Page 52 of Conviction
He turns toward me with a frown on his face.
“I wrote you a letter. Asking,beggingyou, to just explain why?Whyyou chose to drive about, selling drugs with your brother and not come to the hospital. I wanted to know why you didn’t want to be with me when I’d just lost our baby? I wanted to know what had happened to change so much about the boy who left me at the bottom of my parents drive. The boy I loved and was so sure loved me. I wanted an explanation as to what could’ve happened to change all of that in just a few hours.”
He reaches behind him and puts his cigarette out in an ashtray, then turns his attention back to me.
“I wanted you to know,” I swallow hard and try to continue without crying. It doesn’t work. “I wanted you to know that I forgave you, Con. That no matter what, I knew we were strong enough to work it out. I knew we loved each other enough to get through whatever shit had happened that night. I wanted you to know thatnomatterwhat, I would always love you.” I don’t even attempt to fight the tears now, I just let them flow.
“So why didn’t you send it to me?” He asks. I close my eyes, letting the reality slice through me like a knife. He really didn’t get the letter.
“I did,” I whisper, “I gave it to Josh and he promised he would get it to you.”
I watch him blink rapidly as he tries to make sense of what I’ve just told him. He shakes his head, tilts it to the side, licks his lips and closes his eyes for just a few seconds. This is Conner processing. Trying to make sense of what I’ve just told him. I know this because, despite the years, I still know Conner.
“But why? I don’t understand. He’s a mate. Josh wouldn’t do that.”
I shrug and shake my head.
“I don’t know Con, but I swear to you, I asked Soph to call you from the hospital, and I gave Josh a letter to take to the remand centre to give to you.”
He rakes his hand through his hair. “I don’t get it, Meebs. They’re our mates. They wouldn’t. Why would they lie to us? Why would they want to keep us apart?”
My throat can no longer contain the sob it’s been fighting to hold back, and it bursts out as I answer him. “I don’t know… I don’t know, but I swear, I swear to you, I asked her to call, and I wrote you a letter. I loved you, Con. I loved you so much. My heart broke. I was so confused, so hurt and angry.” I’m struggling for breath now. My sobs have escalated into full-on heaving, snot bubble, ugly crying.
He turns and pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. He sways us from side to side, running his hands over my head, up and down my arms and back.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Meebs, so fucking much.”
This just makes me cry harder.
“Please don’t cry baby. Please, I hate seeing you this upset.”
He called me baby. He just called me baby, and the word is like a drug, a sedative. I suddenly feel like I can’t stand up anymore, that I need to go to sleep, right now.
“I’m getting to the bottom of this. I want some fucking answers.” He grabs my hand and pulls me, stumbling, back through the house and to the sofa. He reaches for his phone, which is sitting next to mine on the coffee table and makes a call.
I can hear someone answer, but Conner doesn’t greet them.
“I don’t care where you are or who you are with. You find your sister, and you get to my house now.”
I’m assuming it’s Josh and although I can’t hear the words, I can hear from his tone that he’s protesting.
“Don’t,” Conner roars, making me jump. “Don’t fuck with me, Gardner. Get in a cab if you’ve been drinking. Get your sister from wherever she ended up and get to my house, now.”
Ispend the next hoursitting on the opposite end of the sofa to Meebs. She tells me exactly what went on that New Year’s Eve and I explain to her what happened when she didn’t show up. For the first time in a long time, I talk about the accident and how it all unfolded. I tell her about the court refusing me bail because of a stupid conviction for shoplifting when I was a kid and a few other minor run-ins I’d had with the police. I tell her about busking in London, my chance meeting with Jet and joining the band.
“That was one of the worse few hours of my life,” she says very quietly. Her light blue eyes are wide, and as the sun is now coming up, I can see them shining with unshed tears. She looks so young, small and fragile, all curled up in the corner of my sofa.
“What was?” I ask. Not sure what she’s talking about.
“When the news first started to come out about Jet’s death. The first reports were unclear who it. . . if it was. . . They didn’t know which. . .” Her hand goes to her mouth, and she touches her lips with the tips of her fingers, and I’m instantly hard. She blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek. Despite her tears, I’m still hard.
“I thought at first you were dead. I thought, I thought. . .”
I can’t leave her to cry like this anymore. I move to where she’s sitting and pull her into my lap. I brush the hair from her face, and I kiss away the tears. For a few delicious moments, she lets me, but then she stops and pulls back.
“Con,” I can feel her breath on my mouth as she whispers my name. I breathe in the citrusy scent of her skin and the minty smell of her hair. My dick twitches and my balls pull tight. I lean in to start kissing along her jaw…
“Con, I’m married.”
