Page 36 of Knot Just A Fan

And then there were eight.

I look at my three brothers, the first three born, all smiling except for Kyren, whose mouth is open and brow cocked as if he’s mid-joke. Then my four sisters, who all came between the boys and me. All four blondes, all sweet smiles, all mischievous grins. That’s an O’Sullivan trait.

I miss who we were, before the fights replaced the grieving. Before the house we all lived in and loved went up for sale, at the overwhelming majority vote that we sell it and move on with our lives. I was the youngest. I had the fewest memories there. But for me, it was the only thing connecting me to Mum and Dad.

Too late I realized that my siblings could also do that, more than any house could. And now we don’t talk.

I pull out the wad of bubble wrap I always use, fold it around the frame, and bury it in the middle of my case. I place some paperbacks around it and close the whole thing up.

My phone, my laptop, my gear, and my Zippo are literally the only other things I need to bring. The latter’s in my pocket, waiting for a beach to start a bonfire on. One where I won’t get kicked off for no open flames.

No memories allowed.

Can I still make new ones?

Can Briella ever forgive me for doing what I thought was right until I saw, through her eyes, just how much we do against our own wills when we’re determined to let grief win?

I don’t know how to undo the things I’ve done, both now and then. Or if I have it in me to even try.

CHAPTER 18

Briella

“Mate,I know it’s been a shitty week,” comes Cami’s voice as she’s pulling her key out of the front door. She’s just arrived back at the flat after running to Tesco for some bits and bobs.

I pull my feet off the coffee table because I know that winds her up, but I leave on the horrendous daytime TV that I never watch, but somehow have been for the past three hours.

I sit up. “Yes, it has. Is there a second part to that sentence?”

We’d spent all day yesterday after I got back from the meeting trying to figure out a way to solve my suppressants problem. Cami’s been sharing hers with me but there’s no real way to know if they’re working until they don’t. Usually a heat comes quarterly, once you’re on a regular schedule, but since mine have seemingly stopped working, there’s no telling how my system might be off-kilter now.

“There is indeed!” Cami graces the room holding a bottle of gin in one hand and a bottle of tonic in the other. I haven’t had a drink since New Year’s Eve Eve. I didn’t even get around to Champers at midnight because of the whole fiasco. We’d run out of alcohol and Cami, bless her, thinks that that’s going to cheer me up.

I look up at the muted TV where a talk show host is interviewing Alphas who have met and refused their scent matches, then switch it off.

On second thought, maybe itwillcheer me up.

Cami roots around in her reusable bags and also pulls out an enormous tray of meats and cheeses, a bag of crisps, and a container of sour cream dip.

“Well, that’s my night sorted now. What’re you having?” I say.

Cami snorts and begins slamming cupboard doors, putting things in the fridge, then pours herself a coffee from the pot I left warming on the counter. After I switch on a video game console and start flicking through available games, my cushion on our Swedish sofa lifts into the air as Cami throws her—not considerable—weight on the one beside me.

“Whew! What a day. I met with two families who are setting dates for portrait sessions, then stood in the queue at Tesco for thirty minutes.”

“You chose the wrong time,” I say. Grocery shopping is my domain since Cami tends to work days and I do more evenings. “But thank you for going,” I add. “You’ve been a star.”

“No, you,” she says, then sips her coffee and throws her head back. “Ahh, my gut’s gonna kick my ass, but this tastes good.”

The door buzzes and we look at each other. My heart pumps out Grayson’s name, but when Cami goes to check the peephole, I get a, “Huh,” sound and she opens it to Ash standing there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Moving in?” quips Cami, not letting go of the door.

“I wanted to speak with Briella again before we leave. Tomorrow morning.”

“Come in,” I say, straightening up on the sofa. Then I stand and move to the open kitchen area. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Sparkling shitshow?”

“Can I speak plainly?” Ash shoots a blatant look at Cami, who raises her hands in the air, uses one to slam the door shut behind Ash, then crosses them over her chest.

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