imitating his best friend. He laced his hands together and cupped the back of his neck as he began to pace once more. Rupe, meanwhile, didn’t say a word. He sipped his wine, one leg crossed over the opposing knee, and watched Cash storm around the room. Rupe didn’t even flinch when Cash shot the occasional venomous glare his way. In fact, he looked bored and at one point even yawned.

Dredging up every ounce of self-control, Cash forced himself to cross over to the window. He focused on the people below going about their business. He took several deep breaths and rolled his shoulders. After a few minutes, he managed to pull himself together. He turned around and perched on the window ledge.

“Sorry,” he said to a still-silent Rupe, who was thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

“How come you didn’t hit me?”

Cash frowned. “What?”

“How come you didn’t hit me?” Rupe repeated.

“Why would I hit you?”

“Exactly,” Rupe said, shooting Cash a triumphant stare.

Cash scratched his cheek. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“Jeez, dickhead. You may have the looks, but I’ve definitely got the brains.”

The last remnants of Cash’s anger dissipated, and he grinned. “Are you going to explain what you mean, or sit there insulting my intelligence?”

“You were furious with me. I could see it in your eyes. You really wanted to give me a good hiding, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So what stopped you?”

“I don’t know,” Cash said.

“Sure you do.” Rupe refilled his wine glass and took a sip. “Think about it.”

Cash stared at the ground, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. He’d come so close, his fists clenching of their own volition, but then he’d chosen to walk away. He’d taken a self-imposed time out and called upon the coping techniques Bauer had been teaching him all these weeks.

He lifted his eyes to Rupe’s. “Because you’re the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had, and the thought of hitting you… I’d rather cut my hands off.”

Rupe spread his arms out wide. “And my genius status remains firmly at number one.”

“As does your arrogance.”

“I’d say we’re neck and neck on that score.”

Cash’s lips twitched. “I’m not sure you’ve actually proved anything.”

“Yes, I have. Only you’re too dumb to figure it out.”

“Okay, wise one. Fill me in, then.”

Rupe touched his tongue to his teeth and grinned. “In a straight-out fight between me and Tally, who do you care about more?”

Pain lanced through Cash at the mere mention of her name. “No offence, but I’ll never love anyone as much as I love her.”

Rupe rose from his seat and clapped his hands around Cash’s upper arms. “And there you have it, numbnuts. If you couldn’t hit me, despite my provocation, why are you so sure you’ll hurt Tally?”

Cash expelled a curt breath. “I threw a vase at her head.”

Rupe shook his head. “Remember when you broke your right arm jumping off that wall in the second year of high school?”

Cash gave him an exasperated look. “Relevance?”

“You still played cricket that weekend. You bowled with your left hand and were still faster and more accurate than anyone else on the field. If you’d wanted to hit Tally with that vase, you would have.”

Cash rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I can’t take the risk.”

Rupe raised his eyes heavenward. “You infuriate me, Cash. This all comes down to your determination to punish yourself because you don’t think you’re deserving of her love. Or anyone’s for that matter. And yet she loved you with everything she had, so you had to find a way to ruin it. Face it, all this stems from the fucking guilt you’re still carrying around about your father.”

“I didn’t ask to be hit by a drunk driver.”

“No, but you were past that. On your way to recovery. The whole breakup with Tally was engineered by you.”

Cash snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love her. I was going to marry her. More than anything, I want her back, but I also wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I hurt her.”

“And I’ve proved that is highly unlikely. If you can’t smack me, despite my best efforts to rile you, there’s no way you would ever hurt her. You’d call on one of those self-help-strategy things you’ve been learning about and do exactly what you did with me today.”

“I’m not fixed yet,” Cash said.

Rupe cursed under his breath. He grabbed Cash’s jacket and reached inside to grab his phone.

“You’re fixed enough,” he said, thrusting the phone into Cash’s hand. “Call her.”

Cash hung his head. “I can’t,” he whispered.

The phone slipped out of his hand and thudded onto the floor.