ISAAC
Movement wakes me and I bolt upright moving straight into a defensive position. I relax when I see Shelly. She knows how to approach me when I’m asleep without getting hurt.
“Sorry, your mum called. I think you’re needed.”
I nod, scrubbing my hand across my face. Yesterday was hard. I’ve been keeping eyes on Via, and when those eyes reported back that she had met with pretty boy from the dance studio, it wasn’t anger I felt, it was pain. Worse, it was pain laced with fear. I’m not giving up on her, not until she has a ring on her finger and a legal document taking someone else’s last name. Even then, I’m not sure I’ll stop fighting.
“Thanks,” I answer.
Shelly nods before leaving. When she does, I get out of bed and stride my naked arse to the en-suite, needing to shower and wake up before calling my mum back. I can’t help acknowledging the morning wood standing strong and proud as I get under the water stream. Groaning, I wrap my palm around my dick and picture Via on her knees with her lips wrapped around me as her moans vibrate along my shaft. With the image of Via at my helm, I release quicker than a teenager watching porn with only a sock covering his dick. My orgasm is hollow though, I feel no satisfaction as I turn the water off.
“Mum,” I say the moment she answers my call.
“Isaac.” The pain laced in her tone is fucking hard to hear, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Shelly said you called, is everything okay?” I question sitting at the window in my room and watching the street distractedly.
“We’re… well, we’re as good as can be expected.”
I nod, not that she sees me.
“It’s your Uncle Dane.”
I sigh. I thought it might be something to do with him.
“He’s not coping,” I state.
“No. He’s shut himself off. I think he’s drinking, but I’m not sure. We’re not allowed to visit the house.”
“Mum, it’s been what? Three days since Aunt Libby died. What exactly is it you expect from him?” I ask rubbing my temple.
“Isaac James!” she snaps, and I roll my eyes. Luckily, she can’t see me. “If this was one of us, would he leave us be? Let us wallow in our pain?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, my body submits to her words and my shoulders sag. She’s right, Uncle Dane wouldn’t leave us to wallow alone, he wouldn’t let any of us shut him out, not ever.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask.
“What do you think? Go around and see him. You’re the one person he can’t keep out. Not physically anyway, and besides, you always had a bond with him, one that not even his kids can understand since, you know, they don’t know about either of you.”
“Sure, Mum, I’ll go see him today.”
“Thanks, baby boy,” she says and hangs up. I shake my head but smile. I love my mum, but she still sees me as this helpless young kid who needs looking after. Hell, maybe she’s right.
“Uncle Dane,” I announce walking into the dark living room of his house. A pungent smell greets me, but there’s no response from the man himself. He doesn’t even look up to acknowledge me with his eyes. The only reason I know he’s alive is because of the lurching movement as he shoots down the rest of his drink. Scotch, going by the bottle on the coffee table. Yep, definitely scotch, I conclude as he grabs said bottle by its neck and fills the glass again.
Rounding the table to face him, I can’t help but stare. It’s been only days since Aunt Libby died, but it’s been a couple of months that she’s been battling with a life-ending illness and that time has taken its toll on my uncle. He’s lost weight and is looking gaunt. His hair is longer than ever, appearing greasy and unkempt. My uncle’s scruffy and worn like a homeless person. His eyes are sunken on his pale face, and if it weren’t for the fact that I know how much my aunt dying has affected him, I would assume he had a terminal illness too, just from his appearance.
“Uncle,” I snap, swiping the bottle from his loose grip.
His eyes stumble up my large frame until they reach mine, and I painfully watch as he tries to focus and clear his haze.
“Isaac?” he coughs out, a frown appearing on his forehead.
“Hey,” I say, softening my voice. Dropping the bottle back on the table, I seat myself in the chair next to his. He struggles to follow my movements, blinking almost continuously.
“She’s gone.” His words are spoken raggedly, like a wounded animal.
“I know,” I reply sadly.
“I c-can’t… t-there…” Fumbling over his thoughts, he stops talking completely as the sobs rise from his throat and spill over onto his broad shoulders causing them to shake. Placing one arm around my uncle, his body sags limply into mine, and I hold him as he silently cries into my shoulder.
Uncle Dane is one of the few people who had a role in helping me become the man I am today. He helped me get my job, and he worked with the best. Hell, he was one of the best. This big, strong man who could kill someone with one hand tied behind his back and both eyes closed—even at his age—is currently falling apart in my arms. The despair rolling off him is beginning to choke me, and the harder I grit my teeth and attempt to hold my shit together, the harder the emotion cracks, breaking something inside of me. Twenty-two minutes it takes for Uncle Dane to calm down enough that he can physically move away from me. There are no words I can say to make this better, so I wait while he pulls his shit together.
Wiping his face and swiping the hair from his eyes, Uncle Dane reaches for his glass and refills it before swigging down the whole lot in one go. He hisses through his teeth as no doubt the burn sears his throat.
“After I lost Nova the first time, I lived a half-life, a robotic existence that forced me to become cold and calculating. When she came back, she freed me, Isaac. She didn’t make me want to be better, she simply made me better just by being her.”
His eyes are wild and far away as he forgoes the glass and takes a swig of Scotch straight from the bottle this time. “The truth is, Isaac, I don’t know how to exist without her, not anymore. And honestly?” He places the bottle down on the coffee table and stares directly into my eyes. They’re clear now—cold, aware, and focused. “I don’t want to.”
He gets up, staggering away, then he starts climbing the stairs as I sit having not a fucking clue what to do. Halfway up he stops. “Thanks for coming over, Isaac,” he says leaning over the banister. “You did what you could. But without her, it’s like my heart has been ripped clean out of my body.”
Standing, I move to the hallway looking up at him.
Uncle Dane stares back at me earnestly. “I hope you never feel this pain, the only way I can even try to describe it?”
I grab the banisters and wait for him to finish.
“Imagine if your mum visited you at your home tonight and told you that Liv had died.”
With those parting words, he drags himself up the stairs, and I release my grip, clutching my stomach as my mind is assaulted with images of Via dying.
I’ve been through a lot in the last five years, but even the pain of being tortured for days doesn’t come close to the agony—which isn’t even justified—that right now is winding me.
I finally understand that my uncle can’t cope. It also makes me realise that none of us can do anything for him. He’ll never find peace, not now she’s gone. And I know because I’ll never be at peace without Via.