I sit and stare out at my garden. It’s the only part of my house that Jenny didn’t touch and the only place that gives me any comfort. It’s like I’m a stranger looking in on my own life the rest of the time.

Mum and Dad were pleased to hear from me. Jenny had told them we’d gone on an unexpected holiday. They didn’t think to worry as it had only been a few weeks. Of course, I played along. I couldn’t bring myself to admit what had happened. I didn’t go to the police. There was no one else to tell.

When I charged my phone, I was saddened to see so few messages. A handful of texts, mainly about choir rehearsal, but that’s all. Quinn could have kept me for another month and I don’t think anyone would have noticed. I hadn’t realised my life had grown so insular. I’ve worked so hard on my business that friendships have slipped through my fingers. And now, I’m left wondering if Quinn was the wake-up call I needed.

That thought sours my already grey mood. I can’t shake the feeling that I miss him. A nagging at the back of my mind, like I’ve forgotten about something but can’t remember what. It’s the most ridiculous feeling in the world and I wish I could forge forward without this strange doubt lingering.

I’ve emptied the rest of my savings replacing my camera and computer for the studio. It will take some time to build up what I can offer clients again, but I’ve worked from nothing before. The camera was the vital purchase. I can't be a photographer without one. Credit cards are there for emergencies and this counted as one.

My wardrobe was only missing the dresses I hoarded and never wore regularly.  Of course, Jenny didn’t take any of the everyday wear. Why would she? Everything else I can make do without. Nothing keeps my attention or can stop my mind from replaying the last few weeks.

It turns out I came back on a Friday. I’ve been gone three weeks. It seems like the longest time of my life. So much has happened and I’m still processing it. I can’t sleep. I can’t relax in my own home. I don’t feel safe, which is ironic considering where I’ve been. My mind keeps playing tricks on me. If I thought I was going insane for behaving the way I did with Quinn then I’m positive I need to see someone now. I’ve grown paranoid about the house and studio, checking and re-checking the door to make sure it’s locked when I come in, and repeating the precaution throughout the evening as well. The same goes for the studio.

And I don’t want to admit or face the real problem.

I’ve spent time in the studio, first trying to ensure all my bills are paid, but then going through my old account files for my past client list. With the new computer set up I can start to build again, using the small mailing list programme I have to get back in touch with them.

I’ve missed five bookings over the weeks. My inbox is filled with messages, and I have some refunds to process. It makes me feel incompetent. I worked so hard and now I have to start over, and no one can know the reason behind it. That’s my secret now and mine alone. Every day I have to wake up and crawl through the shame and regret that drench me before I can look to the future. But every day it’s harder, and my mind blurs the details, making me question everything I’ve locked away in the shadows of my mind.

* * *

The weather has turned. The rain lashes down as I run from the tube to the studio. A puddle forms around where I stand in the doorway for too long feeling lost. Jenny’s desk is empty now. I’ve moved it to the side and placed a beautiful vase filled with cut flowers on it. I turn on my computer and hang my coat up in the back room before switching the kettle on.

I hear the chime of the bell and pop my head out to see who’s come in.

“Mrs Banks.” My heart sinks. I left her a message on her answering phone to apologise. The deadline for her album has just passed, and I have nothing to give her. Jenny even took my hard drives. “Mrs Banks, I’m so sorry.”

“I’d just like to say how disappointed I am. I came to you and trusted you to help mark my anniversary. I don’t know what personal problems you have, but I thought you were a professional.” She storms into the studio, bristling with anger.

“I am. I just—”

“You had plenty of opportunities to inform me that you needed more time. But I heard nothing from you. The studio was closed when I came for my appointment, and now we won’t have anything for my husband.”

“I’m sorry. If there was anything I could have—”

“I’d like my photos.”

“Mrs Banks, please.” I gesture to the sofa, but she straightens her stance. “I’m afraid that… Well, it’s just, I was robbed and all my equipment and computers were stolen. I won’t be able to give you the photos back.”

The door jangles again, and I glance out the corner of my eye to see who it is. My blood runs cold as I recognise the man. He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

“Emily, I don’t want to sound harsh, but you’ve had weeks to get in touch with me about this. You sat here and promised me that I’d have a wonderful gift. Perhaps if you were married for as long as I have been, you’d better understand. I trusted you, and now I have nothing to show for it.”

“Mrs Banks, again, I can’t apologise enough.” I plead with her to understand, but how can she if all I’m telling her is a half-truth. My eyes flick between her and my unwanted visitor, who’s still lingering in the corner near Jenny’s desk.

“I’ll expect to see the money I paid you returned to my account.”

“Of course. I’ve already made arrangements. It should be cleared in the next day or so.”

She nods and turns to leave.

“Goodbye,” I call after her.

“She got her knickers in a twist.” Shifty pushes off the wall and comes further into the studio.

“What are you doing here?” I stand, facing a man I hoped I wouldn’t have to see again.

“I’ve been stopping by, seeing if Jenny’s still around.” His eyes dart around the space, living up to his name.

“Jenny?” I question, not sure I believe that.

“Yeah.”

“Shifty, she’s gone. She set me up, stole my money and anything else she could get her hands on, and has gone.”

“Right.” He nods, looking around the room and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“How did you meet her, anyway?”

“At a club. Then saw her again at a game.”

“A gambling game?”

“Yeah.” He nods.

“You allowed her to run up debt?”

“She was always good for the money.”

“Well, not this time,” I mumble.

Realising how Shifty being here isn’t a concern, I go and finish making my cup of tea.

“So you don’t know where she’s gone?”

I finish brewing my tea and go and sit at my desk. “No, Shifty. She didn’t leave a note after tossing my house and stealing whatever I had of any value. If she’s got any sense, she’ll never come back. After what she’s done… well.” I wish I could verbalise how gutted I feel. Jenny’s betrayal is harder to take than anything else. What happened to her for her to hate me enough to send me to Quinn, knowing it would never end well?

“Alright.”

I take a sip of tea and hear the bell, signalling Shifty’s departure. I let out a slight breath and resist going to the door to lock it. I’m at work. The shop needs to be open. I can’t close it just because I feel uncomfortable, certainly not after the money I’ve had to pay out to replace everything. But Shifty’s visit has brought everything to the surface. The date, my impulsive reaction to Quinn, the kidnapping, his back and forth behaviour. I swipe the stack of magazines from the coffee table, scattering them across the floor.

My cheeks are damp before I realise I’m crying again. A storm of confusion and shame cloud my mind and pull me deeper into despair. For every step I take in claiming my life back, I fall back three. I cling to the memory of my hands tied to the chair in the dark room. The fear and anguish I felt reminds me that I should be glad to be free. But when I remember, my mind doesn’t block out the pleasure that Quinn always managed to give me, or the way my heart began to beat for him.

Am I strong enough to put the pieces of my life back together when, if I’m honest with myself, I left a part of my heart with Quinn?

By 4:30 p.m. I’m ready to leave. I turn off all the lights, lock the camera and laptop away in a small safe I’ve purchased and hid in the back storeroom, and grab my coat.

I rummage through my bag to find the keys and look up, straight at a shadowy figure in the doorway. He looks familiar, and I can’t help the jolt my heart gives as my mind jumps to some romantic notion that Quinn’s come back for me.

“Quinn?” My hopeful plea is pathetic.

“No. Close, though.”

“Josh?”

“Thought I’d pay you a visit.” He steps from the doorway, closing it behind him and sending a riot of panic through my system.

“What… why? How did you know where… where I work?”

“Relax, Em. I’m not here to hurt you.” His smile looks wicked in the dark, and I wish I could turn the lights on. “I had a visit from Shifty, that’s all.”

“Shifty? Why would he come and see you?”

“Because he thought you could use a hand.” He rests his hand on the door, blocking my exit. “Now, if we’re going to have this conversation, why don’t we grab a cup of coffee?” Josh might have apologised the last time I saw him, but do I want to strike up a friendship with him? A bubble of hope that he’s come to talk to me about Quinn fills my chest. What would I do if he wasn’t here? Go home to an empty house and drive myself half crazy? We’d be in a public place. What can he do to me in a café full of people?

I nod and pull my coat tightly around my body, as if it can offer another layer of protection to my heart. Seeing Josh brings all of my memories flooding back. He opens the door and allows me to exit. I lock the studio and only manage to check it once before he steers me along the pavement.

“I told you to relax, Em. Shifty mentioned you’re struggling a bit, that’s all.”

“I’m fine.”

“The shop looks far from fine. So do you.” I try to brush off his comment, but it hurts to hear it from Josh.

We walk to the closest coffee shop, and he seats me at a table in the window. It’s surprisingly quiet, though. Not what I wanted.

He doesn’t ask me anything, just goes to the counter and then returns with two mugs of steaming coffee.

“Big brother might not be around any longer, but that shouldn’t mean you can’t benefit from the Cane family. Shifty said your business is suffering.”

“I’m fine.” My protest sounds lame, and I’m distracted by Josh’s mention of Quinn.

“You’re stubborn.”

“Maybe. But my business doesn’t involve you. Quinn said I wouldn’t have anything to do with him again.” I’m caught between wanting to be here and wishing Josh would leave all the questions.

“I’m not Quinn, although, perhaps you wish I were?”

“He kidnapped me for three weeks.” My defence is an obvious one and I know Josh will see through it.

“And he sent me here so I can be out of the way and no longer be a burden. He has his flaws.”

“Pretty big flaws.”

“But we both love him anyway.”

“I don’t love Quinn. He’s a bastard.” I hug my coffee cup with my hands, not wanting Josh to see the lie.

“I don’t think that’s how you really feel, is it?” He leans back, smiling. “I know what he’s like, Em. He screws around with whores for fun. He’s never had a… pet like you before. Someone he wants to fuck on a regular basis. You must have something he wants.”

My eyes flash around the coffee shop, praying that nobody is within earshot.

“Suddenly ashamed, are we?”

I can’t help the blush that flares over my cheeks at his words.

“Maybe it’s your innocence that Quinn liked, or those mismatched eyes of yours.” He leans in closer and I have to fight my reaction to pull away.

“What do you want, Josh? I told you I don’t need help, and I’ve listened to enough.”

“Quinn ruined your business.”

“No, he didn’t.” I shake my head furiously.

“If Quinn isn’t prepared to look out for you, I am. He shouldn’t have just dumped you back here. He might get away with it with me, but not with you.”

His sudden sympathy throws me. I watch his eyes, searching for any sign he’s playing me. It’s so hard not to see Quinn in his features. He looks just like him. A smaller, leaner version, but so similar.

“What did you do to make Quinn send you to England?” I ask, wanting to shift the focus to him, and find out why he’s been sent here.

“I lost a bet to a man our family doesn’t like very much.”

“Can’t you just pay it? I don’t think Quinn is struggling financially.”

“I bet his casino. I owe the casino that he recently acquired.”

“A casino? How can you even do that when gambling?”

“You’d be surprised what you can win or lose at the right game.”

“What’s Quinn going to do?” The question’s out before I can stop it, and I hate that I’m so desperate to hear the answer.

“I don’t know. But I’m here, so it’s not my problem to solve. He’ll find some way to settle the debt. He always does.” His voice trails off, as if he knows the hurt that comes with his comment. I was a debt, used as a settlement in place of Jenny or her money. I don’t say anything else and concentrate on my coffee. My mind races with thoughts of Quinn and his business dealings. Is there any hope that his business could be the right side of legal one day?

“You didn’t talk much when we first met back in Chicago. Was that because Quinn told you to stay quiet?” Josh breaks our silence.

“He didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t even know you’d be in the house when I walked up the stairs.” A shiver runs down my spine as I remember those first few steps outside of the room. How petrified I was that I’d find myself in a worse scenario.

“You must have done something truly terrible to make him send you away. I’m surprised he did. He needs company. He takes too much on, paranoid that the Cane name will lose power or some shit if he doesn’t handle everything himself.”

“You sound a little bitter, Josh.”

“No more than you are. Besides, I still think I’m right. You want to see him again. Or something’s changed. You wouldn’t be sitting having coffee with me if it hadn’t.”

“Maybe I think you’re all bluff and no bite? Besides, you can’t be any worse than your brother.” I regret the words immediately. Josh’s previously calm frame turns to stone, his eyes darkening as I inwardly panic. And then it’s gone, in the blink of an eye, and I have to wonder if I imagined it. His lips tilt into a funny half smile.

“Come to dinner with me.” He phrases it as a statement and not a question.

“Dinner? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” My choices were limited when he barred my exit from the studio. Voluntarily having dinner would be another alarming decision on my part, and sure evidence that I need to see a shrink. I need to look at moving on with my life and not grasping at threads that will keep me connected to Quinn.

“Because you want to know more about Quinn, and I have the answers. You can even see where we grew up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m staying at our old home. The one we had when we were truly only children. Before we went to Chicago and things started to turn for the worse.”

“I’m not sure Quinn would want me to see where he grew up.” The temptation to ask more is right on the end of my tongue, but I know I’d be stupid to do this.

“Fine. Your call. But here’s my number. I want you to call me if you have any problems, okay? That’s all.” He pushes a card across the table to me. I pick it up and stuff it into my pocket.

“I don’t understand. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It’s obvious that you mean something to Quinn. Family means something to us. He’s treated you no better than garbage. I want to make that right. It’s only dinner. I can try to explain a little about Quinn and what he’s like.”

It’s a carrot that’s hard to resist. But my flight reflex is in full working mode, despite my dubious state of mind, I know not to put myself in a vulnerable position again.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’d really like to put all of this behind me and move on.” I stand and button my coat, suddenly desperate to be away from Josh before I change my mind and agree to his offer.

“Don’t be a stranger, Em. It would be such a shame.” I don’t look back, but hear… something in his voice as I push open the door and into the cold night.

The strange encounter plays on my mind all the way home. I finger the card, turning it over and over in front of me, undecided as to what to do. I can’t simply forget everything that’s happened. As much as I might like that, it’s unrealistic to me. Finding out more about Quinn is a lure so appealing that I am considering calling Josh back. He seemed pleasant, kind even. A complete contrast to who I first met. But can I trust him?

My phone chimes and breaks my trance.

I read the text message and the accompanying contact for Quinn.