Page 69 of Indigo

“No,” I admit. “It wasn’t. But it felt like it for a long fucking time. Every time I looked at Mrs Neil, every time someone crossed the street to avoid me, every time I walked into the supermarket and the whole damn place went silent. They all blamed me. I heard the whispers.”

If I hadn’t beaten him so badly, he wouldn’t have crashed.

If I had beaten him worse, he wouldn’t have been able to drive.

I see her nod to herself from the corner of my eye as I look back up at the sky, thunder cracking as I do.

The silence between us lingers in the air until she asks, “Have you been to see him? Since he went to jail?”

I scoff. “No.”

I will never step foot in that prison. He can fucking rot in there for the rest of his life for all I care, and if he ever comes near me or my brother again, I’ll end him, without even blinking twice, like I fucking should have that night.

Leaning her head on my arm again, comforting me with her touch alone, she asks, “Don’t you think you should? For closure, or just a chance to tell him how you feel? He’d be sober now. I’m sure time in prison, with no booze and nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, he’d come to some pretty harsh realisations about himself.”

I remain silent, because I don’t know what else to say. Because I don’t agree.

I don’t think he deserves the chance to speak. I don’t give a shit if he’s sober and his actions were just a result of his addiction.

He killed a man.

Beat me, my mother, and tried to hurt my brother.

I have more hate for him in my heart than I knew a person could.

“Pax,” she whispers, trying to get my attention, but as I look down at her to respond, my breath catches in my throat.

Tear filled indigo eyes stare back up at me, taking away every bad feeling I’ve had while explaining this all to her. She soothes my soul in a way no one else can.

Instead of giving her the answer she wants, instead of continuing our conversation about a man who is dead, and another who is dead to me, I let the words I’ve been holding in for far too long pass my lips.

“I love you. You know that?”

She gulps, and her eyes frantically dart back and forth between mine. For a moment, I worry that I’ve said the exact wrong thing at the worst time, but when her lips pull into the most breathtaking smile, I let out a relieved breath.

“Yeah?” she asks, her lip quivering as she grins up at me.

“Fuck yeah, since before I even knew what the words meant.”

I blink, and her lips are on mine. The feel of her warmth seeps into me and I wrap one arm around her waist as she gets to her knees, using the other to shift backwards, giving us more space. Without breaking contact, she climbs onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. We stare into each other’s eyes, the emotion swelling between us as we hold each other, chest to chest, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and as I press my lips lightly to hers, not wanting this kiss to be rushed, a clap of thunder rumbles above us and the skies open up.

She gasps as the first drops of rain hit us, and looks up at the sky as if to ask, ‘Why?’ But then her shock turns into humour, and she laughs.

I grab her face and pull her mouth to mine, not giving a shit about easing into it as the rain drenches us both, and we welcome it.

Moving so that not only her arms are wrapped around my body, but her legs too, I use one hand to hold her face in place and the other to cup her ass, making sure every inch of her is pressed against me.

The rain feels therapeutic, healing. It cleanses my wounds and scars, one by one, and the memory of her last night here, the pain from our conversation in this exact spot, everything that happened after as a result, is washed away, leaving only this moment.

Just us.

-23-

INDIGO

“THE KIDS BEHAVING FOR YOU TODAY?” I ask mum, my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as I scroll through the unopened emails in my inbox.

“Oh, yes,” she replies, the sound of her chewing her sandwich in my ear making me cringe. “They’re angels, as always.”

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