Phoenix

I’ll tell her everything. The whole sorry tale.

I’ll show her everything.

Soon.

And maybe, just maybe, our broken parts will fit together enough to fix us both.

It’s a longshot, but isn’t it always.

I’m still on high alert as I slip back out the way I came in. I make sure the entrance door is locked just as I found it, and then I cross the street to my truck with one last glance up at her living room window.

I don’t know what it is that first sends a shiver up my spine. Some early cognition of being watched, or maybe the familiar hulk of a vehicle parked just down the street from mine.

I’ve only just ventured close enough to read the license plate when I hear his footsteps behind me. I’d recognise that gait anywhere.

Any-fucking-where.

His voice is slurred and spitting rage when it comes.

“Barely a fucking year and you’ve moved on like she was fucking nothing.”

He’s not expecting the full force of my weight as I shunt him backwards. Not prepared for the venom with which I lift him clean off the ground and slam him up against his truck.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jake?”

He swings for me but misses. “I fucking followed you, you stupid cunt. Wanted to see where you fucking went.”

“That’s bullshit,” I snarl. “I’d have clocked your fucking truck a mile away.”

His eyes are like coals. “You’ve got a fucking tracker, asshole.”

“Great. Congratulations, you found me on GPS. And now you can go on your fucking way.”

“What’s her name?”

My pulse is frantic. Icy. “She’s none of your fucking business.”

He sneers. “She’s everyone’s fucking business tonight. The building opposite has fucking scaffolding. I’ve seen the dirty little slut’s pounded fucking asshole already, what’s in a fucking name?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

But he doesn’t. He never does. “No wonder Mariana wanted out. No wonder she begged me to take her. You’re a filthy fucking animal. Always fucking have been.”

“Watch it,” I snarl. “Just fucking watch what you’re fucking saying.”

He manages to slip his hand under mine, twists hard enough to shake me off. I watch him stumble a few paces, cursing the fact I ever fucking dragged him out of that fire.

He gestures up at the window. “Like her, do you? Wanna play happy families with her? You, her and my boy?”

“For the thousandth fucking time, Jake. He’s not your fucking boy.”

He jabs a finger at me. “That’s for the fucking paternity test to decide.”

I close the distance between us, ignoring the fact his fists are raised. “There’s not gonna be a fucking paternity test. You’re a fucking drunk, Jake. A bitter fucking drunk who wants to torch the whole fucking world with your misery. Do us all a fucking favour and either go fucking join her, or sort your fucking life out.”

He points at Abigail’s window. “Like you have, you mean? Got yourself a pretty new thing to make yourself feel better? This one gonna end up in her grave in a few years too?”

I take a breath before I tear his fucking limbs off. “Get a fucking cab and go home. I’ll get one of the guys to pick your fucking truck up in the morning.”

“PATERNITY TEST!” he yells. “I WANT THAT FUCKING TEST!”

I stare him out. Wonder for the thousandth fucking time what happened to the brother I grew up with.

I feel as fucking poisoned as he is. Just being around him makes me feel fucking cursed.

He struggles to light a cigarette. I struggle to bear fucking watching him. “I want to see the boy.”

I shake my head at his fucking audacity. “I want an island in the Caribbean, Jake. Not gonna fucking happen.”

“That boy is mine and you know it. You’ve always known it.”

I tip my head. “So Cameron is yours, and Mariana was yours. What about the business? Is that yours too? How about my fucking living room carpet? My fucking cutlery? All fucking yours or what, Jake? Because from what I’m fucking seeing, the only things you’ve ever really been interested in are mine.”

“Bullshit.”

“You want my fucking jacket? My truck?” I take a step forward. “How about my fucking scars too, Jake? Fancy having those? You’d be fucking welcome to them.”

“You got off lightly.”

“Sure I fucking did,” I sneer. “It’s a walk in the fucking park. My life’s a bed of fucking roses.”

He takes a drag. “You may have scars outside.” He taps his head. “But I’ve got scars inside.”

“We’ve all got scars in here, Jake.” I tap my own head. “Cameron still wets the fucking bed half of the fucking week. Serena’s brain’s fucking addled with all this shit.”

He gestures back to Abigail’s building. “Does she know?”

“About what?”

“About the fucking fire, Leo. Does she know what you did to Mariana?” I don’t even grace him with an answer. He grins a sour fucking grin at me. “Oh, she doesn’t. Fucking surprise.”

“Mariana was off the rails.”

“Because of you.”

I shake my head. “Because of her, Jake. She was off the rails long before I came along. Long before we ever had Cam. And you fucking know it.”

“You don’t deserve another shot,” he snarls. “You don’t deserve anything.”

“So you keep fucking telling me. Why don’t you look at yourself instead, Jake? You might fucking learn something.”

“Give me that paternity test, Leo, or I swear you’ll rue the fucking day you turned me down.”

I shoulder him on my way past. “Hold your fucking breath until I call.”

“Next week,” he snarls as he tosses his cigarette away. “You’ve got until next fucking week, Leo, and then I’m coming for what’s mine.”

My voice is low and deadly. I mean every word I say. “If you come anywhere near my son, or my house, or the business, or Abigail, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He fishes his keys from his pocket. I should call the police and have him arrested for his own fucking good, but he’d just do it again tomorrow.

“Abigail,” he says, and I curse my mouth. He hauls himself into his truck and turns the ignition. I find myself hoping he drives into a fucking quarry on his way home. “Next week,” he repeats. “Or you’ll fucking regret it.”

“Sleep it off,” I tell him. “Have a fucking shower. Get your sad life sorted, Jake.”

I stand in the road to watch him away. His truck swerves a little before he speeds out of view.

I call up his tracker on my mobile and assign it to favourites. Even having him in that list is fucking sickening. I wait until he’s long back on the Worcester road before I head back to my own truck.

And I resolve to call my fucking lawyer first thing in the morning.