“Hello to you too, sister,” I slur, swiping the joint out of Conor’s fingers before he can lift it to his lips.
“I’m not talking to you,” she hisses, pinning me with red-rimmed eyes as she crawls into Jamie’s lap. Ash curls into a ball against her boyfriend, sniffling into his neck.
She has the saddest expression on her face, and pain presses down on my chest as the realization dawns. “She’s gone.”
“No thanks to you.” Ash swipes at the dampness on her cheeks.
“It’s nothing to do with me.” I blow smoke circles into the air. “This was always the way it was meant to be.”
She opens her mouth, and Jamie whispers something into her ear. A hushed conversation ensues, and they both glance at me as they debate something. Jamie kisses her, and a pang of longing for my girl hits me square in the face.
I force beer down my dry throat, needing to numb myself to all thoughts and emotions. Ash stares at me as she cuddles with her boyfriend, letting him comfort her, but her angry expression has been exchanged for something worse—pity. I pretend I don’t notice, sitting there stewing in a mess of my own making, drinking and smoking to drown out my pain.
The rest of the night is a blur, and I don’t budge from my position on the sofa, observing the party raging around me like an objective bystander. I’m vaguely conscious of Jamie and my brother carrying me up to my room at some point, and everything is a blank after that.
Muffled voices tickle my eardrums, attempting to lure me from sleep, but I ignore them. Drums are pounding a new beat in my skull, and my tongue feels like it’s superglued to the roof of my mouth. Someone prods me in the leg, but I play comatose, knowing they’ll go away if I continue playing dead.
“Aarghhh!” I bolt upright as ice-cold water drenches my upper torso, waking up every single cell and nerve ending in my body. “What the fuck?” I shout, shaking droplets of water all over my duvet as I push wet hair back off my face.
“Get up!” Ash says. “We need to talk, and I’m done waiting.”
“Fuck off, Ash.” I glare at her through blurry vision.
“You can’t speak to Ash like that,” Jamie says. “She’s only trying to help.”
I rub at my eyes, and my vision focuses. Jamie and Ash are standing in my bedroom, leaning against the wall, eyeballing me with an intensity that scares me. “I don’t need any help,” I mumble, pulling myself up against the headboard.
“Said the blind man as he was standing on the edge of the cliff,” Ash deadpans, pushing off the wall and perching on the dry side of my bed. “I love you, Dillon, but you’re a stupid fucker at the best of times.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she clamps her hand over my lips. “Nope. You’re going to sit there and shut up. I’ve got shit to say, and I’m saying it. Besides, your breath reeks, and I’m about to pass out from the fumes.” She passes me a glass of water and two paracetamol. “Take those.” She twists around, looking at Jamie. “Babe, can you make coffee? Lots and lots of strong black coffee. We need to sober him up fast.”
Jamie nods, walking out of my room. His feet thud on the stairs as he heads down to the kitchen.
I knock back the painkillers because my head is pounding and pain rattles around my skull, reminding me I completely overdid it last night. “Spit it out,” I tell my sister, needing to get this over and done with.
“I won’t pretend to know the exact inner workings of your mind, nor am I asking you to tell me, but you’re my brother, and I know you well enough to know part of what is going through that thick skull of yours.” She grabs a towel from behind her, gently mopping the wetness on my face. “You love her. I know you do. Like I know it terrifies you to trust your heart to someone. I understand she hurt you, but she’s hurting too. I should’ve knocked your heads together weeks ago and forced you to have a conversation about the future. You’ve both been skating around it instead of just talking.”
“We did talk. I told her how I felt. I asked her to stay, and she said no.”
“You sprung it on her at the last minute, Dil! You didn’t even give her time to consider it before you stormed off all butthurt.”
“She rejected me, Ash.” I rub at the tightness spreading across my chest. “She was never going to choose me over him. She’s been in love with him most of her life. A few months with me isn’t going to change that fact.”
“Dillon. Jesus.” She crawls up beside me, wrapping her arms around my wet chest. “She broke up with him because he betrayed her. He let her down, and she might never be able to forget that. She came here to heal. She didn’t plan to meet anyone let alone fall in love. But she did. She fell in love with you.” She taps my chest, directly where my heart beats sluggishly. “You caught her off guard when you asked her,” she continues. “She’s confused, and her past is compounding the situation, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you like crazy because I know she does.” Ash grabs my face between her small, soft palms. “She told you she loves you in front of everyone last night. Didn’t that mean anything?”
Of course, it did. That took huge guts, something Viv has in spades. I know I should have chased after her last night, but I was already drunk and hurting too much to think logically. All I wanted to do was hurt her, so she’d know what it feels like.
“It did, but it’s too late now,” I say, spotting the time on my mobile. It’s already seven in the morning and her flight left at four. “She’s already in the air. And I’m not sure her saying that changes anything.”
“You won’t know unless you fight for her.” Ash scrambles off the bed as Jamie reappears, carrying a steaming mug of coffee. “Stay here. I’ve got something to show you.” She disappears as my best friend hands me a coffee.
“What are you going to do?” he asks, lighting up a cigarette.
I shrug. “What can I do? She’s gone now.”
Ash returns, carrying a brand-spanking-new guitar case into the room.
“What’s that?” Jamie inquires, walking around the bed.
“It’s for Dil. From Viv.”
I set my mug down on the bedside locker, taking the case from my sister’s hands.
“Holy fuck.” Jamie kneels on the floor as I remove the expensive Fender from the case. “Is that what I think it is?”
My fingers run along the curved edges of the guitar with reverence. “It’s a sixtieth anniversary American vintage 1954 Stratocaster.”
“That’s good, right?” Ash asks.
I can barely nod over the lump in my throat. “Just under two thousand of these were manufactured back in 2014.”
“They’re collector’s items,” Jamie says, his eyes still out on stalks.
“I thought it was new.” Ash shrugs, not understanding the significance of this gift.
“It basically is,” I admit, knowing from looking at it that whoever she bought this off hasn’t used the guitar.
“She engraved your initials,” Jamie says, rubbing his thumb along the DOD etched into the glossy wood.
“Look at the strap,” Ash prompts, and I hold it out, examining the custom-made Toxic Gods strap. My heart, swollen with so many emotions, slams against my rib cage. I can’t believe Viv did this for me. We spoke about it one time. She knows my goal was to buy one of these at auction someday.