I fired out a text to say as much, but she beat me to it.
Mia: Sorry. You just frustrate me. Still. I love you xx
I deleted my original message and tapped out a reply.
Luke: i know. i’m working on it. love u x
But my phone battery died before I hit send. Sighing, I jogged upstairs to plug it in, then came back down to figure out what I needed to do before I made the three-hour round trip to see Billy. Fighting through the traffic around the IKEA roundabout to get to the timber merchant was unfortunately at the top of my list.
I drove the van—complete with its monkey’s worth of brand new tyres—out of town to the retail park in the industrial estate. The traffic was shit, and I’d left my phone at home, so without Spotify to distract me, my thoughts returned to the strange events Mia and the police apparently thought weren’t worth further consideration. Logic told me they could be right, but my gut said otherwise. The break-in, the van, the weird packages in the post. Even without the black car that had trailed me around Rushmere a few weeks ago, it all added up to something I couldn’t shake. Maybe it wasn’t her ex, but I didn’t find that notion comforting. A pissed off ex-husband made sense. A rando doing this shit didn’t. At all.
A shiver ran through me. Fuck, I needed to talk about this—preferably with someone who took me seriously. Frustration and disquiet was building in my veins and I knew what would happen if I didn’t find an outlet for it. Nothing. Old habits would die hard and I’d shut down, derailing everything Mia and I had been through to get to this point. But who could I talk to? Who could I confess to how fucking terrified I was that there was some lunatic out there about to amp up this bullshit? What if Mia had interrupted whoever had broken into her van? Would her face look like the battered roses I’d swept from the concrete?
Nausea rushed me. I swallowed thickly and tried to push the macabre image from my mind, but it was tough when I had nothing but the back end of a wanky Range Rover to focus on. Anxiety buzzed in my veins, my blood roaring in my ears, and I swear my teeth fucking trembled.
Thankfully, though, the traffic moved on before I could have a complete meltdown, and navigating the roundabout from hell pulled me clear. I parked outside the timber merchant and opened the back of the van to make space for the wood I needed for the week ahead. After a busy few weeks, it took a while, but keeping my hands occupied was good for my soul.
With a clear space and a lighter mind, I shut the door and turned towards the shop. The roar of an engine spun me round again. A black car was speeding across the car park. I met the gaze of the driver as it careered towards me, and his name was on my lips as metal crunched bone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mia
Four o’clock came and went, and with it Luke’s window for being caught in traffic.
Dick. I tossed my phone on the kitchen counter, sending it clattering towards Gus.
He caught it, thick eyebrow raised. “I don’t know what you’re getting shitty about. You’re the one who bitched him out and hung up.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Did you?”
“Yes,” I growled, before remembering Gus was neither psychic or had access to my messages. “I sent him a text.”
Gus snorted. “That’s a copout. You don’t get to be a moody cow then get out of it with a lazy message.”
“What else do you suggest I do? It’s not like you’re going to let me out of the house, is it?”
“I never said not to go out, just that you should maybe keep a low profile for a couple of weeks. See what happens before you figure out what to do next. I haven’t locked you in, have I?”
More rage bubbled inside me, and I fought to keep it there. My childish temper had weakened as adulthood had progressed, but there was a huge part of me that wanted to reach across the counter and dunk my brother’s head in the vat of tomato soup he was eating. Besides, he might not have locked me in, but he’d made his feelings and his fears perfectly clear, and the part of me that didn’t want to deck him agreed with him. Rebecca’s theory made perfect sense, but it just felt...off.
I reclaimed my phone.
Mia: Are we still going to see Billy?
The message delivered, but Luke hadn’t been online since I’d last spoken to him, and the two ticks next to my innocuous words remained resolutely grey.
I wondered if he had his phone set up to show previews of messages on his lock screen. If he was reading them without having to open the app and show his face. I’d never thought to look at his phone.
Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something nicer.
Mia: Look, I said I was sorry, and I really want to be there for you tonight. Please don’t go without me xx
“Go where?” Gus peered over my shoulder.
“To see Billy,” I said absently. “He had surgery at the weekend.”
“He okay?”
I glanced at him. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because he’s Luke’s brother and I’m not a cold-hearted wanker.”
Fair enough. “He’s okay, as far as Luke knows, but they need to reconnect.”
Gus nodded. “Makes sense. They’re quite similar in that respect. That’s why it’s so hard for them to move forward.”
“I didn’t know you were the expert on the Daley brothers.”
“I’m not, but we lost Mum just like they lost their dad. You ran away and I stayed here, but we never shut each other out the way they did. Yeah, shit went down we didn’t tell each other, but we were still... I don’t know. We were still us, I guess. Fuck, I ramble when I’m hungry.”
I couldn’t see how he could possibly be hungry after three tins of Heinz and most of a loaf of bread, but the rest of what he had to say sank in. Festered. Luke and Billy needed each other, and the idea that me being a grumpy bitch had waylaid Luke somehow galled me.
Back in my room, I sent another text.
Mia: Me again. And I’m sorry again. Go without me if you’re pissed off with me, but PLEASE GO. And give Billy my love xx
I didn’t know what else to say. Luke’s voicemail kicked in when I called him, so I took the hint and left it alone. But I couldn’t sit still. My bones felt like they were crawling out of my skin, and I paced my room like a lioness in a cage. Silence was Luke’s armour when he was upset, but the more I replayed our last conversation in my head, the less I could see him sulking over something so trivial. Back in the day, every other phone call had ended in me hanging up on him. I wasn’t excusing my immaturity—hell no, I was a brat when I got fired up—but Luke was a better person than me. Always had been.