Somehow, I fell asleep. I was woken sometime later by a hard punch to my thigh.
I jumped awake to find Billy conscious and glaring at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Blinking, I uncurled myself from the chair and cracked my neck. “You’re awake then?”
Silence. Billy’s malevolence was brutal. Always had been.
I sat up properly and leaned over him, taking in the signs of stress and pain anyone who didn’t know him might miss—tiny, rapid breaths, tight eyes. He’d broken his wrist once and not told anyone for three days. I moved to brush his messy hair off his forehead.
He caught my hand with his good arm. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t fucking want you to.”
Defeat swept over me. Somehow, in the past few months, the sporadic texts we’d exchanged had led me to believe our relationship had healed a little, but as he shoved my hand away like it burned him, I was struck by the echoes of the last time I’d seen him. He’d been whole and upright then, swaggering drunkenly at the end of Fran’s drive two days after I’d made it home for good.
I’d tried to shake his hand.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Billy—”
“Don’t,” he growled. “Just fuck off. I don’t want you here.”
* * *
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ma. He doesn’t want me here. What am I supposed to do? Cause a fucking scene in the hospital?”
Fran sighed. “Can you at least get along until I get there? I’m flying into Birmingham first thing in the morning.”
Get along. It had been the mantra of my childhood, as far as me and Billy were concerned. Thing was, we did get along...until we didn’t, and then nothing and no one could make it right until one of us backed down. Usually me, because I was the oldest and copped the blame for just about everything. If my parents had been older, wiser, and not winging it, perhaps they’d have fixed us instead.
I said goodbye to Fran and went back inside, retreating to the lobby the nurses on Billy’s ward had banished me to when he’d told the whole world he didn’t want me anywhere near him.
I’d gone the third time they’d asked and was now faced with the prospect of getting a hotel for the night or admitting defeat and leaving Billy to Fran.
The selfish part of me, wounded by Billy’s rejection—and so fucking angry that everything about him had to be so damn difficult—wanted to go home. To rag Fran’s Ford Fiesta back down the motorway and block out another part of my fucked up life. But I couldn’t leave Billy on his own. Not again.
I threw myself into a chair and poked around on my phone, scouting for nearby hotels. As luck would have it, there was a Premier Inn across the road. I booked a room and drifted back to the ward to try and tell Billy where I was going.
The nurse at the desk frowned. “I’ll ask him, but this is the last time. If he doesn’t want to see you, you’re going to have to leave.”
I waited without much hope and was as surprised as the nurse seemed to be when she granted me entry.
“The painkillers might’ve kicked in,” she said. “Either way, visiting time is up in ten minutes.”
I doubted whatever conversation Billy had acquiesced to would take that long, but followed her direction to the corner bed anyway and ducked around the curtain. Billy was sitting up, his shattered shoulder caged in a metal brace, rods protruding from his flesh and bone.
Fuck. I had to look away, even though his derision was harder to face. “I’m getting a hotel for the night.”
“Why?”
“Because Fran won’t be here until tomorrow.”
“So?”
My fists clenched at my sides. Billy didn’t break my gaze, but I knew he saw my frustration. Revelled in it, like he always had, because he inexplicably hated letting people understand him. “So... I’m not going to leave you here on your own.”
Billy laughed, though it was cut off by a wince. “That’s never bothered you before.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Have you?”
“You tell me, bro. You’re the expert on my personality.”
“You don’t have one.”
Ouch. But compared to Billy, I didn’t. Before he’d morphed into ASBO dude, he’d been a goddamn riot. Charismatic. Funny. And just about charming enough to forgive when his fiery temper got the better of him. I’d been the opposite, the moody older brother who’d been happier playing football than talking to people. I’d never quite understood why a girl like Mia had gravitated to me. If she’d looked a year behind instead of ahead, her and Billy could’ve been dynamite together.
“Did you seriously come in here to stare at me?”
“What?”
Billy shook his head. “You’re a freak, man.”
“I’m not the dickhead who fell off a roof.”
“Nah, you’ve got Dad’s ladders and Uncle Jon’s business to keep you safe.”
“You could’ve had all that if you hadn’t fucked your life down the drain instead. Jon wanted to retire years ago.”
Billy made a sound low in his throat. “How the hell would you know? I don’t remember him writing you any letters.”
“He told me when I got back. Said he’d been hanging on, hoping you or me would get our act together so he wouldn’t have to sell.”
“And it was you that saved the day. Shocker.”
“You think I want to spend the rest of my days stapling felt to wood beams?”
“How would I know what you want, bro? You’re a fucking stranger to me.”
My patience finally snapped. “Whose fault is that? You called me a cunt the day I came back, and I haven’t seen you since. Short of putting a tracker on your phone, what was I supposed to do?”
Billy said nothing. Just took a shallow, shuddery breath that made me feel like a selfish arsehole.
Defeated, and my anger fading as fast as it had appeared, I dropped into yet another horrible plastic chair. “Look, we haven’t got long. If there’s something you want to say to me, say it now before they kick me out.”
“What’s the point?” Billy said dully. “Having a row about you fucking off to please yourself on some mutant-sized ship isn’t going to make anything better.”