Page 37 of Unworthy
“Bloody hell, I really do feel out of the loop now. I’m sorry Mia.”
“I know it wasn’t me you wanted to avoid, and I understand why you’re doing it. Max and Heath have both behaved like complete tossers.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Remember though, I’m not just your brother’s missus. We were friends first.”
That was true. I was so hurt that I pushed away Mia as well without thinking. I vowed to do better, starting right now.
*****
Mia wasn’t kidding – Heath was not himself. There were dark circles under his eyes, he clearly hadn’t shaved for a good few days, and his reactions were completely off. Also, there was the fact that I’d been at the practice for at least twenty minutes and he’d yet to make proper eye contact. Max had, of course, been right up in my grill as soon as I arrived, asking why I wasn’t responding to his texts, wanting to know when I could come over, when I was coming back to the office. He even managed a gruff “I’m sorry for being a dick” – a very out-of-character move, and although I attributed it in part to Mia, I could also see the genuine regret in his eyes. So, I’d agreed to come over that week so that he could make me his pasta. I didnotagree to go back to the office.
But with Heath it was different, it was like he didn’t even see me there. To be honest, he didn’t seem like he was fully there himself. He was so distracted that he fumbled easy passes, made no attempt to sidestep anyone when he had the ball. It was weird – the man was a rugby machine. He left halfway through the game, but I felt like it would be too obvious to follow him.
Max and Mia convinced me to pop into the pub after practice. They were both still looking at me like I was an unexploded bomb, so I felt I had to humour them. I planned to go for one and then track down Heath. The hollow expression on his face was so weird that it had freaked me out. But it turned out that Heath was already at the pub when we arrived, slumped over the bar on a stool and nursing a pint. He looked up at me as I approached and blinked his red-rimmed eyes as if he wasn’t sure whether I was real. My stomach hollowed out.
“Heath?” I said, as I drew up next to him. He looked so lost in that moment that I did the only thing I could do – I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a squeeze. At first, he did nothing. His arms remained limp by his side. But then he seemed to jerk to life, and they came up and around me in a vice-like grip as he shoved his face into my neck.
“Yaz,” he breathed. “He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?” I tried to pull back a little so I could look at his face, but he kept me pinned against him.
“That bastard’s gone, but I’ll never be free of him.”
“Heath.” Verity’s sharp voice broke into our huddle and Heath’s arms loosened again. He drew back, and we both looked at her. Her eyes weren’t red rimmed, she wasn’t drunk, her outfit was immaculate as always – but the corner of her left eye was twitching and her mouth was held in a tight line. “There you are. Let’s get out of here.”
Heath turned back to me. I was still in the circle of his arms. He rested his forehead against mine and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I racked my brain to think of another time I’d seen Heath drunk like this and couldn’t recall any. He was always in control. Always. Almost unnaturally so – just like his sister.
“She’sfree of him,” he said with his eyes closed and his forehead still resting on mine. His voice was slightly slurred. “Always been stronger than me, though. He respected that.”
“Who are you talking about, love?” I asked in a soft voice, my lips only an inch from his. His eyes flickered open, and he drew back slightly to stare at me.
“Thank you.” His words were heavy and laden with feeling. I frowned in confusion.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Verity put in briskly. “Come on Heathcliff. Time to get you home.”
He stiffened in my arms then, before pulling away fully and setting me back from him. His eyes had gone from warm to cold, his expression completely blank. “I’m not going home.Homecan fuck off.”
Verity moved between me and Heath and put her hands on his shoulders, giving him a small shake. “I’m not talking aboutthathome. That was two decades ago, you numpty. I’m talking aboutyourhome here in Poole. Your nice house. Your niceclean, warmhouse.”
His posture relaxed under her hands. He was back to looking lost again.
“Right,” he said. “Of course.”
She guided him up to standing and he wobbled for a moment before she ducked under his arm to stabilise him.
“Verity, what is going on?” I asked as I followed them through the pub.
“Verity? Heath? What are you guys doing?” Max came up on their other side and when Heath tripped over a low stool and lurched dangerously forward, Max stepped in front and stopped him hitting the deck.
“If you’d all mind your own business and get out of our way, I’m going to take my brother home.”
Max’s frowned at Verity as he continued to support Heath’s weight.
“V, you’re not going to be able to get this great lump home without help. He’d be face down on Fergus’ disgusting carpet if it wasn’t for me.”
Heath slurred out some sort of indistinguishable insult to Max then slapped one of his hands down in the centre of Max’s chest.
“Yer my besssst friend, Maxy baby. You know that, you northern bastard?”
