Page 103 of Muddy Messy Love

Heels clack up the steps, and I cringe. God, I wish I had a fucking door.

“Avery Lee?”

With a deep breath, I turn to face her, wishing I could rally a fake smile—the smile—but I can’t.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” Mum says as she reaches the landing. When she looks up, she arches an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise already?”

I grit my teeth. I’m not telling her shit.

“Listen, I was wondering if you could be home tomorrow? I’m expecting an important delivery.”

Irritation crawls up my back. “I have to work. You know that.”

Her cunning smile ripens. “Well, you know”—she shrugs, twirling her hand—“as the boss’s little pet, I figured one tiny day off wouldn’t hurt.”

My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

“I’m just asking, Avery Lee. Gosh, you don’t need to be so rude.”

“I can’t skip work to wait for a parcel. Why can’t you be here?”

She fluffs her buttery blonde locks. “I have a hair appointment with Phillipe. I really don’t want to cancel.”

I stare at her, gobsmacked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps. “Normal daughters help their mothers, do you know that? Yet you refuse to do anything for me.”

With a breath of composure, I shake my head. “I tolerate you. That’s exhausting enough.”

The fall of her face spears guilt through my stomach. With laser eyes, she scans me from head to toe, causing that thick, tar-like feeling of shame and disgust to rise and bubble. “You’re so cruel, Avery Lee. It’s amazing you have anyone at all.” With glossy eyes and a manicured hand clutching her heart, Mum turns away and dashes down the stairs, her heels clacking double time, long, floaty dress wafting dramatically.

She’ll phone someone now to tell them about my latest atrocity. How horrible I am. Her friends hate me, as did every boyfriend that ever came along. Always pitted against me from the get-go.

The air turns syrupy, and my throat narrows. The mezzanine walls seem to be closing in on me. Desperate for escape, I scan the room. I need to go—get out of here—but it’s dark and cold, and I have nowhere to run. Soft moonlight glows through the window, beckoning me outside. I shove on my Chucks—this time doing up the laces—then mount the sill and ease down onto the roof. The frosty air fogs my breath, and Cole’s warning flits through my head as I shuffle down low enough to lie, but screw him. I need this small act of defiance right now. It’s the only control I have.

The stars twinkle away, singing their cosmic song, and a pang of longing hits my stomach. I want to be like them—higher than all this earthbound sludge. I want to shine amid chaos and be unaffected by the storms. But that’s not what life is. Life is a string of hurricanes, and any peace is merely the eye—a cruel glimpse of sweetness so you can grasp the gravity of sour.

A star shoots across the sky, rubbing its freedom in my face, but I make a wish. The same wish I’ve made every night since our first kiss.

Please keep Cole safe. Please don’t take him away too.

Twenty

Hannah beams when Ienter Mini-Bees the following morning, but I feign interest in my phone and make a beeline for the staffroom. My hands tremble, my thoughts spin, and the fatigue, courtesy of a restless night, only amplifies every fear. I’m wired, tired, and millimetres from losing it. I need to know if Cole’s okay. He hasn’t replied to my texts. He hasn’t returned my calls. And he won’t answer his fucking phone.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Hannah scruff Alex’s hair as he rolls out a Play-Doh snake, then stand to follow me.

Fuck. What will I say?

I hang my satchel on the hook and stare at the spotless floor. The antiseptic lemon scent from Bernie’s morning clean still lingers. I’m a mess, and I don’t do mess discreetly. There’s no dignity in panic. Maybe I should’ve stayed home and waited for Mum’s stupid delivery after all.

Hannah’s flower-print Keds soon enter my peripheral vision, bouncing from heel to ball and back again. “So how’d it go?Did you try again? I’m sorry for hassling you all night. I was just excited, you know?” Her innocence turns my stomach. Reluctantly, I unglue my eyes from the floor and meet hers. Her smile drops away. “Oh God, what’s wrong?” Frowning, she steps in to squeeze my elbow.

I swallow and shake my head, but tears fill my eyes, then spill over, and I hate how convenient they are. Hannah won’t press me for more information on Slade if I’m upset. That brings relief and makes me want to puke at the same time. “I’m sorry. I have some stuff going on—” Worry lines set hard on Hannah’s face. Shit. Cole wouldn’t want her to know about this. I clear my throat. “—at home. There’s stuff going on at home. With my mum.” There. Not a complete lie.

Hannah’s relief is palpable, but she tries to hide it. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She opens her slender arms out towards me. “You look like you really need a hug.”

I do. I do need a hug.

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